The BLTS Archive - Change
by Jane Seaton <skazki@globalnet.co.uk>

---

Dedication: This story is dedicated to Teegar Taylor, whose invention
of Nicky was a triumph of fan over canon.

Disclaimer: Paramount own all the ships and characters except the
aforementioned Nicky.

---

Lieutenant Commander Data hesitated in the doorway, taking in the
layout of the bar and the disposition of its clientele. There were one
or two couples, concentrating deeply on each other. Two lone men sat
on stools at the bar, while three others were at tables. None showed
any awareness of the new arrival. There were no unaccompanied women
present.

The bar bore more than a superficial resemblance to the dives in
Captain Picard's Dixon Hill programs, Data decided. He would best fit
in as a lone depressive. Such people spoke to the bar keeper, but not
to anyone else, unless roused to argue by a passing stranger jostling
their chair or spilling their drink.

He slouched over to the bar.

It was minded by a woman who was polishing glasses. She watched him
every step of the way.

"Are you a... what are you?"

"I am an android."

"Oh."

"Do you refuse to serve androids?" Data inquired. Racial prejudice
would be interesting. Perhaps the now solitary customers would unite
in upholding his right to drink, or in throwing him out.

"Don't know. Never been asked."

Data was disappointed. He revised his plan yet again. "Then I will
have a whisky sour, please."

"You got credit?" the woman asked suspiciously.

"Yes."

"And whisky won't... make you do anything funny?"

"Alcohol has no effect on my metabolism whatsoever."

"That's okay then." She mixed the cocktail without any of the
flourishes Data had anticipated and placed it on the tiled bar top.
"Fifteen centi-creds."

He handed over his credit chip and tried again. "Do you ask these
questions of all your customers," he asked, "or only of androids?"

She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, and Data quickly scanned the
poster pinned to the wall behind her. It was a recognition chart,
listing and illustrating various common species, and highlighting
contra-indicated refreshments. Data was interested to learn that
flavoured, 'carbonated' water was strongly discouraged for Tellerites,
while Andorians should avoid the products of bovine lactation. There
was a surprisingly long list of beverages not advised for humans, some
of which he knew his friends on the Enterprise particularly liked.

"If you're not on there," the bartender was saying, "I'm supposed to
ask, and tell you it's your risk."

"I will accept the risk, but I have consumed whisky before. You need
not be concerned. It will not affect me adversely."

"Why d'you drink it, then?" she asked, picking up another already
sparkling glass, and twisting it in a linen towel.

"I do not wish to look out of place," Data explained. "Thank you."

He carried the glass over towards a central table. Sitting there, he
would be able to observe everyone else in the room, and listen to
their conversations, should they speak.

For nearly twenty minutes, no one spoke.

Data was not idle. He studied each of his fellow customers in turn,
modelling his posture on one, his breathing on another, the timing of
each sip from his glass on yet a third.

Geordi would be impressed, he decided. He would suggest that they
spend this evening drinking in Ten Forward. He would not tell the
engineer about his studies. He would instead wait to see if Geordi
noticed for himself just how human Data could be.

A glass and its ice cold contents landed in Data's lap. He stood.
"Kindly watch what you are bloody doing," he said.

The individual who had tripped over the leg of Data's chair picked
himself up off the faded green carpet.

"I'm sorry," the man said. "I have damaged the servo control in my
left ankle."

His voice was slurred. The skin at the left corner of his mouth was
torn, and there were microcircuits clearly visible under the frayed
membrane.

"You are an android," Data said.

"Why do you say that? Of course I am not an android. I simply have a
prosthetic..." The stranger gestured helplessly at the visible injury.
"...face, the result of an accident. I was burnt as a small child. My
parents were both killed. It was horrible. I prefer not to talk about
it."

"Then we will not," Data agreed obligingly. "What would you like to
talk about?"

A look of near panic passed over the other's face. "Nothing. I did not
come in here to talk. I needed somewhere quiet and secluded to repair
my ankle."

"Perhaps I can help you?" Data offered.

"No!" The android scowled at him and limped into the darkest corner of
the bar.

The bar tender walked past a moment later with another glass. Data
caught her arm, stopping her.

"Who is that android?"

"What is this? A fund raising stunt? Are you a student or something?"

"No..."

"'Cos Nicky isn't an android. Believe me, I know."

"How do you know?"

She put the full glass down on the table while she picked the empty
one off the floor. She straightened up, smiling. "Call it... a woman's
intuition."

"He is damaged and you can see the circuitry," Data tried to explain.

She gave him a hard look. "That's the last drink you're getting in
here. Finish it and leave."

---

That evening, Geordi was unimpressed with Data's newly acquired
skills. After ten minutes he announced that if Data was going to sulk,
he was leaving.

Data maintained his planned subroutine for another forty seven
minutes, but no one else appeared to notice. He returned to the bar on
the planet below to further hone his performance. It was more crowded
now, but the clientele were still showing a disinclination to
socialise.

"Is Nicky here?" he asked the evening shift 'tender, a middle aged man
in a crumpled white shirt, worn open at the neck, a bow tie dangling,
unfastened, from either side of his collar.

"Nicky? No."

"He was here this morning."

"If you say so. What do you want to drink, guy?"

"Make mine a Bud."

The 'tender gave him a half-hearted smile. "Sure thing, pal."

The beer glass, clouding rapidly in the warm air of the bar, was
slippery in Data's grasp. He altered the parameters of his skin
texture to compensate and carried it carefully to his chosen table. As
he sat down, he realised he recognised the man seated a metre or so
away.

Data stood up again, and moved to the occupied table. "Mind if I join
you, partner?"

Nicky looked up. "You again."

"Yes. May I sit down?"

"We have an old Russian saying, it is better to drink alone than chop
wood with a blunt axe," the android said.

Data construed the proverb as meaningless and sat down anyway. "You
have repaired your dermal membrane. Is your..."

"Why will you not leave me alone?" Nicky suddenly hissed. "Are you
with Starfleet Intelligence?"

"No. I am Lieutenant Commander Data, currently assigned to the USS
Enterprise..."

"What?" The android glared at him.

"The Enterprise. We have shore leave here on Parmalat Seven, and I am
engaged in a study of humanoid drinking behaviour..."

"What exactly are you? You sound Vulcan, but..."

"I am an android. Like yourself."

Nicky did not immediately respond. For a few moments, both he and Data
simply sat at the table, then Data picked up his glass and took a
nonchalant sip.

"How did Intelligence track me here? I thought I had lost them on Risa
six months ago."

"I know nothing about that. I am not connected with Intelligence. I am
not looking for you. If you remember, you initiated our interaction."

"Then why are you interested in me?" The android's strongly accented
voice was still hostile.

"I am interested because I have never before met another android. I
thought I was unique."

Data realised Nicky was actually looking at him for the first time.
"You are not very realistic..." he said bluntly.

"I am not intended to be. My creator, Kahn Noonian Singh, did not wish
me to be mistaken for a human. Who created you?"

Nicky merely shook his head. "The others. I have not heard of this
Kahn Noonian Singh. Has Starfleet arrested him?"

"Why should Starfleet arrest Doctor Singh?" Data tried out a frown.
The other android's facial expressions were, he suspected, much more
natural than his own, but copying them was no easier than copying a
human. Perhaps, he decided, Nicky could be persuaded to supply him
with the code for some of his subroutines. "And who are *the others*?"

Nicky sighed. "I was created by other androids. And do not ask me who
created the other androids. They never told me. Perhaps they did not
know. Starfleet would arrest Singh to prevent him building more
androids. Since the incidents with Harcourt Fenton Mudd, and Roger
Korby, androids have been unpopular with Starfleet."

Data located the names in his historical files. "Yes. Criminals
encountered by the original Enterprise. One attempted to take over the
Enterprise, leaving her crew stranded on a remote planet, the other
attempted to use androids to impersonate her crew. But neither was
successful. And you are not referring to recent events."

Nicky shrugged. "But Starfleet still does not like androids."

Data sat up a little straighter in his chair. "I have been in
Starfleet for twenty seven years. I graduated from the Academy with
honors, and have been promoted from Ensign to Lieutenant Commander. I
am currently third in command of the Enterprise."

Nicky smiled at him, a very natural smile which Data instantly coveted
for himself. "Twenty seven years to rise from ensign to lieutenant
commander? You see? Even Pasha did better than that."

"There was some resistance to using me in roles that were not purely
technical and scientific," Data confided earnestly, "but I believe
Captain Picard is satisfied that I have earned my place in the chain
of command."

"Congratulations," Nicky said dryly.

There was another lengthy silence. Data glanced around the room.
Similar lengthy silences appeared to be happening at various tables.

"Who is 'Pasha'?"

Nicky grunted into his vodka.

"Have you repaired your ankle?" Data asked, judging this to be a
appropriate question at this point. Although why he was trying to have
a human-style conversation with an android, he didn't know. Presumably
they should both just flip open their access panels and utilise an
infra-red transfer stream. Data considered suggesting it, but decided
it might alarm the human occupants of the bar.

"Why do you imagine I am still hanging around in this dump?" Nicky
asked irritably. "I need to obtain titanium alloy to manufacture a
component, and the material is subject to government quotas on
Parmalat Seven. It is virtually unobtainable."

"How much do you require?"

Nicky looked at him suspiciously. Data instantly mirrored the
expression.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Nicky demanded. "It is most
infuriating."

"I apologise. I did not intend to offend you." Nicky was still
frowning at him, so Data continued: "Your facial expressions and
physical mannerisms are far more sophisticated that mine. I am
interested in your programming. Do you have positronic systems..."

"Yes. And I also have titanium joints, one of which is crushed. I need
approximately eleven point three two grams of high grade titanium
boron alloy..."

"I can give you that much. How will you manufacture the component?"

Nicky's face was now a study in warring hope and paranoia. He
hesitated, and then answered in a careful whisper. "I have found an
engineer who will do the work for me if I provide the alloy. And of
course, he will require extra payment because of the quota problem."

"How will you pay him?" Data couldn't help being curious. As a
Starfleet officer, he received a salary which he used to mainly as raw
material for research into investment strategies. It would be
fascinating to know how another android approached the question of
earning a living.

"I'm... adaptable," Nicky said. "I survive." He shrugged the question
off. "Which brings us to the next question, no? What do you want in
return for the alloy?"

"It is not a large amount," Data said. "I cannot supply you from
ship's stores, but I believe I have several personal artefacts in my
cabin which could yield that amount of alloy."

"For a price," Nicky said. He was watching Data as if the android
might suddenly bite him.

"I will give it to you."

Nicky pushed his glass into the centre of the table and stood up,
obviously intending to leave.

"I mean it."

He turned back to Data. "Why? Why would you help me?"

"Why not?"

---

Aboard the Enterprise, the corridors were quiet. Data kept careful
pace with Nicky, allowing for the other android's quite pronounced
limp.

"It appears to be painful," he said eventually.

Nicky didn't look at him. "It is."

"When I am damaged, my self-diagnostic circuitry alerts me, but I do
not experience pain."

The other android stopped. "You have been damaged? You're not
indestructible?"

"No." Data tried to interpret Nicky's suddenly expressionless face. "I
am not indestructible."

"Good evening, Data."

Data glanced up along the corridor. Captain Picard had just exited a
turbolift and was looking curiously at him and his companion.

He beckoned Nicky forward. "Captain, this is..."

"Chekov, Nikolai Andreievich," the android said briskly, sparing Data
the embarrassment of admitting that he had brought an unnamed visitor
aboard.

Picard smiled broadly and extended a hand. "Jean Luc Picard. You must
be related to Admiral Chekov. The resemblance is... unmistakable."

"My great uncle." Nicky's smile was wary. "He would have been... very
impressed by your beautiful ship, Captain Picard."

Picard frowned a little, as if he'd noticed something amiss. "The
credit for that lies with her designers, Mister Chekov. Data, if your
visitor would like to see the bridge, go ahead. I'd be pleased to give
you a tour myself, but I have a meeting scheduled with Admiral Harding
two minutes ago. Please excuse me."

"Of course, Captain," Data said evenly. He turned back to Nicky. The
android had gone strangely pale.

"Is something wrong?"

"It is so embarrassing. I am ninety five years old, and still I start
to sweat at the thought of talking to a starship captain."

"You lied about your relationship to Admiral Chekov."

"That is also so embarrassing. I have been practising lying for at
least ninety years, and still I can't do it. No, the admiral was not
my great uncle. Or any other kind of uncle."

Data examined his visitor for signs of 'sweat', but was disappointed.
The android's skin was a dry 37 degrees Celsius. Data beckoned his
visitor to follow him. "I believe Captain Picard did suspect that you
were lying, but I was not alerted by any behavioural clues. It is well
known that Admiral Chekov had no siblings, nor did he marry, and hence
you cannot be a nephew."

"You seem to know a great deal about the admiral," Nicky complained.
"Are you sure you are not part of Starfleet Intelligence?"

"I have a complete databank of Federation history, which includes
records of starship missions and personal logs of senior officers.
Everyone knows that the admiral was an only child. The incident in
which the crew of the Enterprise made peace with a Klingon boarding
party is famous."

"Really?"

Data cocked his head. Nicky's tone was deeply sarcastic. "Certainly.
And the admiral's book, Time for Change, a critical study of what came
to be known as the 'Hollywood' style of command, is a required text at
the Academy. If you will allow me to quote..."

"Please, do not trouble yourself. Pasha... my uncle is no Leo
Tolstoy."

"He is also deceased." Data waited for a reaction. He always felt he
got death wrong. He could do silence as well as anyone, but when a
remark of some kind was expected, he always hit the wrong note.

"Yes. I realised that when they closed all our bank accounts."

It was, perhaps, Data thought, a universal android failing.

He touched the control panel to his cabin door and stood aside. Nicky
brushed past him and entered the large room. He whistled softly. "This
is not like the old Enterprise..."

"The 'D' has the most generous allocation of accommodation space of
any ship in the fleet."

"And you are third in command." Nicky had wandered over to the easel,
where an unfinished study in red was on display. He poked at the
brushes and rags. "You did this?"

"I have no need for sleep, but Captain Picard does not permit me to
routinely work more than eight hour shifts. I have many... hobbies."

"Like sitting in bars not getting drunk?"

"I was studying..."

"Humanoid behaviour, yes. You said. Then I am another 'hobby'?"

Data considered. "No. I think you are a waif or stray, a good cause."

Nicky flopped into a chair and looked at Data from under disorderly
bangs of brown hair. "Yes. I'm very good at that."

"Can I offer you something to drink?"

"Vodka, please. Very cold, no ice."

The drink arrived in its frosted glass and Data carried it over to his
visitor. "It won't make you... do anything funny?"

Nicky reached out for it, but Data held it back. "One vodka will not
make me do anything even remotely amusing, I promise."

Data gave it to him wordlessly. He watched as his android visitor
drank. Nicky's movements were, as ever, flawlessly human. He tossed
the whole of the drink back then relaxed, leaning back in the chair.
He looked up at Data, considering his host just as he himself was
considered.

"What *is* your relationship to Admiral Chekov? The Captain was
correct. There is a strong resemblance."

"I am an android. What possible relationship could there be?"

Data took a seat himself. "You could be a copy. The androids who held
him prisoner made an exact copy of Mudd's wife, Stella..."

"They made several." A look compounded of amusement and regret
flickered across Nicky's face. "She was not so bad. I think..."

"What do you think?"

"They had no children. And Harry Mudd escaped, quite soon. I think she
missed him, although I do not blame him for leaving. I left myself at
the first opportunity."

Data requested a lemonade, for politeness sake; he had noticed that
visitors who didn't know him too well were more comfortable if he had
a drink too, and Nicky appeared to be lapsing into unwelcome silence.

"Am I correct in deducing that you originated on the planet where
Harry Mudd was held prisoner by the androids?"

Nicky looked up at him and gave a little nod.

"And that your programming, your personality, as well as your
appearance, are based on those of Pavel Andreievich Chekov, then an
ensign, but later an admiral?"

Again, a nod, then a sudden shake of the head. "No, that does not
quite... when I was created, I *was* Pavel Andreievich. I quickly
realised that impression was mistaken, but I had all his memories,
his... sense of himself. I still do."

Data instructed his face to give its best frown.

"And in the seventy five years since then, he has become an admiral,
while you have done... what?"

Nicky closed his eyes. "Evaded Starfleet Intelligence. They have not
been so persistent in pursuing me for the last forty or so years, but
at first, it required a great deal of ingenuity to avoid detection and
capture."

Data waited, but that seemed to be it.

"Would you say that your intelligence, and education are..."

"The same as his? No. I am much more efficient at accumulating and
processing data. My benchmark processing speed is in excess of 60
Gigaherz."

Data was surprised, which is to say the figure was well outside his
expectations. He had assumed that an older android than himself would
be slower, but since their origins were unrelated, the assumption had
been flawed. He decided to test the rest of his preconceptions about
androids, before Nicky surprised him in a manner that might be
dangerous.

"How strong are you?"

Nicky clenched his hand on the empty glass and a fine powder trickled
out onto Data's carpet.

"Then how were you damaged?"

"I have a shielding system coterminous with my epidermis. I switched
it off. I reset it, but I was damaged before I realised just what it
means to be... vulnerable..."

"How exactly did the damage occur?"

Nicky became diffident. "An accident." Then he relented. "I was used
to being indestructible. I was careless."

He touched his fingers to the side of his face, now flawless again.
"It hurt. It was a horrible surprise. I suppose I was always able to
feel pain, but I had never suffered any injury before."

Data recognised the look in Nicky's eyes now, the bewilderment of a
young officer caught up in a battle for the first time, hurt
themselves or seeing their colleagues going down.

"It was not... supposed to happen," Nicky said softly, as if to
himself.

It was the standard reaction of youth to adult unpleasantness.

Data changed tack. "If you can feel pain, can you also experience
pleasure?"

His visitor didn't respond with much interest. "All pleasures become
very similar after a few years."

"What pleasures are you referring to? Alcohol..."

"A necessity, not a pleasure."

Data raised an eyebrow. An alcoholic android? Perhaps he should be
grateful that his system was not responsive to the substance.

"Food..."

Nicky shrugged.

"Sex?"

The response was a grimace. "The immediate cause of my injury was a
jealous boyfriend."

Data pulled another chair over and sat down, face to face with his
visitor. "You can experience... sexual pleasure?"

"Of course." Nicky gestured at his face. "Or why bother?" Then he
seemed to see something in Data's face. "Can't you?"

"I have had sexual intercourse with a woman. I believe she found it
pleasurable, but I did not."

"Then why did you do it?" Nicky asked.

"She wished it, and I was curious. Once we had started, it seemed
impolite to finish before she was ready."

Nicky nodded sympathetically. "Some of them take a very long time..."

"Lieutenant Yar was most responsive." Data stopped. He did not
understand the human preference for discretion in sexual matters, but
he knew perfectly well where the boundaries lay. "I mean... I found
her company, and the novelty of our physical interaction...
stimulating."

"But..."

"Intellectually stimulating."

Nicky allowed his gaze to wander around the room. "I understand why
you need these... hobbies."

"They are a means of exploring my potential, of growing in
understanding of myself and others. My ambition..."

"Yes?" Nicky upended his glass and drained the dregs of the vodka. He
looked at Data, waiting. His expression was casual, but Data could
detect considerable muscular tension in the other's neck and hands.

"...is to become human."

"I do not advise it."

Data was taken aback by Nicky's flat reaction. He was used to
surprise, or mockery, or sentimental references to 'Pinocchio', but
not this.

"Why not?"

"I have done it. As I said, when the others made me, they... well, I
don't know exactly what they did, but I remember waking up, still
thinking that I was human. I had all Pasha's memories. I knew in
detail what it is like to be human. I would not go back to that for
anything."

"Because of pain?"

"Pain? Pain is not that important. It never lasts for more than a few
minutes before some patronising, over-qualified, sarcastic..."

Data frowned. "You don't like doctors?"

Nicky shook his head. "Believe me, you should not worry too much about
pain, not for humans. But embarrassment... Have you ever experienced
embarrassment? Have you ever... No, probably not..."

"What?" Data quizzed his visitor intensely.

"I suspect the answer is no, but have you ever experienced premature
ejaculation? With a woman who then tells all her friends? Who include
all your friends?"

"You are correct. The answer is no." Data paused for a moment, trying
to identify a comparable experience. "I have occasionally been the
subject of anecdotes."

Nicky grimaced sympathetically. "But that is nothing. Have you ever
made a mistake, while everyone around you, people who claim to be your
friends and colleagues, allow you to make it, and laugh at you?"

"No," Data confirmed bewilderedly.

Nicky sniffed at his empty glass. "Whatever, I am no longer vulnerable
to sexual humiliation." He sat straight. "I *know* I am the perfect
lover."

There was a considerable period silence as Data assimilated Nicky's
remarks.

"But..."

The other android looked up at him. "Is there any more of this vodka?
It is not too bad."

Data took the glass from him and went to refill it.

"Being a perfect lover is a traditional human aspiration, and fleeing
from Starfleet Intelligence must be a time consuming occupation,
but... what else are you? You are invulnerable, and you have at least
the potential to be a senior Starfleet officer, as Pavel Andreievich
Chekov has demonstrated. Since you are already a perfect lover, what
do you intend to do next?"

"Why do you want to know?" Nicky demanded, accepting the glass.

"You have already achieved my own ambition, and found it undesirable.
If I was to abandon that goal, I do not know what I would do."

"You do not seem to be working towards it currently," Nicky pointed
out. "You should be in a cyborg research unit, or..."

"There is more to humanity than the physical. I do not seek to give up
the advantages of being an android..."

"But you want sex and alcohol too?" Nicky took the vodka in a single
swallow. "That, my friend, sounds perfectly reasonable to me." He
fumbled the glass, letting it drop onto the floor. It occurred to Data
to wonder just how much Nicky had already drunk before they met in the
bar.

"Why did you want to be vulnerable?"

"I didn't say..."

"You turned off your shielding. Why else..."

"I wasn't expecting to be attacked by a Neanderthal."

"Then what were you expecting?"

"I don't know. Something different. That was what I wanted, something
different. I just assumed... that different would be pleasant. Well, I
was wrong. It happens. So what?"

"Nicky..."

The other turned his face up from his attempt to recover the vodka
glass, which had rolled under his chair. "Yes?"

"Can I..."

"What?"

"You can feel emotions, and physical sensations... I can experience
physical sensation, but not intimately... I..."

"You, my friend, are a tricorder in the shape of a man."

"Perhaps."

"What do you want from me?"

Data blinked. Nicky sounded so tired, so... bored.

"I believe we could... contrive a data link between our processing
units, so that I could... experience..."

Nicky looked puzzled. "If that is what you want, in exchange for the
alloy."

"Nicky..."

"What?" His visitor sounded angry. "Look, I need to repair my ankle,
you want... whatever you want. Let's do it, before Captain Picard
returns with Starfleet Intelligence to pack me up in a crate."

"I do not wish to take advantage of your present incapacity."

"Tovarisch, I am not incapacitated." Nicky stood up and folded the
chair he'd been sitting in neatly into a cube of contorted metal and
textile, ten centimetres to each side.

"I have already said I will provide the alloy," Data insisted. "You
don't have to do this."

"I don't have to... No, I do have to." Nicky nodded, as if settling an
internal argument. "I do. Lieutenant Commander... you didn't tell me
your name?"

"Data."

Nicky looked at him disapprovingly. "I see what you mean."

"What?"

"A joke. Your name is a bad joke."

"Is it?"

"Most certainly."

Data paused. He was experiencing a most novel sensation, as if his
processors were overheating... no... contamination in his sensory
processors... no... embarrassment?

"I do not believe it is intended as a joke. My friends and colleagues
do not perceive it as such. I think."

Nicky shrugged disbelievingly, with a lovely, human motion of his
mechanical shoulders.

"How can we contrive an effective data link?" Data asked, surprised by
his own impatience. "I have the ability..."

The other reached out and took hold of his hand. A shock of
recognition hit the science officer. The link was made. Nicky smiled.
"I can do that, but I don't know how. An ability to sense and induce
electrical activity, I think."

"Just by touch?" Data didn't withdraw his hand. He reached out and
used the other to complete the circuit, touching Nicky's face. The
link moved into another level, another dimension.

"You... can... feel..." Data said wonderingly.

"And now you can feel too."

Data broke contact with both hands and sat back. "I can only feel what
you feel. That is interesting, but... I wanted to feel for myself."

"You're too impatient. Try again." Nicky held out his hands, and Data
was reminded of the children in the ship's kindergarten, how they
stretched up their arms for the attention of their teacher, or any
adult visitor to their classroom.

He ignored the hands, for now.

"Nicky, I am not sure why you are doing this. It is not necessary for
you to indulge me. I will give you the materials you need. You can
take them away now."

The outstretched hands fell back. "But... Data... I want something
more... your ambition." Nicky gestured at Data's collar, the bright
pips. "Your sense of purpose."

At that, Data's hunger to take the hands, to complete the joining,
abated sharply. Ambition. Purpose. They were two-edged qualities. In
himself, he judged with what he hoped was objectivity, they had led to
twenty seven years of selfless service to the ideals of Starfleet. In
Admiral Chekov, the service had been longer, and just as devoted. But
the being sitting across from him now was not Pavel Chekov. He might
turn into a Khan, or a Garth. Invulnerable, he might become far more
dangerous than either.

"Admiral Chekov had the qualities you seek. You say that when you were
made, when he was twenty two years old, you did not know, at first,
that you were not he. Yet he was ambitious then, and disciplined,
dedicated..."

"Perhaps they copied him on a bad day." Nicky stood, brushing past
Data with a brief contact of hand on hand that sent signal spikes
reverberating throughout the android's positronic net.

Data didn't turn to watch his guest, but he could hear him ordering
another drink from the replicator.

"I did have ambitions. Exactly the same ambitions he had. To be in
Starfleet, to do my job well, promotion, command... eventually. Proper
command. A ship. Not a stupid desk at the admiralty. And there were
other things I wanted to do. When I escaped from the androids, I
wanted to find my friends, my family..."

Data heard the clink of ice in the glass as Nicky brought it back to
his seat. He slumped into the chair and stared at the vodka, swirling
it and watching the ice make circles.

"And when none of that was possible..." Data prompted.

"When none of that was possible... I drank a great deal and slept with
the most beautiful women available."

"But eventually..."

Nicky looked up at him suspiciously.

"Eventually," Data continued patiently, "you... did what?"

"What do you mean?"

"You must have adjusted to the situation, considered alternatives."

"Why? I still want to be a Starfleet officer. Why should I change my
mind about that? I am still as capable as I was, more capable."

There was something about the android, the way he was pulling on his
lower lip with his teeth and not meeting Data's eyes, that made his
host think he might be about to say more. The vodka slopped over the
rim of the glass and Nicky scowled at it. He swapped it to the other
hand and licked his fingers.

"That was why I turned the force field off."

"You wished to commit suicide?"

"No! I know... that this is ridiculous. I'm trapped. When Pasha
realised he would never be given command of a starship, the kind of
ship he wanted, he changed direction. He did something different, not
what I -- what *he* -- wanted at the beginning, but still... And he
grew old as his friends grew old. He made new friends, new
relationships, relationships that lasted. I... I wanted to grow up. I
wanted to be able to change."

"But..."

"I can learn. I can experience things. But whatever method they used
to give me a personality, emotions, must be... hard-wired."

Data nodded. "I see."

"I am sure Pasha could hold a conversation with forty Captain Picards
without his heart rate accelerating. He could change. I did contact
him once. He didn't know... It was strange. So you see, I'm stuck. But
when I turned off the force field, and was damaged, it just hurt so
much." He put the glass down on the table beside his chair, still half
full.

"You can understand, that they might not want androids to change."

"Who is *they*?"

"Whoever designed the androids who made you. Presumably they
duplicated their own construction in so doing. Did they show any
ability to grow, to develop?"

"Absolutely not. But I never thought of myself being like them. I was
like Pasha. I *was* Pasha."

"Then why do you call yourself 'Nicky'."

"It is a short form of Nicholai. 'Kolya' would be..."

"Yes, I know that. But why not Pavel, or Pasha?"

"I thought..." The android brushed the back of a hand across his eyes.
"I thought if I ever met an old friend, they might be confused."

"I understand. But you never did."

"No. Which was a good thing. They would probably have called
Intelligence."

"Nicky..."

His visitor swiped at his eyes again and looked up. "Yes?"

"You have changed. You have adapted to your situation. You have
lowered your expectations, changed your name and developed the
attitude and lifestyle of a wanted criminal. Change for the worse is
still change."

His visitor looked angry for a moment. "That is easy for you to say."

"It was an observation, not a criticism."

Nicky looked away, his expression hardening. "I forgot that you had
come to the bar to 'observe'." Then he turned back, as Data touched
the back of his hand. "What?"

"Lower your shields. I will not hurt you."

The android sighed. "Very well. No shields. What now? War games?"

"Do you mind me touching you? I find it... most exhilarating."

"Go ahead."

Data carefully moved the table with the glass on it to one side and
knelt on the floor between his visitor's feet. He took one of Nicky's
hands and examined the fingers.

"Wherever we touch," Nicky said, sounding bored, "the effect is the
same. I can delete a hotel account by leaning my elbow on the top of
the receptionist's screen."

When the pads of their fingers met, jolts of energy seemed to travel
between them. Data's palm laid flat against the other's revealed that
the peaks and spikes were individual strands of a complex two way
communication. And that was before he began to interpret the structure
of the signals. That was just how it *felt*.

Before he knew what he was doing, Lieutenant Commander Data had leaned
forward and kissed Nicky.

"Okay. Perhaps it does make a difference, where we touch." A little
breathless, Nicky pulled out of the kiss.

"I am sorry." Data began to rise to his feet, but Nicky caught hold of
his wrists and tugged him back onto his knees. Data always curbed his
own strength in physical interactions with humans: the power of
Nicky's grip on him, the knowledge that he couldn't casually break
free, was another gleaming thread in the web of sensation which held
him fast.

"Are you feeling what I am feeling?" Data asked earnestly.

"I am feeling exactly what you are feeling." Nicky pulled Data's
wrists together and pinned them against the lieutenant commander's
chest with a single hand. He slid his other hand behind Data's neck
and pulled his head forward into a kiss what was nothing like Tasha's
kisses.

For the first time in his existence, Data felt his body stirring in a
sexual response over which he had no control.

"Do you have a bed, or does Captain Picard expect you to sleep
standing up?"

Data blinked. "I do not sleep..."

"Oh."

"But I do have a bed." He gestured towards the sleeping area.

"Then, shall we?"

There were many reasons, Data told himself, why they should not.

"Yes," he said. "We will." He led the way to the bedroom, aware of his
visitor's presence behind him. It was as if the other android was a
very intense light source, shining on his unprotected skin. The image
made him shiver and yearn to be naked, to bask in Nicky's presence.
"Let me undress you," Data said, drunk on his own impetuosity. "Let
me... worship you."

His fingers unerringly found the closures on Nicky's shirt. He rolled
the garment away from the android's shoulders, tracing the lines of
the collar bones with gentle fingers, then placing kisses where his
fingers had travelled. Nicky just stood there, grinning broadly. Data
returned to his mouth to remind himself how it tasted and felt, before
finishing the removal of the shirt and starting on the pants.

Nicky pulled away and kicked them off impatiently. "If you are not
anatomically correct, Data, I may be in trouble."

"I am fully functional," Data reassured him.

"With Lieutenant Yar, perhaps, but with..." Nicky paused for
inspiration. An teasing smile formed on his lips. "With Captain
Picard?"

To Data's amazement, his sense of arousal increased. "No."

Nicky shook his head. "But you would like to. No, don't try to deny
it. Remember, I feel what you feel."

Data pushed Nicky onto the bed, away from him. "I do not wish to feel
that. Stop it."

His visitor shrugged. "I apologise. I did not realise it would offend
you."

Data was frowning, but he was less skilled than a human at denying his
feelings to himself. "The novelty of the concept must be titillating,
that is all."

"Of course," Nicky agreed comfortably. He looked Data up and down.
"But I still only have your word that you are... fully functional."

"I understand what you mean," Data said, then stopped, struck by the
anger in his voice, real anger, shaped by his body's reaction to
Nicky's taunting. He was so entranced by the sensation that he wanted
to be *more* angry, more something.

"You know from experience that you are fully functional yourself, I
suppose? A large number of experiences?" He tried to sound like Picard
baiting Q, at his most scathing.

"Try me."

Nicky was still sprawled on the bed, but still fully clothed. Data
leaned forward and ripped his clothes off him.

The android blinked. "No shields, remember. That..." He rubbed at the
skin of his upper arms. "...hurt."

Data's eyes were fixed on Nicky's ersatz genitalia. His visitor was
aroused, but not nearly so intensely as Data. That, the lieutenant
commander, had to admit, was slightly shocking. It meant that at least
some of what he was feeling came entirely from within himself.

"Turn over," he ordered.

Nicky grinned lazily. "Or you will do... what?"

"I will turn you over myself... And spank you."

"I think I will like that." Nicky licked his lips. "I think I will
like that a great deal."

---

When Data woke, he immediately assumed the worse, but a quick review
of his system log revealed that Nicky had not turned him off. Data had
simply... unaccountably... fallen asleep. Of Nicky, and various
artefacts containing significant quantities of titanium alloy, there
was no sign. The holo-figurine of Tasha, despite containing at least
four grams of that substance, had been left behind, along with a
message on his computer screen.

"Thank you," it said simply. "I am having breakfast with Captain
Picard this morning, and following that I intend to contact Starfleet
Intelligence once I have resolved certain outstanding matters. Perhaps
you will put in a good word for me."

Data picked his uniform up off the floor, and flexed various
servo-systems that seemed unaccountably stiff and sore this morning.
He wasn't sure what the outstanding matters were, and he suspected
that Nicky, despite his new found enthusiasm for change, might be
easily seduced back into his old ways. But he rather hoped that
wouldn't be the case.

---

The End