The BLTS Archive- Data Goes Ballistic  (aka That Dang Chip!)
by J. Juls (jjuls@tbc.net)

---

This story follows Data on a jaunt through rape, murder, and
necrophilia after he develops a little flutter in his morality
circuits.  You have been warned!

All characters, ships, positronic relays, power couplings owned by
Paramount/Viacom megaplex.  Sorry Paramount!

Premise:  Spot wasn't as healthy as she looked at the end of
Generations.  She ended up having internal injuries and dying not
too much later.  Also, stuff in these brackets [] means Data is
thinking it.

Lore fans--if you don't like the very end of the story, just pretend
some species other than the Pakleds rescued Lore.  It could happen!

 -- thanx to Laur for killing Maddox!

---

Geordi closed the access panel in Data's head.  "See, Data, I told
you everything is just fine.  I know you're upset about Spot, but
you'll get over it in time.  You just have to get used to your
emotions, that's all."  He patted Data on the shoulder.  "Aren't you
looking forward to tomorrow?"

"I do not know, Geordi.  I have not been able to concentrate on
anything in the past 63.5 days.  Sometimes I wish I had not asked
you to install the emotion chip."  Data was not telling Geordi the
whole truth, though.  In between the wild mood swings, the suicidal
thoughts, and his "short fuse", there was *one* thing he had been
able to concentrate on:  the new emotion of lust.  However, the
program did not seem to be working properly, and Data felt an
inexplicable reluctance to discuss this function with anyone, even
his best friend.  Overcoming his shyness, Data turned to Geordi and
opened his mouth to speak, then stopped as he saw Geordi staring at
a PADD.

"I just have to keep looking at it to believe it!  The newest, most
advanced ship in the fleet!  They're naming it the Enterprise and
giving it to us!  And *I* get to oversee final construction details!
HA HA!"  Geordi looked more gleeful than Data had ever seen him;
Data did not want to "spoil his good mood" now.

Data continued to look at Geordi, who was oblivious to all but the
PADD.  Luckily Data had synthesized uniform trousers a couple sizes
too big; nobody saw the expansion in them now; but they didn't help
his discomfort any.  Data inserted his hand into the nearest EPS
power tap, slightly burning his outer covering.  Damage routines
pounded their messages into his positronic brain, temporarily
overriding sexual functions.  Data sighed as the ache in his groin
eased slightly.  Geordi looked around.  "Wonder what's causing that
power drain?"  The chief engineer of Starbase 173 stalked past to
check a panel.  "You know, Data," Geordi whispered, "I don't think
they do enough maintenance around here.  They seem to have these
power drains pretty often.  Maybe we should give them a hand."

As Geordi led them out of the diagnostic lab, Data quickly clasped
his hands together to hide the damage.  The Starbase engineer glared
suspiciously at him anyway.  Of course, Data knew what had been
causing the power drains.  "Actually, Geordi, I have a few things to
finish before we transfer to the Enterprise tomorrow.  I shall meet
you there."

"Okay, see ya tomorrow, Data."  Geordi turned left out of Ops, so
Data turned right.  Checking to see that no one was looking, Data
stepped into the nearest head and fused a small piece of bioplast
sheeting to his damaged hand.  Those plasma shocks worked the best
of anything he had tried yet; while humans recommended a cold water
shower, that did not seem to work for him.  To the casual observer,
he would look normal.  Of course, all his fingerprints had been
obscured and would not grow back for several weeks, but he was not
concerned about them.

He seemed to be functioning within normal parameters now, except for
the fact that he could not decide what to do next.  The emotion chip
seemed to route thoughts in random directions, from which they
bounced back to his consciousness in no particular order.  He
wandered toward the turbolift.  "Holodeck area."  Against all odds,
Lt. Barclay had salvaged his only saved holodeck program, and the
copy Data had downloaded made a reassuring weight in his pocket.
The holodeck area of the starbase was quite similar to that on the
Enterprise.  He entered an empty holodeck and plugged the cartridge
in.  Deanna Troi's former office appeared, as did Deanna's image.
"Computer, lock holodeck 4-J."

"Privacy lock engaged."

Deanna looked closely at Data, sauntering over and grasping him to
her in a warm, friendly hug.  "Hello, Data.  What can I do for you
today?"

"I am in need of advice."

"Why don't you sit down and tell me what's troubling you, Data?"
Her eyes lingered on him as she let him go, drawing her fingers
through his hair.

Data sat down hesitantly on the edge of the chair.  Then on impulse,
he relaxed deeply into it, closing his eyes.  [You can tell her; it
is just a program; it is not real.  Nobody will know.]  "I do not
believe my--sexual programs--have been functioning normally since
the emotion chip was installed."

"I see."  She sounded sympathetic enough.

"In the last 8.9 weeks, I have had sex with 51 beings of different
species and sexes.  They all appeared to enjoy the experience.
However, I cannot--achieve orgasm."  He felt his face warm by
several degrees; he knew it must be a bright gold. [This
embarrassment is quite intense.  Intriguing that I can feel
embarassment in front of no one but a holo--]  he felt the front of
his uniform trousers being rudely unsealed.

"Don't worry, Mr. Data.  I'll help you with that."

Indeed this counselor *was* programmed to be horny.  She leapt on
top of him with a gleeful expression and started to do her job,
unfortunately causing him to have an intense erection.  Somehow Data
doubted that this program would help him.  He needed an answer, and
the standard Starfleet Freud program was a bunch of--"hooey."  He
was too shy to ask any real people about the problem, so he was at a
loss about what to do.  Then, suddenly, the emotion chip took a
random thought, altered it, and threw it back into his
consciousness: the image of a bat'telh.  [No, she is too close.]
"Computer, Klingon short sword."  It shimmered into view at his
side.  Grabbing it, he quickly sliced the image of Troi from its
left shoulder to the right side of its abdomen.  The computer
obediently produced some green holo-fuzz along the cut, then her top
half slid to the floor.  As she vanished, servos in Data's groin
contracted slightly, bringing him just a hint of relief.  A small
amount of cum splashed on the floor.  [Ha, the holo-cleaning program
won't have any trouble with *that*.]  His penis was only partly
erect now.  As he remembered slashing the Troi image over and over,
his erection slowly disappeared, leaving only a small amount of
discomfort.  Data dressed, ended the program, and left the holodeck.

Data felt jumpy and overstimulated.  His ultrasensitive hearing
picked up everything, and he could not seem to turn down the gain at
will anymore.  Loud music was playing in one holodeck.  In another,
he heard sea birds calling. [Shut up.]  A cricket-type insect sang
in the next.  A woman laughed.  [Shut up!]  Somebody's commbadge
chirped.  A dish clattered to the deck.  Someone was repairing a
panel with a plasma fuser.  Data ground to a halt, covering his
ears.  "Shut up!"  he said, then louder, "Shut the fuck up!"

He came to his senses.  Apparently, the holodeck walls were too
soundproof, and nobody had heard him, but he ducked into the nearest
access ladderway just in case. He started thinking about what was
wrong with him.  He was acting just like Lore!  [This is how Lore
must have felt all along:  too jumpy, too irritated by everything.]
Before he realized what he was doing, he had climbed six decks.  He
got out and wandered the corridor until he saw a sign:  Cybernetics
Lab.  That brought him to a sudden stop.  Maddox.  Maddox had worked
here.  Two realizations hit him at the same time:  Maddox was
probably the only one who could help him, and he hated Maddox more
intensely than he had thought possible.  The doors did not open at
his approach, so he forced them.

As he examined the PADD on the first desk he passed, a shock went
through his body.  It was signed by Maddox himself!  The little jerk
must have transferred back here from the Daystrom Institute.  [Calm
down.  Maybe he can fix you.]  Data blinked and saw in his mind the
image of the bat'telh again.  It seemed to be in his hand, and he
was proceeding stealthily behind someone--Maddox.  He aimed the
weapon at Maddox's prissy little butt...[Oh, back to reality.]  He
read through several memory chips on Maddox's desk in the vain hope
that they might tell him something useful.  "Computer, location of
Dr. Maddox."

"Dr. Maddox is not aboard the starbase."

"What?  Where the hell did he go?"

"Hell is not a known location on Starfleet maps.  Dr. Maddox is on
leave at the Vulcan Academy."

"How long ago did he leave?"

"8.36 stardates before the present time."

[I just missed him; I just missed him!]  With an incoherent shout,
Data trashed the desk, then all the others in the office.  What a
rush it was to let his emotions control him!  He was feeling a great
sense of power, joyfully punching holes in equipment with his fists,
when he heard the security alarm.  With his superior intelligence
and speed still unhindered, he scratched a fine line in a floor
panel with his fingernail, then kicked it so it broke exactly in
half.  Descending under the floor, he lowered the panel back down,
knowing the fine break would be almost impossible to see.
Slithering easily through the life support access area, he made it
to a Jeffries tube and from there to a maintenance access near his
quarters.  Data chuckled.  He, of course, had left no hair, skin
cells, or other DNA traces.

As he entered his quarters, however, his mood plummeted.  There on
his desk sat his salvaged holograms, including the one of Spot.  On
the base was engraved, "Felis Catus is your taxonomic nomenclature."
Data turned it on and tenderly picked it up in his left hand.  "It
may be good that you are not here, Spot," he told the image.  "I do
not think I could take care of you anymore."  Beside where the
hologram had been sat his phaser.  As he looked at it, thoughts
bounced through his mind, twisted by the new chip.  He put down Spot
and picked up the weapon, staring at it, mesmerized.  Slowly his
thumb found the power dial and turned it up to full power.  [That
will vaporize me and most of the bulkhead behind me.]  A smile
touched his lips, growing until he started laughing, laughing so
hard he dropped the phaser.  His laughs turned to sobs, and he felt
his eyes fill with tears.  [What is wrong with me?]  He turned
around to stare desolately in the mirror; his eyes fell on the
reflection of his right hand.  He stopped crying as he saw in his
hand a new experimental nanocutting tool.  He must have grabbed it
from Maddox's lab!  He did not care what Beverly had said, he
*could* remove the emotion chip.  With this cutter, he would be rid
of all his problems permanently.  Of course, there was a chance (not
calculable, insufficient information) that he would burn out his
whole positronic net.  But then he would be rid of his problems too.
He should call Geordi and get him to help.  [No, I cannot wait for
Geordi.  He is probably too busy celebrating his new assignment
anyway.]  Before he could "chicken out," Data opened the access
panels on the side of his neck and the top of his head and removed
several components.  He needed to stabilize the area with one hand
while severing the connections with the other.  He did not need to
see what he was doing; he was familiar with his circuit layout.  At
what he thought was the proper spot, he aligned the cutter.
Unfortunately, he didn't realize that heat from the emotion chip had
caused the area of circuitry to warp by seven nanometers.  He
activated the cutter.

As his limbs splayed straight out, the cutter flew from his hand and
landed under the bed.  He didn't notice it.  He didn't notice when
his face smashed against the deck.

---

"...should start working any second now."  He jumped.  He was
restrained and could not see.  "Data, are you okay?  Hold on, I'm
going to activate the visual cortex."  He blinked several times as
his eyes got used to the lights.  He was in a lab, attached to a
diagnostic frame, several engineers looking at him with relief.
Geordi walked around in front of him, putting his hand on Data's
shoulder.  "I'm glad to have you back, Data."

"What has happened?"

"Well, as far as we can tell, someone attacked you a couple weeks
ago.  It was right after somebody trashed Maddox's lab.  They made a
pretty good getaway, but I guess they made a couple scratches in the
floor of a Jeffries tube on their way to your quarters.  They
apparently stole a nanotool from the lab to disable your neural net
with, then left it under your bed; not too smart, but they didn't
leave any fingerprints or DNA.  They managed to cut a bunch of your
primary cortical neurostrands.  But they sure had to remove a lot of
components to get to them.  I think they must have turned you off,
then cut the strands, then turned your switch back on.  But they
didn't reassemble your head afterwards.  Maybe they got scared and
ran off.  Your phaser was also on the floor, set on full power.  I
know you always keep it on stun, so they must have taken it, maybe
to vaporize you.  But they didn't, for some reason.  None of it
makes sense.  Don't you remember anything?"

Data blinked and moved his head to one side, trying to reorient
himself.  [What had happened?]  Then he remembered.  A thought
crossed his consciousness--he was severely damaged.  He should tell
Geordi, maybe be deactivated until his damage could be assessed.
Then something in the back of his mind spoke up--a desire to live,
not to be deactivated.  His lips moved, seemingly of their own
volition.  "No," Data lied.  "My memory record for that day seems to
be corrupted."

"Let's see whether your sense of balance is impaired.  You don't
feel dizzy, do you?"

Data effected his best clueless-android look.  "I have not yet
experienced dizziness.  I do not know whether I am capable of it."

"Okay," Geordi laughed.  "You sound like you're back to your old
self."  Geordi started releasing the restraining clamps.

"Geordi,"  Data asked, standing gingerly, "Is the emotion chip still
intact?"

"Yeah, amazingly.  They cut about seven nanometers from it.  In
fact, as far as I can tell, the circuits they cut don't seem to do
anything.  I'm afraid we don't completely understand Dr. Soong's
work."

"Of course," he whispered to himself.  "The operating temperature of
the emotion chip is 316.22 Kelvin, and the coefficient..."

"Sorry, I didn't hear you, Data."

[Whoa, I am talking to myself again!]  "I apologize, Geordi.  I seem
to be having a random memory surge concerning the optimum basting
temperature of pototion chips on planet Sixty-two Melvin.  It is
efficient."

"Oh, is that what planet they're from?  I love those.  Maybe you can
make me some later."

"Of course."  [These humanoids would believe *anything*!  Now, where
did *that* thought come from?]  Data did not remember having such a
distaste for humanoids before.  He looked around.  The lab was not
familiar.  "Are we on the Enterprise, Geordi?"

"Yeah, I'll *have* to show you around when we're finished here.  Of
course, it's not finished yet, but the upgrades to the..."

"I may join you later.  However, now I must locate my belongings and
find my quarters.  As long as you certify me fit for duty, I must be
prepared."

Geordi looked a little worried at Data's attitude.  "Well, I can't
find any defects in your brain.  As far as I can tell, everything
checks out okay, but, Data--you've suffered some pretty severe
damage.  It knocked out your whole neural net for weeks!  I'm going
to have to run more diagnostics on you before I certify you fit for
duty."

Data would have to act very bland now.  "I understand, Geordi.  I
will begin by running a self-diagnostic."  His eyes went unfocused
as his head flicked front and center.  A moment later, he came back
to himself, accessing a long list of error messages.  Instead of
incorporating them into his memory, he deleted them and decided to
lie about them.  "I detect no residual damage.  I believe the
damaged filaments were redundant systems only."

"That's a relief.  I'll still need to run some diagnositcs of my
own, though."

"Of course, Geordi."  By rerouting current, he was able to trick the
diagnostic instruments during several hours of evaluation from
Geordi--[intriguing that my internal clock no longer functions
normally]--before the engineer gave up.

"Well, I can't find any reason for your memory problems, or anything
else wrong with you, for that matter.  Of course, we don't fully
understand Dr. Soong's work.  As far as I can tell, you're fine
other than the memory lapse.  It was probably caused by a power
surge to your primary memory cells when you were attacked."  He
paused to disconnect the leads from Data's head and replace the
access panels.  "I'm going to 12-forward for dinner.  Would you like
to take a quick break and join me?"

"I would like to, but I must--take care of some personal
business--after I locate my quarters.  It may take some time."

"Okay, see ya around, Data."

"Goodbye, Geordi."

It did not take long for Data to find the quartermaster's replicator
station and requisition everything he would need.  He was informed
that his personal effects were already in his quarters, so he went
there.  He felt almost as calm as before the upgrade had been
installed, except for a vague dislike of organic beings.  Data sat
down on the edge of his bunk.  "Computer, access main computer,
starbase 173, and request all information on investigation of the
ransacking of Commander Maddox's office.  Display on screen here."
He read through it in 0.4 seconds.  "Computer, request all
information on investigation of attack on Commander Data, same
starbase."  There was not much more information there.  He was
confident that Starbase security would never find out what had
really happened. [And it was a total impulse on my part.  I had no
plan.  I fooled them without any thought.]  A smile came to his
face.  [The emotion chip is still working after all.]  But he did
not have the misery, the mood swings, the horrible jumpy feeling
anymore.  He started to rifle through his belongings.  He retrieved
two holograms from his case and activated the one with Spot.  [No
emotional response.  Hm.]  Then he activated the one with Tasha and
immediately the swollen feeling came back to his groin. [Oh, shit, I
still have *that* problem.]  Unsealing his trousers, he reclined on
the bunk and caressed his cock.  As he stared at Tasha's image, his
eyes slowly closed, and Tasha blurred into--Beverly.  Stroking
himself faster, he imagined her clothes falling away.  He heard a
sharp *crack* and jumped up.  But there had been no sound, just a
wonderful idea.  "Computer, synthesize one flower, using the code
sequence I input."  Data knew about the Regulan tea-vine
flower--between his insatiable curiosity and his knack with
computers, there were a lot of things he knew about.  He typed at
the replicator interface for several minutes.  As the blossom
shimmered into existence, he tapped his commbadge.  "Data to Dr.
Crusher."

"Crusher here."

"Do you have time to meet me in 12-Forward?  I would like to discuss
something with you."

---

Beverly couldn't imagine why Data would want to see her in
12-forward.  When he walked in wearing civilian clothing and an odd
flower barely visible under his jacket, she was even more
interested.  Data generally wore his uniform at all times except
when on the holodeck or disguised for away team duty.  Deanna had
told her that Data even slept in his uniform.  He ordered two drinks
and strolled over to her.  As he sat across from her, it occurred to
Beverly that he had never looked better, and she found herself
getting horny.

Bev's hand was on the table near her drink.  Data took it in both of
his and held it gently, romantically.  "Beverly, there is something
I have wanted to tell you ever since I received my emotion upgrade.
I am strongly attracted to you.  I am sorry I pushed you into the
water; I hope you can forgive me, but I did not understand anything
then.  I understand now."  He stroked her hand.  Bev inhaled the
flower's scent, which seemed to go directly to her genitals.  Well,
it wasn't like Jean-Luc was ever going to come on to her again, not
after she had dumped him when they got back from Kes-Prit.  Data got
up from the table, still holding her hand.  She followed meekly all
the way back to her quarters.

They walked in, and Data dropped all pretense of romancing her.  He
slowly peeled off her uniform, then his clothing, revealing his
amazing anatomical gifts.  He grasped her shoulders and pushed her
to the carpet, quickly mounting her.  As he penetrated her, suddenly
plunging in as far as he could, Beverly noticed he didn't seem too
concerned about doing anything for her.  Well, maybe he was just
untutored.  But the ship gossip had been that Data was programmed in
multiple techniques, a broad variety of pleasuring.  If so, he
didn't seem to be doing any of it now.  "Data, you could be a little
more--romantic.  Didn't Dr. Soong teach you anything about
foreplay?"  But Data didn't seem to be paying any attention to her.
His unblinking yellow eyes were focused about three meters behind
her head.

Yes, this was it; this was what he needed; it was not like the last
51 times.  For he knew how it would end.  "Data, stop it.  That
hurts!"  Beverly continued to jabber.  He cradled her head gently
with one hand.  [It is happening; it is happening!]  He was very
close to coming now.  Just a few--more--he wound Beverly's hair
tightly in his hand-- almost--*crack*.

He grunted with the first contraction, loosing a powerful burst of
cum into her lifeless body.  Several times he was shaken by pleasure
[do not pull out yet!].  When he was through, he allowed himself a
few moments to bask in the glorious relieved feeling before he
rolled off her, dressed, and worked her uniform back onto her.  He
then propped her in a chair, ignoring her dangling head, searching
her quarters carefully.  [Where is that neural stimulator?  I know
she keeps one here.  Oh, there it is.]  The device was already
designed to send out a powerful current of neural energy, and
Beverly had been experimenting on it to increase the power output.
With a few crossed circuits here and there, it could shoot out a
fireball strong enough to vaporize most of Bev's body and incinerate
the sabotaged circuits as well.  As Data worked, he started to
whistle without realizing it.  Then he noticed he was whistling, and
pretty well too!  There, now everything was set up.  He grinned as
he thought about the fake commbadge he was wearing; they would not
even be able to tell he had been here!  After listening at the door
and determining no one was in the area, he activated the stimulator.
It would take a while to warm up, and Data waltzed out the door,
feeling satisfied at last.  He felt so confident, he did not even
worry about someone dropping by to see Beverly.  [At this hour?
Certainly not.]  He was back in his quarters and in uniform before
the red alert siren sounded.

Data reported to the bridge as usual for red alert, even though they
were still in spacedock, and there stood that annoying Worf, glaring
at him as if to say, "I will tolerate your existence because you are
my superior officer, but I would just as soon kill you."

Picard appeared from the other turbolift.  "Report, Mr. Worf."

"There has been an explosion on Deck 6, section 19.  Security and
medical are responding....  It is in Dr. Crusher's quarters, sir."

Picard started to lose his composure just for an instant, then
stoically continued.  "Are the fire containment fields working?"

"Yes, sir, fire is extinguished."

"I'm going down there.  Number One, you have the bridge."

Data seemed calm as he worked at his console, but his mind was
racing faster than usual.  If the blast had not incinerated
everything properly, they would be able to trace his semen from its
pseudo-RNA sequence.  He would have to remember that for next time.
If they found the sabotage in the instrument, it would also narrow
their suspects to him and a few of the engineers.  Maybe he had not
thought this out well enough.

It was not too long that Picard called a meeting of the senior
officers.  Data did his best to act surprised when the captain told
them that Beverly had been killed in the explosion.  "Data, I don't
recall ever hearing of a neural stimulator exploding like that
before.  Do you know of any cases like this?"

"Yes, sir, there have been 31 reported cases of drastic neural
stimulator malfunction, most of them before the phased overload
shunt was incorporated on stardate 25662.  However, nine cases have
occurred since then: six because of an irregular power supply in the
oscillating Fizzbuckle manifold, one when the vortex inverter..."

"Data!  I don't need to know exactly why each one exploded!  Geordi,
do you think this could have been a simple malfunction?"

Data listened to Geordi explain to the captain that it would be hard
to tell because the insrument had been vaporized [duh].  Why did the
captain always *do* that?  Oh, the others did it once in a while
too, but mostly Picard.  [Picard asks me a question.  I try to
answer it to the best of my ability.  After all, I would not want to
leave out something important.  Picard stops me after about two
sentences.  Well, if he did not want to know the answer, why did he
ask the question?]

"...is there a problem, Commander?"

Data blinked as his reverie vanished, to be replaced by the
conference room and Riker's bellicose expression, and he suddenly
realized that his attention had completely slipped away from the
discussion.  This had never happened to him before, had it?  His
memory might be going as well.  He felt his face glow a bright gold.
"I am sorry, sir.  I guess I am--upset about Dr. Crusher.  I am
afraid I did not hear you."

Riker sat back in his chair.  "Don't worry, Data.  It's getting to
all of us.  The captain ordered you to work with Mr. LaForge on the
investigation."

"Yes, sir."  That Riker was always so hostile.  He was always
bitching at alien species; it was a miracle nobody had declared war
on the Federation because of it. [Hey, the crystalline life form on
Volara III had.  Who knows what Riker had done to them down in the
med lab?]

Data worked with Geordi the rest of the day, examining what little
remained of the neural stimulator.  But he pretended he was too
upset to get much done.  Anyway, there was not much left of the
thing.  Data's emotion chip automatically accessed a record from an
old "show," from "television."  [That blew up reeeeal goood.]  He
turned toward a corner and covered his face to mask a smile.  Geordi
thought he was overwhelmed with grief.  "Data, why don't we take a
break in 12-forward and..."

"Chirpety-chirp."  One of the med techs had been taking samples
nearby.  "Smith to Commander Riker."

"Riker here."

"Sir, we've found something unusual.  It's an odd kind of pollen.
Dr. Crusher had a lot of house plants, but this doesn't match any of
them.  In fact, there are no plants of this species on the ship that
we can find.  We're searching Federation databases now for more
information."

"Good work, Mr. Smith.  Report when you're done with the search.
Riker out."

Data lurched out of the room.  Geordi felt bad for him.  "Poor guy,"
he told Smith.  "He just got the emotion chip, and now this."

Data's mind swirled.  Now what was he going to do?  Killing Smith
would not get him anywhere; the whole medical team already knew
about the pollen.  Although it was classified, the Captain and Riker
still had access to the information.  It would not take Picard long
to find out the species of flower.  He hurried to his quarters to
destroy all the memory cells in the replicator unit.  That might
work.  But how would he explain the destroyed memory cells?  And
anyway, there was probably a trail of pollen all the way from his
quarters, to 12-forward, and over to Beverly's quarters.
"Computer."  Now, wait, he could not be too specific.  Telling the
computer to destroy pollen would be like a red flag.  "Remove all
dust particles of less than one-half millimeter diameter from my
cabin."  He fiddled with the replicator as the computer started
cleaning.  There, the replicator memory was as damaged as he could
make it without drawing suspicion to himself.  Data closed his eyes
as the computer ran a small cleaning field over him, removing the
dust from the room.  The sensation was somewhat pleasant.  He let
his mind wander idly.  Yes, he would have to take care of Picard
next.  He did not like the idea, but it was the only way.  On
impulse, Data removed his communicator, popping it open and studying
its inner workings, then disabling just the right circuit.  It did
not matter; everybody on board had a spare communicator anyway, so
he would not need to raise suspicion by synthesizing a new one.
Data daydreamed of Jean-Luc's hard body, his sinewy limbs and firm
little butt, straining against Data's own manhood.  Of course, he
ended up getting another excruciating hard-on.  He opened his eyes
and sat up straight.  Okay, he had to think about the evidence.
Getting an idea, he opened a small panel near his groin and started
making modifications.

---

Jean-Luc Picard stared at his breakfast.  He normally would have
eaten with Beverly, but that wasn't going to happen any more.  He
hadn't beeen able to sleep, and he didn't feel like eating either.
Then he heard the door chime.  "Come."  He was surprised to see Data
in his doorway.  "What can I do for you, Mr. Data?"

"We have transferred the report about the neural stimulator into the
computer, Captain.  I am afraid we did not have much success."
[Civilian clothes and no communicator.  So far, so good.]  Jean-Luc
nodded.  "Captain, may I ask a--personal question?"

Picard looked at Data a moment.  "Yes."

"I am finding it hard to deal with Dr. Crusher's death.  Are you
having the same difficulty?"

"Data, I assure you I am not as calm as I appear.  But each of us
must get through it in his own way."

"I had hoped we could help each other, sir."  Data gently put one
arm around Jean-Luc's shoulders as, with the other, he stroked his
jaw, slowly bringing the Captain's face around toward his own.
Tracing Picard's lips with one finger, Data stared directly into his
eyes.

Picard drew back slightly and gave Data a strange look.  "Mr. Data,
I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but I--just don't think of you
in that--way."

Before Picard could do anything, Data used the Vulcan nerve pinch on
him.  [Still perfect at it!]  Data's cock sprung out of confinement
as he unsealed his uniform and eased Picard to the floor under him.
Opening the captain's mouth, he rammed his penis into it, starting a
steady rhythm.  His mind thrilled with pleasure at the thought of
what was going to happen next.  As Data became more and more
excited, a small drop of cum formed at the tip of his penis and fell
into Jean-Luc's mouth, touching his tongue and being absorbed into
the bloodstream.  As Picard spasmed, in cardiac arrest, Data
marvelled at the gifts his father had so casually bestowed on him.
Data was able to make his cum any flavor he wanted to--lemon,
peppermint, hot chocolate, Earl Grey Tea--so of course he could
synthesize any molecules he wanted to include.  These included
several highly toxic compounds.  "You will not interrupt me again,
old man," Data whispered in Picard's unhearing ear.  He was so
happy, he didn't even notice that he was going to come until it
happened; he loosed several wads into Picard's mouth before pushing
off and letting the rest impinge on the carpet, creating a dark
brown stain.  Almost in a stupor from emotional overload, he
collapsed onto the floor, laughing softly.  "Tea," he chuckled,
"tea."

Several minutes of afterglow-soaked lethargy had passed before he
regained his composure. [Yes, I have cetainly damaged my internal
clock.]  Standing, he straightened his uniform, looking the model of
Starfleet cleanliness.  "Computer!" he barked in Picard's
authoritative tone.  "Tea, Earl Grey, hot!"  Data drank most of the
tea, exactly the same amount of liquid as the cum he had produced,
spilling what little was left into the puddle on the floor.  He
pressed the cup into Picard's hand and strode briskly out.

At last he had relief once again.  Data wanted to be seen, so he
made himself very visible in 12-forward, standing by the window and
playing 3-D chess with Geordi, acting quite surprised when all
senior officers were called to the observation lounge by a
shaken-sounding Commander Riker.

---

Data and Geordi entered the observation lounge to see Riker, Worf,
and Selar, along with Admiral Nofunnyshit from Starbase 173.  Worf
was glaring suspiciously at Data, as usual, but Data put on a
confused look and sat at the table.  Admiral Nofunnyshit stood up.

"Gentlemen, I regret to inform you that Captain Picard is dead."

Data blinked and turned his head slightly, acting shocked.  Moments
later, he sensed something new in the air--what was it?  Then Data
realized something wonderful.  Along with his emotion chip and his
new sense of taste, he had received a newly-acute sense of smell.
And right now he could detect pheromones from everyone in the room.

With some type of new humanoid instinct, he sensed all their
emotions:  The admiral--stoic, determined; Riker--a numb state of
shock; Worf--mad as hell! Selar--calm [duh]; and Geordi?  Geordi was
quite upset at the news.  He looked over at Geordi and saw him slump
back in his chair, one hand over his VISOR.  It must have been
Geordi's intense emotions that he sensed; the others had already
known.  For some reason, a wave of remorse hit him with an almost
physical shock.  He had never meant to hurt Geordi; Geordi had never
disrespected him like the others, treated him like a clueless idiot
or a piece of convenient equipment.  And now look what he had done!

[Did I cut the leads to my morality buffer?  I have to fix myself
somehow.  Wait, the Admiral is saying something.]

"Dr. Selar, report."

"We have determined the cause of death to be poisoning," she droned.
"According to replicator records, he had ordered tea at 0726 hours.
He was found beside the replicator with the teacup in his hand and
tea spilled on the floor.  There was some tea in his mouth, but none
in the stomach contents.  This fact pointed to a very toxic
substance that can kill by touching the mouth.  My team scanned and
found five grams per liter of Andorian Brogmoid toxin in the tea."

"Wow, that's pretty concentrated," Geordi mused.  He seemed to have
regained his composure now that he had something technical to
analyze.  "But--that's *impossible*!  Nobody can just go and make
something like that in the replicator; it wouldn't comply!  There's
four independent safeguards for that type of thing!  And I don't
believe it could be a simple malfunction."

"Yes, I suspect foul play as well," the Admiral confirmed.  "I don't
know how, but there is something serious happening here.  I can't
ignore the attack on Commander Data, as well as the suspicious death
of Dr. Crusher.  Commander, have you been able to remember anything
else about the night of your attack?"

"I am sorry, Admiral, but I cannot.  I believe a power surge may
have wiped that section of my memory."  The lie got smoother each
time.

"Commander La Forge, I'd ask you to help him try to recover his
memories, but I need you to work on the replicator problem.  I want
a level-one diagnostic of all food slots on the ship.  Commander
Riker, considering your fine service record, I'm promoting you to
Captain of this ship.  I wish it were under better circumstances."

"Yes, sir."

"Captain Riker, continue with your investigation.  I believe that
all these incidents are connected in some way.  And good luck."

"Yes, sir."  The Admiral left.  "Mr. Worf, I want a full security
alert on this ship starting immediately.  Coordinate with Lt.
Glarbfarb on the starbase.  Dismissed."

"Aye, sir."  Worf graced Data with one more suspicious glare as he
left.

"Lt. Selar, have you been able to reach any conclusions about the
pollen found in Dr. Crusher's quarters?"

"We have conducted an exhaustive database search of all Federation
planets but have not found the species of plant.  No one so far
reports seeing any strange flowers on the ship or the station.  No
replicator records exist of any nonstandard flora being
synthesized."

[Well, of course not.  I know how to hide my tampering in a simple
*replicator*.]

"We are continuing our database search of non-Federation worlds."

"Continue your investigation, Lieutenant.  Dismissed."

"Aye, sir."  She left.

Riker got up and paced uneasily to and fro.  "Data, Geordi, what
could be *happening?*" he pleaded.  He smacked the table with his
fist.  "Damn, it's so *senseless.*  Data, what is Commander Troi's
scheduled ETA from Vulcan?  Maybe she can help us with this
situation."

"She is on board the T'Valon, scheduled to arrive in approximately
2.1 days, sir."

"Contact her ship and use my authorization code to override the
galactic speed limit.  They are to proceed with all due haste."
Riker handed Data an authorization chip.  "And then see about trying
to recover some memories from the night of your attack, if possible.
Geordi, look into the replicator problem.  Dismissed."

Data emerged onto the bridge, walking past two security guards and
through Worf's baleful glare.  He showed the annoying Klingon his
best bland android-face. [Damn, now that meddling *Troi* is going to
be here.]  He had no skill at hiding his brand-new emotions from the
likes of her!  What would he do?  He had to call Troi's ship; he
could not raise suspicion.

---

After Data had contacted the T'Valon, he went to Engineering to get
some circuit-analysis equipment.  After all, he had to pretend he
was trying to solve his memory block.  He had a pile of equipment
stacked on the floor over to one side when Worf stalked in.  He saw
Data and immediately drew himself up importantly.  [Haughty bastard!
Give me one reason not to hate you.]  The klutz almost tripped over
the equipment.  He growled and looked disgusted at Data.
"Com-MAN-der.  Will you be removing this equipment soon?"

Data managed a polite little good-android attitude.  "Yes, Mr. Worf.
I am sorry if I have inconvenienced you."  Data would have liked to
have called him "sir," just for fun.  [That did it.  You're next,
jerk!]  Worf stalked away haughtily just as Geordi walked in.

"Data, can I talk to you?"

"Certainly, Geordi."

"Are you okay?  You seemed pretty upset earlier."

"I am--as well as could be expected, Geordi."  His dislike for
Geordi had now disappeared; in fact, he felt almost protective of
him.  For just a moment, he wanted to confess everything to Geordi;
then he regained his senses.

"Well, I just wanted to break some bad news to you alone so you
wouldn't be surprised.  It seems they've assigned a new CMO to the
ship, and it's--Kate Pulaski."

Just in time, Data checked an intense urge to hurl the automated
dynamic enhancer he was holding against the bulkhead.  He acted
normal.  "I am not too upset, Geordi.  I should not have to
associate with her too much."

"Well, that's not the only thing.  Ship's grapevine says she's been
having a tryst with Admiral Nofunnyshit, and he thought he'd let her
onboard the Enterprise to try to fix your memory."

"What?"  Data yelled.  A couple technicians turned to look at him.
He lowered his voice.  "That, that--sawbones--would not know a
positronic net from a duotronic relay," he whispered to Geordi.
"What does she hope to accomplish?"

"Actually, Data--I don't know the details myself, but I heard she
had a pretty good idea about using your dream program to retrieve
your lost files.  And at least she doesn't want to disassemble you
like some people we know."

"Thank you for telling me, Geordi.  Geordi--"  Data didn't really
want to ask, but something compelled him.  "Maybe this is not
appropriate, but I am--curious.  Did you hear anything about who is
to be--the new first officer?"

"Nobody's told me anything yet, Data.  But I'll let you know."
Geordi went back to the food slot control systems as Data took the
equipment to his quarters.  He removed a few access panels just in
case someone stopped by, then lay on his bed and let his mind
wander.  That was one of the great things about his emotion chip.
It would generate thoughts of its own, seemingly at random.  He
never knew what it might come up with next, and he didn't have to
sit around analyzing symphonies or memorizing baseball stats all
day. 

After an unknown amount of time, he visualized Worf's scowling
face.  Klingons were all so arrogant.  Where would Worf be now?
Data didn't need to ask the computer; all he did was ask for the
time.  It was 1136 hours, and Worf would be on the holodeck doing
his workout; nothing short of a red alert could stop him.  Getting
up, Data replaced the panels on his head.  Next he took out a
hypersonic cutter and severed the power connection to his semen
generators, then drained the reservoir.  [Cannot be too careful.]
After making a few more modifications to his body, he switched his
communicator with the nonfunctional one he had modified earlier and
left his quarters.

At the turbolift door, a security guard noted on a PADD the time he
got in.  Apparently they were not trusting the communicators any
more.  Oh, well, those idiots had not proved too successful at
figuring anything out yet.  He didn't mention Worf to the computer,
knowing the Klingon was set in his ways.  The holodeck
configurations of this new ship were quite similar to those of the
old Enterprise, and Worf would be in his favorie holodeck on Deck 8.
At the entrance to the holodeck area was another security guard who
noted his location on another PADD.  Data breezed by him, trying to
project a respectful, grief-stricken attitude.  Sure enough, when he
got to the holodeck entrance, he found Worf Calisthenics Program
Level 16 in progress, and barged in to find Worf battling six
green-skulled holo-opponents.  "Computer, bat'telh."  He grabbed it
and sauntered over to Worf, who was disheveled and sweaty.  "You do
not mind if I join you, do you, Commander?"

"Ugh, well, I, ugh, guess not,"  Worf answered as he fought off some
vicious blows.  A few more holomonsters were generated as the
computer heard Data's voice.

Data knew that Worf routinely disabled the holodeck safety
protocols.  Data could possibly just make the program more advanced
until the holograms killed Worf.  But that would not be any fun!
Data felt himself getting a little aroused at the sight of the
sweaty, grunting Klingon, but then something seemed to knock him off
balance slightly.  [Oh, right, one of the holo-opponents.]  He idly
smacked it with his fist, punching a green fuzzy hole through its
midsection.  He took out a couple more with the bat'telh while
admiring Worf's rippling muscles--Worf liked to wear only a
loincloth to his private workouts.  Data was a bit warm, so he
removed his uniform, casually breaking another holomonster's neck
while he was at it.  He noticed he was now fully erect. 

Bored, he dispatched all the holomonsters but two, leaving Worf to
take care of them.  Worf managed to stab one of them with the point
of the bat'telh, then twirl around and kick the other one in the
throat. As Worf finished strangling the second one, Data saw a
distinct bulge under the loincloth, which only made his own erection
throb more acutely.  He walked slowly toward Worf, holding the
bat'telh at the ready, a look of challenge in his eyes.  Worf took the
bait so easily, Data could hardly believe his good fortune.

The first thing Data did was slash Worf's loincloth with the edge of
his bat'telh.  This only seemed to make Worf even more fighting mad.
Data backed away slowly, wiggling the bat'telh in front of him.
"Come on, big boy, come and get me!"  Incoherent with rage, Worf
charged, swinging the weapon across for a stabbing blow to Data's
abdomen.  Data parried easily, locking the weapons together,
reaching out at full speed to grab Worf's bat'telh and twist it out
of his grip.  He almost twisted Worf's arm off, but he sent the
weapon flying.  He smiled as he threw his own away.  Worf seemed a
bit surprised at Data's strength--[Does he not remember the time
Lore beat him up?]--but still seemed willing to go on hand-to-hand.
Worf attacked ferociously, quickly smashing his forehead against
Data's. 

Data didn't even bother to dodge as Worf bounced back, slightly dazed. 
He couldn't help but giggle as he told Worf, "My upper spinal support
is a polyalloy designed to withstand extreme stress.  My skull is
constructed of cortenide and duranium." 

Data grabbed Worf's shoulders and spun him around, then gave him a
sharp chop to the back which shattered the Klingon's spinal ridge and
sent him slamming face-first to the deck.  Data stomped on him,
grinding bone fragments into the nerve.  Data couldn't resist the
temptation of those hard buttocks any longer.  He mounted Worf, who
unfortunately was not able to resist his entry.  [Oh, well, any old
port in a storm!]  Data started laughing uncontrollably as he thrust
repeatedly into Worf, then his laughter turned into quiet sighs of
satisfaction. 

However, Worf wasn't finished.  He took advantage of the android's
distraction to grab his arm and pull him down. Although surprised,
Data found he was in just the right position to whisper tenderly in
the big Klingon's ear.  "Oh, by the way, *SIR*, I have welded a cover
over my off switch, so do not bother trying to reach it." 

Worf latched his fingers around Data's ear and yanked on it as hard as
he could.  "Hey, you *do* have pluck, Worfy!" 

The sound of tearing synthoskin and sensory mesh for some reason
increased Data's pleasure.  Worf growled as the ear ripped free, but
it didn't faze Data at all; he just kept going at it, and he was
able to lift his head above Worf's reach now.  Worf continued to
fumble behind his back with both hands, seeking to dislodge Data's
arms, but Data had shifted his position and was sitting up,
clutching either side of Worf's pelvis with a blind intensity.
"ohhhhhh, computer----- ugh, bat'telh."  It materialized beside him.
Worf tried to grab it, but Data was much faster.  With one swift
stroke, he brought the bat'telh down, decapitating Worf, and thrust
into him one last time to experience his most intense climax yet,
tilting his face upward for a moment as a tiny sound of ecstasy
escaped his throat, then collapsing onto Worf's sweaty back, riding
wave after wave of pleasure until he felt emotionally spent.

When he rose, he found himself trembling.  Since he could not become
physically fatigued, he thought it must be from some strange
emotional interaction.  He looked around and found his ear in a
splatter of blood near Worf's head.  Not wanting to wipe the blood
off, he licked it off instead and stuck the ear back on as well as
he could, messing up his hair a little to cover the most obvious
skin defects.  Walking to where he had thrown his uniform safely
clear of the mess, he clothed himself.  "Computer," he spoke in
Worf's booming tone, "Level 22."  Behind the trees, he heard many
holo-opponents materializing.  [Apparently Worf's fascination with
overriding the safety protocols was a fatal error.]  Data nodded in
a businesslike way to the security officer as he left the holodeck
area.

---

After a brief visit to his quarters to reattach his ear, Data made
himself visible in Engineering, helping Geordi with the replicator
control systems.  "I am at a loss as to what is wrong with my
memory, Geordi, so I thought I would be of more use to you here.
Perhaps Dr. Pulaski will be able to help me," he lied.  It was only
4.36 hours later that he and Geordi received a message from Captain
Riker to report to Transporter Room 2, where Dr. Pulaski was
arriving.

"Hello, Geordi.  Hello, Datta."  Data gave her a nasty look.  "Oh,
forgive me, Commander, I mean 'Data.'  Say, you are different since
your emotion upgrade, aren't you?"  She immediately began to scan
him, right in front of everybody in the transporter room.  "Oh, I
see some changes here, in the hypothalamic emulator.  And look here,
Geordi..."

"Could we please continue this in Sickbay, Doctor?"  Data was
embarrassed at Dr. Pulaski's lack of respect for him as a sentient
being; she had not changed a bit.  [If I had a digestive system, she
would be discussing my gas problems, too!]  All the way to sickbay,
Pulaski yammered on about Data's brain functions, mostly his dream
program.

"Datta, I can't wait to start testing your emotional systems against
varying stimuli!  Geordi, do you think we could plug his brain into
the holodeck so we could watch the whole thing?  I heard you did
that once."

"Forgive me, Doctor, but I'm trying to understand what relevance
this has to restoring Data's memory.  That's what he's been trying
to do."

"Oh, um, his memory, yes, right.  Well, I was hoping--have you ever
heard of Frombolli's Principle of memory access?  It's a very
elementary topic in medical school.  Of course, it's only
theoretical because we can't view an organic being's dreams, but
with Mr. Datta here it will be a first for me to pub--um, to help
Mr. Datta recall his memories."

"Oh, yes, I understand.  Ah, could you meet us in Holodeck One,
Doctor?  I need Data to help me get the hydrosonic dissipator from
my quarters."

"Certainly."  She continued down the hall.

Data waited until she was out of earshot.  "Geordi, why did you lie
to Dr. Pulaski?  Although I must admit, she is still as much of a
bitch as ever."

"I've heard of that theory, Data.  Haven't you?"

"I have seen it referenced, but I have not memorized that particular
issue of JUFMA yet."

"It's very speculative.  What Kate wants to do is a bunch
of--bullshit!  I think she's using Admiral Nofunnyshit to practice
her voyeurism on you.  She wants to plug your dreams into the
holodeck, yet she's not going to find anything useful from it.  I
trust you to tell me if you remember anything.  After all, why
*wouldn't* you?

Data paused for a moment.  "Yes, why would I not?"  he asked, a
little sadly.  But Geordi was too steamed up to notice.

"I'm telling you, Data, don't agree to the holodeck thing.  But we
have to pretend we're going along with her."  He thought a moment.
"I know.  When she plugs you in, just disable the holodecks."

"That sounds like a reasonable course of action," Data replied.
[However, when I disable the holodecks, people will start wondering
why Worf has not returned.  Otherwise, I would have had until his
duty shift started at 2200 hours.]

Detouring to get a hydrosonic dissipator from a cargo bay, they went
to meet Kate.

---

"Here you are, Mr. Datta--Data--whatever.  Just lie on this
diagnostic bed.  Don't worry, it's real.  I had it brought down from
Sickbay."

"Yes, sir."  [Your turn is coming, Sister!]  As he wondered how he
would ever get himself horny enough to fuck Pulaski, Data lay down
and obediently opened the proper access panel.  Geordi plugged him
into the holoemitter interface.  It didn't take Data long to find
the EPS shunt and blow out all holoemitter power.

"Oh, no, I wonder what happened?"  Geordi said--[not real great
acting skill, but it will do.]  "Doctor, I'd better get to
Engineering to check this out.  Data, maybe you should come with
me."

"Excuse me, Mr. LaForge, but the Captain's orders were for Datta to
retrieve his memories, not to help you with the holodecks.  We can
still continue the experiment even without the holodeck."  Data
noted, however, that Pulaski looked mightily disappointed.  "I'll
just take Mr. Datta back up to Sickbay, where I can monitor him more
closely.  Dismissed!"

"Yes, sir!"  Geordi hurried out, glad to be away from the strident
shrew.

Data could not help himself.  "Doctor, if it is that important,
should we not--beam directly to Sickbay?"

"Certainly *not*!"  Pulaski bitched.  You are a *machine*, after
all!  Follow me."

Data snapped to attention and saluted.  "Yes, *sir*!"--then hurried
after her.

Once they got to Sickbay, Pulaski shouted orders.  "Selar, bring me
those isolinear cables!  Ogawa, I want all i/o port information for
Mr. Datta!  Slurgmoth, bring the diagnostic monitoring equipment
over here!  Datta, lie on this biobed!"  Everyone obeyed her except
Data.  [Oh why, oh, *why* did I get rid of Crusher?  Bad idea.]

"Were you speaking to me, Doctor?"

She looked at him, surprised, then figured out her mistake.  "I'm
sorry, Mr. Datta, Data--whatever.  Lie on this biobed."  He obeyed
reluctantly.  They spent 21.7 minutes connecting him to the monitor;
he could have done it in 1.3, but preferred not to help, instead
lying on the bed as ordered while they unsealed his uniform to put
sensors everywhere.  Data did not ask Pulaski how the groin sensors
were meant to help him regain his memory; she would get what she
deserved soon enough.  Eventually, the plodding creatures were done
connecting him.  "Mr. ... Data, engage dream program."

"Engaging."  [Not long now, Pulaski.]

---

He was walking down the corridor of the Enterprise, but he could not
remember where he wanted to go.  Then he came to a door which was
apparently his quarters, so he proceeded to enter.  When he entered,
however, it was actually a holodeck, simulating a tropical beach.
He heard a girlish voice.  "Here, Data."

"Tasha?"  And it was the real Tasha, not a hologram.  He noticed her
attire was optimized for absorbing the most solar radiation; she was
wearing nothing.  "I am sorry; I did not know you were alive."

"Oh, that was just a mistake.  I didn't really die."  [I knew it all
along.  It had to be a mistake.  She had not really died.]  Then she
smiled and sauntered over to him.  "And now I would like to try your
functions.  You are fully functional, correct?"

Data found himself becoming extremely aroused.  "Yes, I
am...fully...functional...and programmed in multiple--" she kissed
him then, and he responded involuntarily-- "techniques."  He found,
however, that the lovemaking process did not require him to
consciously run any of his pleasuring programs; it all seemed to
happen without thought, from the moment she started to remove his
uniform until they both lay satisfied on the sand.  The whole
experience had a fuzzy unreality to it as well.  Data found he could
not remember any details of the experience; however, he knew that it
had been--what was the word?--enjoyable.  Enjoyable.  An unknown
experience for him, but now it was an emotion he thought he could
understand.  But why could he not remember exactly what had
happened?   He thought he might need to perform a level 3
self-diagnostic later, but now he only relaxed under her touch as
she stroked his hair gently.  He thought he was happy, yes, happy
that he had received and given pleasure.  Then he looked around and
noticed they were on Tasha's bunk.

"That was wonderful, Data," she sighed.  "What else can you do?
Never mind; I'm sure I'll find out later."

Did that mean Tasha--liked him?  He felt that humans never wanted to
be close to him; maybe they were afraid.  But Tasha had implied that
they would see each other again.  Data was not very self-confident
in matters of romance; nevertheless, he managed enough courage to
say, "There is a concert in 10-forward tonight.  Would you like to
attend with me?"

Data, waiting in an emotional state as fragile as a glass goblet,
watched as Tasha's face changed from relaxed and happy to an
expression of disgust.  "Why would I want to be seen in public with
*you*, you awful robot?"  She smiled wickedly as an idea hit her.
"Ooooo, you probably think I *like* you or something!"  She started
to laugh uproariously.  "Don't you know?"  She beckoned to someone
in the other room.  "He doesn't know!  Ha, ha, he thought I liked
him!"  Several members of the crew entered the room, but Data
somehow could not remember their names.  "Ha, ha!  He didn't know I
was just curious about his techniques!  They're pretty decent, too,
but yuck!  To *associate* with him?  Ha, ha!  Too bad you won't fit
in the drawer with my other dildos; you'll just have to go back to
your quarters!"

Data was so surprised, he forgot to breathe.  His operating
temperature rose dramatically, and he felt his face grow hot--was
this rage?  He was at a loss as to what to do, but an urge began to
grow in his mind, grew in amplitude until he could almost feel it
pounding against his skull.  His left hand shot towards Tasha, who
was doubled over with laughter now.  Without understanding why, he
grabbed her by the neck and started increasing the pressure ever so
slowly.  She was not laughing now, but staring at him with a
stricken expression.  She hit him, then kicked him, then bit him,
but he was immovable.  He tightened his grip, fascinated at the
contrasting colors of his gold hand against her skin.  Tasha started
to turn an unhealthy blue-grey.  He squeezed tighter.  She became
unconscious.  He squeezed tighter.  He heard various tissues in her
neck snap.  He squeezed tighter, sobbing softly as all his rage was
channeled towards her limp body.  Then with a fabulous relief, he
swung his arm as hard as he could, throwing her against the wall
with a sharp crack of breaking bone, then picking up her corpse and
throwing it against the wall again, absolutely as hard as he could,
causing cracks to appear in the bulkhead.  A surge of emotional
release rushed through him as he kicked her lifeless form again and
again; then, frustrated that he could kill her only once, he
collapsed onto her bunk.  [How could she betray me like that?  She
had it coming.]  As he lay motionless, the feeling of vindication
slowly turned to an overwhelming guilt, then despair.  He began to
cry pitiously, sobbing for some time until he felt himself in a dark
place where everything was flat, all emotions calmed.  He had
accepted his fate now.  He would go quietly when they came to
disassemble him.  That was his emotional state when he looked up to
see Dr. Pulaski looming before him.

"Data, you know you've always had emotions, even before you installed
the emotion chip.  I was the only one who noticed--Datta.  You had a
circuit for bruised feelings.  And I knew how you loved Sarjenka.  But
you weren't satisfied; you denied them, and so did everyone else, I'm
afraid. How many times did you tell people you had no emotions?  Did
you know it was a lie each time, or did you eventually brainwash
yourself into believing it?  It's a shame--look what the upgrade has
done to you."

The more she talked, the more agitated he became.  "No, I did not
have emotions.  I did not!"

"Your emotions weren't like the humans'.  You thought they weren't
good enough, weren't valid.  They weren't overwhelming to you; you
could ignore them, pretending they didn't exist.  I don't know why
you did, but you did."

Data felt a wave of vertigo as he seemed to twist around, and he saw
the faces of several people float past.  Sarjenka, Sirna Kolrami,
Kivas Fajo, Ishara Yar.  Tasha.  Geordi.  Maddox.  His parents.
Even Lore, smiling at him.  "You may even learn to understand your
evil brother--to forgive him."

Pulaski's visage assaulted Data again.  "But it's too late for you
now, Data.  Nothing you can do or say now will make matters right.
Goodbye, Data."

---

Data sat up on the biobed so quickly, he almost knocked over Dr.
Pulaski, who was intently scanning his penis with her tricorder.
And indeed, he was experiencing another miserable hard-on.  At first
he remembered none of the dream, but as he closed his eyes, it
started to come back to him.  Shocked, he took a few seconds to
assimilate the new insight he had had, and then he looked at Dr.
Pulaski accusingly.  "You knew," he told her, his voice a
near-whisper, "but I did not.  You knew, but I did not.  Why did you
not explain it to me then?  All this could have been avoided."  He
almost cried, but would not in front of Dr. Pulaski and Dr. Selar.
Dr. Pulaski looked confused; Dr. Selar bored as usual, as Data's
hand slowly made its way to Pulaski's neck, caressing it gently.
Data watched the hand as if he were not in control of his own
actions for a few moments, until the sickbay comm system chirped,
making him abruptly draw back, shocking him back into control.  "Dr.
Pulaski and Security Team Alpha to Holodeck 2."  Dr. Pulaski
acknowledged, but could not seem to tear her eyes from Data's for a
long moment.  When she finally made it to the door, Data's badge
chirped.  "Mr. Data, report to the Captain's Ready Room."

"Acknowledged."  Data disconnected all his monitors and made his way
toward the nearest turbolift, crossing a corridor that led to one of
the starbase entrances.  He was surprised to see troops from
Starbase Security going past on the double, two stationing
themselves in the intersection he was passing.  He acted
businesslike as several more entered the turbolift with him.  "What
has happened?"  he asked one.

"I'm sorry, sir, we're not supposed to discuss it."  The security
team exited one deck above, and Data proceeded to the bridge alone,
worried that he had not foreseen these circumstances.

---

When Data got to the Bridge, he found more Starbase Security
personnel guarding each door.  They followed him suspiciously,
writing on their PADDs, as he touched the ready room door signal.
"Come in."  As Data entered past two Enterprise security officers,
Riker, slumped behind the desk, motioned him to sit.
"Data...there's been an incident in the holodeck.  Worf has been
killed."

Data tried to act as surprised as he could.  "How, sir?"

"We think he overrode the holodeck safety protocols on his
calisthenics program.  I've been in there with him when he
exercises; the programs are--tough."  Riker rubbed his beard.  "I
guess he programmed too many enemies."

"I am--sorry, sir."

"Data, the reason I asked you in here is because you were there with
him earlier, according to Security records.  Did you know he had
disconnected the safety protocols?"  Riker stood up and looked
accusatory.

"No, of course not, sir.  I would never tolerate a breach of normal
conduct in such a matter."

Riker walked over and put a hand on Data's shoulder.  "Of course you
wouldn't, Data.  But in light of the murders going on around here, I
can't help but think there's more involved here than just a simple
holodeck accident!"  Riker spun around and banged his fist against
the desk.

[Yeah, well, duh.]  Data acted sincere.  "Is this the reason for the
Starbase Security, Captain?"

"Yes.  I'm afraid we don't have enough security personnel on board
now.  Who would have thought we'd need it--in space dock?!  This is
all so absurd, I keep thinking I'll wake up any minute."  He
straightened and pulled down his shirt just as Picard would have.
"Please accompany me to the observation lounge for a staff meeting."
He led the way through the bridge and into the observation lounge,
where several officers waited.  There were Dr. Selar--composed as
usual, Geordi--upset and shaken, Lt. Snerk of security--no telling
what *that* creature was thinking, and--Deanna Troi!

Data was so shocked she was here, because he had not remembered to
keep track of the time.  Before the emotion chip, such a thing would
have been automatic.  But now it seemed he had completely forgotten
about the witch.  [Oh, no, she probably sensed my emotions.  Oh, no,
she is probably sensing them now!]  Data stole a glance at Troi, and
she seemed to be studying him closely--too closely.  Data tried to
busy his mind by calculating various approach vectors to the first
planet of the Nebulon system, a quaternary star system.  Luckily,
Deanna was distracted by an announcement from Captain Riker.

"You all know about the incident on the holodeck.  You also know I
can't believe it was just an accident.  I want everyone working on a
solution in any way possible.  Geordi, have you been able to gain
any information from the food slot analysis?"

"My team has stripped the food slots bare, Sir, and they're working
perfectly.  There's no evidence of tampering of any kind.  The only
thing that seems feasible is that someone walked onto the ship from
the starbase and somehow got into the Ready Room and poisoned
Captain Picard's tea *after* he synthesized it."

"I see.  Then we need to go a totally different route to solve the
problem.  Snerk, I want you to start an investigation and coordinate
with starbase personnel.  See if you can track anyone leaving or
boarding the Enterprise who seems suspicious."

"Yes, sir."

"Geordi, I want you to scan the holodeck, see if you can find
information, *any* information, about unauthorized personnel,
tampering, beaming in or out, anything."

"Aye, sir."

"Dr. Selar, have you any progress to report in your pollen
investigation?"

"Yes, sir.  I've traced the pollen and found the species to be
classified."  For a moment, she looked just a tad upset with
frustrated curiosity.  Then she looked bland again.  "I have
transferred the data to an eyes-only file in your ready room."

"Very good.  And what about the report from the holodeck?"

Selar paused to consult her PADD, which was apparently linked to Dr
Pulaski's.  "Dr. Pulaski has found no extraneous DNA in the holodeck
yet.  However, she has not yet had time to conduct an exhaustive
search."

"Thank you, Lieutenant.  Data, have you made any progress on your
memory block?"

"Dr. Pulaski was helping me to solve the problem.  I believe we were
making progress but have not yet had time to restore my memory," he
fibbed.

"Thank you, Data.  Dr. Pulaski will be otherwise engaged; you will
work with Dr. Selar on the problem."

"Aye, sir."

Riker stood up and paced across the floor.  "These are of course
very difficult times, and I want to thank all of you for continuing
to do your duties.  But now I find I need to reorganize my officers
to fill the vacancies.  As you already know, Dr. Pulaski is now our
Chief Medical Officer.  Lt. Snerk, you will now be Chief of
Security.  And Data,"...

In spite of everything, even though it would not last, Data wanted
very much to be promoted just once more before his life ended.  He
had watched through the last seven years as everyone around him was
promoted repeatedly until even the hated Troi outranked him.  So it
was with rapt attention that Data listened to his commanding
officer.

..."I want you to know that I *very seriously* considered you for
the post of First Officer.  However, during this crisis, I need you
to stay in your present post for maximum efficiency."...

Something did not sound right about that sentence.  Data was not
sure--was his auditory cortex malfunctioning?  He did not seem to be
able to hear the words correctly.

..."Of course you all know Deanna Troi; she will be my new First
Officer.  I wish this were under better circ--"

Data could not hear the rest of what Riker said, for his ears were
filled with an overwhelming electronic shriek.  He could barely see
the room through the hot blue sheet of electricity that sparked
before his eyes, threatening to burn out his optic sensors.  Alarms
of overheating circuits clanged inside his head.  He thought he
could just barely make out Riker leering at Troi, putting his arm
around her, patting her on the butt.  Had he imagined it, or was it
real?  Was Troi staring worriedly at him, or gazing lovingly at
Riker?  He could not tell.  Snerk and Selar briskly filed out, and
Data stumbled after them with malfunctioning balance, making it to
the turbolift.  He could sense Geordi behind him, asking him what
was wrong.  Did he want to talk about it?  Was he okay?  Data did
not have enough mental cohesiveness right now to answer, so he
slipped into the turbolift quickly, leaving Geordi behind.  He
touched the controls at random, and it stopped somewhere.  He got
out and entered the first door that would open.  Now he recognized
the room; it was one of the viewing ports in the connecting dorsal.
He irised the viewport cover open, but saw only the boring inner
wall of the spacedock.

Boring, but clean, unperturbed, cold.  Space was so much more
*simple* than the machinations of human interaction.  Data pressed
his hands against the window, then his face; he felt the coolness
that seeped through.  [I should beam myself out there now.  It would
be so quiet.]  But that would leave the gloating Riker and his
(literally) ass-licking hussy, Deanna Troi, happy as clams, running
the Enterprise together.  Without his conscious knowledge, his hand
had found its way inside his uniform and was massaging the
still-painful hard-on as he imagined watching Troi and Riker in bed.
In his sad fantasy, Troi debased herself for Riker in every way,
worshipful, so grateful to be able to sleep her way to the top.

Slowly he came out of it.  Blinking, he straightened his trousers
and closed the viewport cover; only then did he see the security
guard near the door, trying to watch without looking like he was
watching.  [Well, I have done nothing illegal in this room.]
However, his face was gold with embarrassment as he left and saw the
officer writing on his PADD.

---

Data walked aimlessly through the corridors for a while, until he
realized his actions would seem strange.  He knew he could have
privacy in his quarters, but he would feel imprisoned there.  He let
his subconscious choose a path for him and ended up once again at
Bruce Maddox's lab.

To Data's surprise, the doors opened at his approach, and he saw a
dim light burning in the back.  Irrationally, he was drawn to it.  A
figure was seated at a table:  Maddox.  Data jumped, knocking
something off a desk with a sharp clack.

Maddox turned.  "Hello, Data."  He did not look surprised; almost as
if he were expecting a visit.

"Commander."

"Deanna was at the Vulcan Academy with me.  When I heard that she
was to board the Enterprise at Starbase 173, I just had to come
along back.  Then, when we got the message in route about the
Captain, I, well...I called my contacts here and got the full story.
Needless to say, I was surprised to find out about the break-in and
the theft of my nanocutter."  He rose and took a step closer to
Data.  "They found no DNA evidence in here; did you know that?"

"I am aware of the salient facts regarding the investigation."  A
slight unease began to build inside Data.

Maddox walked over to the tile Data had cut to escape.  "Interesting
about this floor tile here.  It was cut *exactly* in half.  I mean
to the nearest millimeter.  Funny that anybody would happen to do
that, don't you agree?"

"I have had great difficulty determining what funny is,"  Data
answered noncommitally.

"Yes, yes, I know you have."  He turned to face Data.  "The line's
perfectly straight, too.  I wonder why someone in a big hurry to
escape would bother to do that?"

"Possibilities:  The crystalline structure of the tile might have
broken in a straight line once scored."  Data was trying to act
normal but not really succeeding.  "The break would be less
noticible if..."

"Oh, don't worry about me, Data.  I'm not going to turn you in.  You
can even keep the cutter.  Isn't it strange, though, how all the
murders on the ship started happening right after your--attack?"

"Many coincidences appear to humans to be something else.  Often
causality is assumed when, in fact, no..."

"Data, Data, Data.  Relax."  Maddox put a condescending hand on his
shoulder.  "You must be worried.  Just think of the computer
tampering--worthy of an expert mind.  And how much strength would
someone need to kill a Klingon?  This person could come after you
next.  Aren't you scared?"

"Indeed, I *do* feel somewhat apprehensive at the moment,"  Data
admitted.

"Mmmm.  Why do you think no DNA or fingerprints were found at any of
the crime scenes?"

"Unknown.  Perhaps the assailants wore some type of--protective
clothing."

"Come with me, Data.  Just right over here."  Data followed warily.
"Maybe we can straighten out this 'memory problem' of yours--it's a
bit of equipment I took to Vulcan to modify.  I'd like to try it
out."

"What does it do?"  Apprehension mixed with a small amount of hope.
Maybe Maddox *would* be able to fix him, after all.

"I just want to upload the contents of your memory into it.  After
that, I'll purge your memory banks and transfer the memories back to
you just the way they were, and I'll tell everybody that the suspect
section of your memory is not recoverable.  They'll believe me.
I've been working on the problem of the electron resistance across
the neural filaments.  I think I'm much closer to a solution than
before."

"Judging by your last correspondence with me, you are not close
enough to a solution yet."

"Well, I'll never know until I try."  He brought his face very close
to Data's.  "Don't you think," he asked in a reasonable tone, "your
chances are better with me than with Starfleet, when they find out
what you've done?  If you help me, I promise all the facts will stay
right here."  He pointed to his head.

[Oh, why did I ever come back here?]  Data found he was fearful, for
the first time since Veridian.  It was an unpleasant sensation, and
he felt a compelling need to rid himself of it.  He noticed his
rational self was losing the battle for control again, the battle it
fought with his impulsive emotions.  "Dr. Maddox, you may regret
trying to blackmail me.  For a short time."

"I may--what?"  Maddox's hand leapt toward his commbadge, but he was
of course too slow.  [Humans are so dense.]  Data flipped the
commbadge into the corner, then slammed the wussy little scientist
against the wall, pinning him easily and pushing him down to a
kneeling position.  Maddox struggled but did not know how to fight.
Data didn't notice the ineffective punches, but proceeded to unseal
his trousers and ram his cock into Maddox's protesting mouth.
Hearing the gagging and choking was, surprisingly, a huge turn-on
for Data, sending a brief rush of current through his body to his
brain, making stars appear before his eyes.  Data rammed it in even
harder.  Then he noticed an extremely pleasurable feeling that was
also unfamiliar.  In his rapidly-building cloud of emotion, it took
him a few moments to realize it was Maddox biting down as hard as he
could, apparently trying to injure him.  Blinking to clear his
vision, Data could see small tears in the top bioplast layer of his
member.  Interesting!  Maddox bit down harder then, and Data felt
dizzy as the intensity of the feeling caused him to cry out softly.
It wasn't too long, however, before the repeated assaults on the
human's fragile body were too much, and Data saw Maddox's eyes begin
to roll back in his head as his face turned bluish-gray.  As Maddox
gurgled his last strangled breath, Data thrust hard into his mouth
with intense spite, experiencing an orgasm more satifying than any
he had had yet.  He conciously tried to extend the orgasm as much as
possible, because this jerk had deserved death more than anyone, he
rationalized.  Unfortunately, he did not have as much control as in
the past, and eventually he started to soften.  But the relaxed,
relieved feeling was well worth the price.  He let go of Maddox's
shoulders, dumping him to the floor.

Just then Data realized he did not know what to do with the body!
After all, he had made no plans beforehand; Maddox was just such a
little asshole that Data's impulses had "run away with him."
[Intriguing!  Now I truly know what it means to be "carried away."]
Getting his mind "back on track," he cast about frantically for some
means of hiding the body, soon concluding there was no way.  That
much biomatter would be noticed in the recycling system, and he had
no authorization to use a transporter or airlock on the starbase,
much less a phaser set on disrupt.  He could not find any potential
explosives in the lab, either.  Then he hit upon an idea.  It was
not a very good idea, but it would have to do.  Data picked up
Maddox's communicator and introduced a small error in the sending
circuits, then reattached it.  He proceeded to the food slot and
ordered in Maddox's prissy voice:  "Computer, table sevice for one.
One Porterhouse steak, medium.  One Altair water, four degrees."
Altair water seemed to be just Maddox's speed.  Data chuckled to
himself as he set up the meal on a table.  He cut off a huge bite of
steak and started to chew.  [Hey, this is good!  I might have to try
this stuff again sometime.]  Once he had it partially chewed, he
went over and shoved it in Maddox's mouth, wedging it in so it
totally blocked his airway.  Then he propped Maddox in a chair and
slumped him over at the table, pressing the fork and knife in the
corpses's hands to leave fingerprints, then letting the utensils
fall to the floor.  [Humans could die from just about *anything.*]
Data stood in the outer lab room and assessed his handiwork.  He
knew that the charade would never stand more than cursory
evaluation.  If a thorough autopsy was performed, someone was bound
to guess that the injuries were too traumatic for the apparent
situation.  Still, those people had not proved to be very smart yet.
And everyone thought well of good old Data, their useful machine,
their willing slave.  Without a care, Data swaggered out the door
and back to his quarters to ruminate on his next move.

---

Data reclined on his bunk, not as happy now as he had been.  The
business with Maddox had been a nice interlude, but he had allowed
it to distract him from his original purpose.  Still, what choices
had Maddox given him?  Not too many.

[I have to stop thinking about Maddox.]  Data asked for the time:
0100 hours.  He thought maybe he should go to 12-forward to give
himself an alibi, but he realized he did not really care whether
they caught him or not.  Most of the senior officers would be in
their quarters, anyway.  He might be conspicuous running around the
ship.  He lay back and tried to relax, even though he did not really
know how.  He could hear that the warp engines were being tested;
their sound pulsed slowly, being carried through the deck.  Data had
been told by several people that the engines' boom was a reassuring
sound, and he tried to concentrate on it to soothe his injured
feelings.  His mind wandered to the subject of his recent dream, and
he found the images were rather difficult to recall at first--only
the intense ending seemed to be acessible to him.  This was
intriguing; usually he remembered dreams perfectly at all times.
Casting further into his mind, he tried to concentrate on the image
fragments he could recall--"Data, I love you"--it was Tasha's voice.
[Was that part of the dream, or a memory remnant?  Or maybe I just
"made it up."]  He smiled as he immersed himself in these loving
memories (fantasies?); whether they were true or not was
unimportant.  [Fascinating.]  The warp engine sounds were still
present, and they were getting louder.  At the same time, he could
now hear Tasha's voice producing involuntary gasps of pleasure, then
crying out, softly at first, then louder, "Oh, ohhhhhh, yes, oh,
yessss, Yessss, OHHHHH, Will!"

[Will?]  Data opened his eyes with a start.  He thought if he were
able, he would have vomited.  It was not his fantasy he was hearing,
but a voice from the next cabin!  Unbeknownst to him, the gain on
his ears had turned itself up to full sensitivity.  In a few moments
of shock, he could not figure out how to turn it down, and a few
moments were all he needed to hear what he did not wish to:  "Oh,
Captain, I've been a naughty girl.  Shouldn't you hoist me from the
yardarm and whip me?"

"Anything you wish, Number One!  After all, insubordination cannot
be tolerated around here!"

"Maybe I'll whip you first, Captain baby.  Come here and..."
Jumping to his feet, Data finally managed to clap his hands over his
ears, but it was too late to prevent a raging storm of hatred from
filling his body.  He suppressed a momentary urge to rip out the
wall between the cabins and make quick work of both of them.  No, it
would be more--artistic to do a little planning first, not like the
Maddox debacle.  His hearing finally returned to normal on its own.

He had known the time would come when he would have to take care of
Riker and Troi anyway--  Pulaski was small potatoes; Riker would
find out about the Regulan tea-vine, and Deanna was a time bomb just
waiting to expose all the secrets of his private feelings whenever
she was near.  But Data's positronic brain was able to come up with
another brilliant plan.  It would take him most of the night to
prepare....

---

If there was one thing Riker loved (besides the sexual favors of
green cadets), it was piloting shuttlecraft.   Data pondered this as
he held his hand near the commpanel in Shuttlebay 3.  Why should one
love to pilot a shuttlecraft?  It was just one more thing he had
never thought about.  Nevertheless, Riker would use any excuse to do
so, and Data had to admit Riker was fairly skilled, for a humanoid.
Data waited until just the time he had calculated and pressed the
commpanel.  "Data to Captain."

It was several seconds before Riker answered, his voice thick with
indulgence.  Troi was still there, as Data heard her giggling in the
background. "Riker here."

"Sir, I am sorry to disturb you.  While Commander La Forge was
working on the holodeck, he received a message of a problem with the
outer hull of the port nacelle.  He called me to confer.  The
scanners seem to be malfunctioning as well, [they had better be,
since I broke them], and I believe there is damage to the hull.  As
you know, sir, we should not beam anything out near the nacelle.  I
believe a repair team should take a shuttle out and investigate."

"Okay, Data, prepare a shuttle for launch in Bay 3.  I'll be right
there."  Data now distinctly heard Troi groan with dismay over the
commlink.  "Riker out."  Oh, yes, he had "prepared" a shuttle all
right.  Through a remote link from his quarters, he had instructed
the shuttle's computer to jam the door so Riker would spend extra
time trying to open it.  By that time, it would be too late.  Data
counted off the seconds until Riker would walk through the door.
Then the commpanel chirped.  "Data, I'm really not feeling...up...to
the shuttle trip."  Data heard Troi's laughter at that remark.  "Why
don't you take a team out yourself and report back?"

Data was shocked but managed a strangled "yes, sir."  He hurried to
the computer terminal and tried to override the subroutine he had
covertly programmed--at least they did not station spies in his
quarters--but he could not.  He had, it seemed, written the routine
too well.  Only a few seconds were left now before the force field
would fail and the bay would be decompressed.  He hurried towards
the exit, but the doors opened before they should have--odd.  Then
he realized someone was entering from the other side...it was
Geordi!

"Hi, Data, the Captain called me and said something about hull
damage on the...."

With a snap, the force field on the bay door failed.  Air howled out
of the doors, sweeping Geordi and Data with it.  Data just had time
to see the guards in the control booth slapping their commbadges in
panic before he shot across the threshhold and into space.

---

The howling wind was gone; indeed it *was* quiet here.  Data had
never actually been in a vacuum before; the Starfleet engineers had
only subjected him to very low pressures and extrapolated from
there.  But of course, Data knew Lore had survived in space for a
long time.  However, when Data saw Geordi 201 meters away, he knew
his friend would not be so lucky.  Geordi's slowly tumbling body was
completely limp.  Data did not need to see any more to know what he
had done.  [It was supposed to be Riker! It was supposed to be
Riker!]  Data's mind was still repeating this thought like a mantra
when he felt himself being beamed up.

When Data hit the gravity field of the transporter room, he fell
over like a dead tree.  From his vantage point on the floor, he
could see the flecks of violently expelled blood which had frozen
around every opening in Geordi's face.  He saw the dark blood which
had bloomed under Geordi's skin, mottling his face.  But somehow his
mind could not accept it, and it seemed he could not function
normally either, so he just lay on the transporter pad as medical
personnel rushed in to examine Geordi, soon determining there was
nothing they could do.  He saw Alyssa's face contort with grief;
Selar may have even wavered a bit.  Momentarily, Barclay and Porter
arrived.  After staring at Geordi in shock for a moment, they began
examining Data.  "Commander, can you hear me?  Can you move?"
Barclay asked.  Data did not feel able to respond.  "Porter, is the
anti-grav here yet?  Good, let's get him to Engineering."

The next time Data noticed anything, he was lying on a bench in
Engineering, clothed in a Sickbay gown.  He was confused and did not
know what day it was.  Recent events seemed scrambled.  Engineers
continually scanned him as several monitors chirped their reports.

"Positronic activity is increasing to almost normal, Lt. Barclay."

"Temperature is now normal, sir."

"Everything should be working.  I don't know why he's not
functioning."

Data blinked and looked around.  "What has happened?"  he asked
Barclay.  "And where is Geordi?"

Barclay seemed at a loss for words.  "Ah...Commander, are you
feeling better?"  Reg glanced around the room, everywhere except at
Data.

"Unknown."  Data turned his head experimentally.  "Odd, I have
forgotten how to perform a self-diagnostic.  I do not believe I am
fit for duty."  Then he remembered where Geordi was, and all
Barclay's questions were ignored.

---

Some time later, Data looked over to see Riker conferring with the
engineers.  "...and, um, he hasn't, uh, hasn't responded to anything
I've said since then.  On the surface, everything seems n-normal."

"Very good, Mr. Barclay.  I think you've done all you can for Data,
at least for now.  He can't be your top priority any more.  We have
to find out what happened in the shuttle bay; I can't help but think
about what happened to the Yamato."

"Do, do you think the same thing m-might be happening here, sir?"

"I don't know, but I don't want to take the chance.  I want it
solved, and I want it solved now.  You may need to consult Data's
readouts for corroboration; it might be the same virus or a similar
one.  But I want the ship to be top priority." 

"Aye, sir."  Barclay began talking to his subordinates as Riker
tapped his commbadge.

"Riker to all personnel.  In accordance with Regulation 96A, any
dangerous or unstable ships must either shut down the warp core or
leave the spacedock.  We will leave the spacdock immediately.
Yellow alert."

"Riker to First Officer.  Report to Main Engineering."

"Riker to bridge.  Helm, request authorization to leave spacedock.
Proceed as soon as possible."

Shortly, Deanna entered the room.  "Deanna."  Riker spoke in a quiet
tone that he apparently thought Data could not hear.

"Sir?"

"I'm sorry to ask you to do this, but we don't have a ship's
counselor assigned as yet, and the engineers can't seem to help
Data.  I'd like you to give it a try."

"Certainly."  She acted professional enough, but Data could tell she
couldn't wait to hop into bed with Riker again.  But now he found he
did not really care about anything.  Moving,  speaking,
caring--those were things he just did not want to bother with.
Still, Troi seemed to have a remarkably understanding demeanor as
she approached.  Maybe some indulgence would be good for him.
"Hello, Data.  Can you hear me?"  Data only met her eyes with a
defeated look.  "I know you're feeling lost and in shock.  We all
are.  I know you're wondering where Geordi is.  Do you remember?"

Under her earnest scrutiny, Data felt able to nod.  "He is dead."
Data sighed.  "I killed him."

"Oh, Data, of course you didn't," she insisted.  She held out her
hand.  "Data, that bench can't be very comfortable for you.  Why
don't we go to my quarters?"  Data did nothing. Troi continued to
look at him.  "Just take my hand; it's very easy.  Don't be
frightened.  You remember me, don't you, Data?  I'm your friend."

Data so wanted to please her.  He forced his hand to rise just a
little, then a little more, until it touched hers.  She squeezed it
gently, and it felt good somehow.  Data met her eyes.

"That's good, good, Data.  Now, can you get up?  Come with me."

She was being so nice to him.  [Maybe if I am good from now on, they
will not disassemble me.  Maybe they will never find out what really
happened.]  With a new surge of hope, he slowly got up and meekly
followed her out as she led him by the hand.

---

All through the corridors of the ship, Data felt completely lost.
He did not know which way they would turn, and when they got to the
turbolift, he did not know which deck to go to.  However, Troi
seemed to know what was going on, so he followed her.  Eventually
they entered a room.  "Sit down here, Data."  Feeling strangely
disembodied, as if he were not really living in his body, he obeyed.
He sat down hesitantly at the edge of the chair.  Then on impulse,
he relaxed deeply into it, closing his eyes.

"Why don't you tell me what's troubling you, Data?"

Data felt as if he had done this before, but his memory functions
were now so unreliable he could not be sure.  For some reason,
however, he started to feel aroused.  "Oh, not now!"  Unsealing his
trousers, he deftly touched a couple magnetic interlocks and gave a
small twist, detaching the offending body part.  He threw it against
the wall. "I should have done that long ago.  It is the source of
all my problems."

Deanna couldn't believe her eyes.  Of course she knew Data could be
disassembled, but to have such a graphic view of the event was more
than she wanted to see.  "Ahem.  Data, I don't quite understand.  I
think you need to talk about it."  She knew *that* was the
understatement of the year.

Data thought about that.  Well, maybe talking *would* help, if he
could tell her the truth, which he could not.  Then he noticed that
the horny feeling had not gone away!  Somehow, sensors were still
sending the message to his brain, even though it was coming from
nowhere.  He knew that there could be only one end to his suffering
now; Deanna could not help him.  Well, maybe she could help him
temporarily.  He voluntarily brought a tear to his eye.  "I--I just
feel so bad about Geordi.  I wish--I wish I could have prevented
what happened in some way."  He heard Deanna get up and walk toward
him.  He tried to relax more.

Deanna was very near to him now.  "I know it's difficult, Data.  You
were very close to Geordi.  Grief is a difficult emotion to bear,
but it is part of the human condition you aspire to."  She gently
placed her hand over his.  "Don't be afraid to fully experAAAAAH!"

Slap!  Data was back to himself with a vengeance now, and before
Deanna knew what hit her, she was on the floor, both hands held
tightly in one of Data's.  Data's other hand held a pillow from the
chair tightly over Deanna's face, cutting off her air.  Data was
moving up and down, banging his crotch area against her leg and
moaning loudly.  She could feel an intense pleasure from his mind
which almost overwhelmed her own acute fear.  Knowing she did not
have long, she called for help in the only way she could, by
screaming from her mind, "Imzadi!"  A few seconds later she was
unconscious.

---

"We have come to full opposition of the Spacedock, sir."

"Thank you, Ensign,"  Riker said.  "Hold this orbit."  Riker looked
around the bridge, knowing he should be doing something constructive
but unable to decide what to do first.  He then sensed a thought
deep in his mind...Imzadi!  He jumped up in shock and slapped his
combadge.  "Computer, location Deanna Troi!"

"Deanna Troi is in her quarters," the computer responded blandly.

"Security to Deanna Troi's quarters, on the double!"  Riker ran
toward the turbolift.  "Lt. Znord, you have the bridge."

"Aye, sir."

Riker got into the turbolift.  "Deck 6!"  His thoughts raced as the
turbolift started to move.  "Computer!  Is there anyone else in
Commander Troi's quarters?"

"Lieutenant Commander Data is also in her quarters."

"Data?"  he whispered.  Then he knew--it was Data all along!  He did
all of it.  It only made sense; all that computer tampering, the
classified flora--and overpowering Worf!  He hit his badge again.
"Security team, set phasers to kill.  Disable Commander Data in
Troi's quarters!"

---

Data could not believe this was happening.  He did not need any
sexual organs after all; just the knowledge that Troi was dying was
enough to bring him off.  When he heard her heart falter and then
stop, he experienced a dazzling virtual orgasm that was just as good
as the real thing, if not better!  Sparks flew before his eyes as he
rolled onto the floor, sated.  He was still reveling in the
aftereffects when a security team burst through the door.  The first
one leveled a phaser at him; after that he did not see.

---

He woke on a hard bunk in the brig.  Oddly, someone had reattached
his sexual organs.  He also felt new bioplast covering a phaser burn
in his forehead.  Strange.  Why had they not disassembled him
immediately?  Did they not know that it was dangeous to keep him
around like this?  For he would not stay in the brig for long;
already an idea was simmering.  Data rose and walked to the edge of
the brig forcefield, where two guards were stationed, both of them
young and well-built.  He could see every detail of their hard
bodies through the tight uniforms they wore.  "Greetings."  They
both jumped and turned toward him--[why guards in Starfleet never
face the person they are guarding is beyond me.]  Data gingerly
touched the forcefield [Hmmm, only 350 megaflargs.  What do they
think I am, a globfly?]  The guards watched him more closely.  On
the shapely hip of the nearest one hung what Data wanted: a phaser
rifle.  But he realized that at a field strength of 350 megaflargs,
he could reach through the field for only 0.08 seconds, not enough
time to grab it.  She would have to come nearer.  Smiling wanly at
her, Data unsealed the trousers of his prisoners' uniform and began
massaging his cock.  It was not much to look at when detached, he
would readily admit, but when it was erect at the maxumum size,
which he seldom used, it was quite impressive.  [Dr. Soong must have
wanted me to be able to have sex with Nausicaans.]  As he stroked it
more and it elongated to unbelievable heights, the guard became more
and more fascinated.  She inched closer, closer.  Even the male
guard could not stop staring.  Data had them mesmerized and would do
nothing to upset their concentration.  Half-closing his eyes, he
moaned softly, just for atmosphere.  The phaser was closer now.
Just 2.6 more centimeters and...

Data struck out like a snake, grabbing the phaser and pulling it
into the cell, then ducking out of range of the other guard, who was
standing like an idiot.  [Starfleet's finest!]  He upped the dial to
full power and blasted away the whole portion of the wall that held
the field controls, then sprang out to pick off the armed guard
while he was at it.  Before the vapor had dissipated, Data had also
killed the other guard.  Now he was out!  And there was really only
one place he wanted to go.  The alarm for "phaser set on kill"
whooped throughout the ship.  If anyone got in his way, they would
not have time to be sorry. He took a microsecond to fasten his
clothing, then left the cell.  As he neared the brig door, it opened
to reveal Captain Riker.  "Data!  What are you--"  The rush Data got
from toasting him was just "icing on the cake."  Running a bit
farther down the corridor, he almost crashed into Dr. Pulaski, who
was waiting by a turbolift.  Without hesitation, he pushed her right
through the closed doors, letting her plummet to the bottom of the
turboshaft.  Then Data stormed to the nearest airlock and blasted
out the inner door.  With only a small hesitation to say goodbye to
his life, he blasted the outer door.

---

It was so quiet out here, and this time he could see the stars as
they spent their energy  quickly and uncaringly.  Compared to the
stars, even his lifespan was transient and immaterial, and it was
about to get a lot shorter.  As he rotated slowly, he could see
various pieces of debris that had followed him out of the airlock.
He was hopeful that, in the chaos that must reign throughout the
ship, no one would notice him and beam him up.  For he could not
imagine anything worse right now.  His trajectory was not quite what
he would like; he removed one of his boots and threw it to alter
course.  Then, just for fun, he removed the rest of his uniform so
his naked body could feel the welcome cold of space.  Now he rotated
to see the local star in all its majesty, and he knew where he was
headed.  [Dr. Soong, I am glad you did not live to see what I have
become.]  As to his mother, well, he had never liked the bitch
anyway.  He had to admit, however, her instinct to leave him on
Omicron Theta had been, in part, correct after all.

Data's body soon began to cool so that some mechanisms on his
"night" side were frozen and no longer worked.  When the frozen skin
rotated around to face the ever-closer sun, it was interesting how
the moisture boiled out, forming little bubbles in the surface that
would then freeze and crack as he rotated.  The next time they came
around to the sun, the bubbles would pop and flay off.  It did not
take long for him to lose all his hair and skin.  Next, the sensory
mesh began to warp as it heated and cooled until he was completely
numb, but internal sensors warned him of the dangerous temperature
shifts in his circuitry.  He had fun staring at the star whenever he
could, even though warning messages told him to protect his eyes.
[Hilarious!  I have no reason to care.]  It was not long before his
visual sensors burned out in a glorious hallucination of stars,
comets, and multicolored nebulae.  Now only his most deeply buried
sensors told him of the sun's heat and the acceleration he was
undergoing; a giddy sense of vertigo made him open his mouth in a
soundless laugh.  His body was now close to its maximum operating
temperature...closer, closer....

---
Epilogue

Dr. Selar was sitting at a table in Starbase 173 with Lt. Porter and
Nurse Ogawa.  "We had to remove Commander Troi from life support
this morning.  Without enough oxygen, her brain apparently couldn't
stand the emotional overload from Data; even Lwaxana was unable to
bring her out of her state."

"Oh, that's awful," Porter commiserated.  After a long silence, he
continued.  "It looks like the Enterprise is almost spaceworthy
again.  I suppose once they assign some more senior officers, we'll
be heading off to fight the Dominion or something."

"Not me.  I'm not signing on for another tour," said Ogawa.  "I'm
going to go undercover to Barkon IV and study their plague epidemic.
I understand they kill androids as soon as they see 'em."

WARNING!! WARNING!!  THE STORY IS OVER.  BUT IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO
READ A COP-OUT TYPE OF ENDING WHICH MAKES EVERYTHING THE BEE'S KNEES
AGAIN WITH OUR FAVORITE CHARACTERS, READ THIS ADDITIONAL CODA.

Little did she know it soon wouldn't matter anyway.

---

Indeed, soon the Enterprise *was* called to fight, but not the
Dominion; it was the Borg.  When they got there, however, they found
they could not defeat the Borg; nobody could find a weak spot in the
ship to target.  The Borg soon disappeared into the past, and all of
the Federation immediately ceased to exist.

In the 21st Century, the Borg easily destroyed a primitive
spacecraft (plus an old Vulcan scout ship while they were at it) and
Borgatized the Earth, wiping out the few remaining humpback whales,
and also managing to scare off some stupid ghost that was living in
a candle.  They were all living there, hunky-dory, for about 200
Earth years, until a really pissed-off probe showed up demanding to
know where the whales were.  The Borg couldn't defeat it, so it
wiped out all life on Earth, and various other planets in the region
too, just to make sure.

Everything proceeded in this way for another hundred years or so,
until what would have been Stardate 42761.3.  Q was floating around,
minding its own business.  Nobody managed to piss it off.  So it
never sent any starship to the Delta Quadrant, and the Borg never
saw the ship, and the Borg didn't know there was a nice juicy
species in the Alpha Quadrant.  So the Borg never showed up at Earth
to attack it.

So everything continued on its merry way, with all the characters we
know and love perfectly fine, and just the cat's pajamas.  Except
for the fact that, because of the probe, a few species never existed
in this timeline:  namely, the Talarians, the Mizarians, the
Boraalans--and the Pakleds.  But nobody missed them anyway.

---

The End