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.The Naked And Then What Happened	By : keithcompany Category: Star Trek > The Next Generation Views: 4670 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, settings or props of the Star Trek universe. I make no profit from this fanfic.

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"It didn't happen," Lieutenant Yar muttered as she stalked through the passageway. "It didn't happen."

"What didn't happen?" Wesley asked as he passed in the opposite direction. He offered a friendly smile, hoping she'd discuss the matter with him as if he was an adult.

Tasha snarled and brushed past him, putting a little emphasis into her shoulder as it struck the boy's.

He spun around three times to bounce off a maintenance worker kneeling before an open panel of ship's electronics.

"Oooh," Wesley said. "Optoisolational data chips. Can I help? What are you doing? Do you know there's a more efficient arrangement? Here, scoot over."

Yar rounded a corner of the passage so she couldn't have seen the scene even if she'd turned around. But she heard the 'accidental' discharge from the optic tuner and Wesley's scream. She smiled briefly and continued on.

Counselor Troi was in a cross passage and saw the smile, recognized the sense of deep satisfaction and Schadenfreude as the usually-troubled young woman went by.

Well, maybe she was in a good enough mood to ask her to pay for the Space Geisha costume she'd damaged during the SS Tsiolkovsky incident.

Just as she made eye contact, though, she was swept off her feet by an overwhelming sense of fear. Anxiety and fear. Whopping great waves of fear.

The Betazed bent as if overtaken by really really bad cramps and leaned on the bulkhead. Amazing, she thought. She hadn't thought Yar even knew the meaning of fear.

-----

Tasha stormed into sickbay and the doctor's office. "I'm late," she snarled.

"Late?" Crusher asked. "Tasha, you're the most punctual person on board. Well, after Data. He's got digital timing and an onboard clock. And after Worf, who sees schedules as enemies. And after Picard, of course, who holds himself to a standard higher than he holds his officers. So he has to be more prompt than even Data.

"Then there's Riker, who wants to be Picard when he grows up. Except fun. So he's always where Picard wants him to be three minutes early. But other than those men, Tasha, you're certainly the most punctual woman on board."

"I'm late... In a female way," Yar said.

"Lieutenant," Crusher said slowly. "Do you mean you've finally stopped your periods? You know there's a pool in Ten Forward about whether you'd ever manage to just will the femininity out of you. Strictly speaking, as a medical professional, I shouldn't tolerate such biological nonsense even for a joke. But I have 'rip out ovaries with a spoon' in the pool and I thought-"

"I�m plenty feminine!" Yar shouted, slamming her fist on the doctor's desk. "I'm so damned feminine I'm pregnant!"

"Oh. Late," Crusher said.

-----------

The constant flow of stars on the screen was starting to bore Picard. It was like being a target in a really, really big shooting gallery. That catered to lousy shots. "I'll be in my Ready Room," he announced to the bridge crew.

Once inside, he turned his chair to look out the window. It faced out the port side so the passing stars effect was from right to left.

"Much better," he said. His door bell sounded the distinct beep series associated with someone requesting entry. For the thousandth time, he wished he could customize that sound.

A Romulan assassination squad could be requesting entry so they could grab some DNA and drive his clone insane, it'd sound just like Crusher asking to come in and sit on his lap, lick his bald spot and show him her merry widow lingerie.

Nothing extensive, just special little sounds for special little people he'd come to know on board. A little heads-up that his executive officer or a department head were going to come in.

Some clashing swords for Worf, perhaps. A trumpet solo for Riker. An ancient Moog Synthesizer for his artificial ops officer. Stripper's Burlesque for the counselor.

The door beeped again. The boring, repetitive beep that could be anyone. "Come," he said gruffly. The crew thought his tone was a way of keeping his distance from his inferiors. He just hated the user interface designers Starfleet had hired. Miserable, lazy, unambitious and probably Californian bastards, oh, how he despised them.

Tasha Yar stepped in. He'd always had a soft spot for Lt. Yar. She was like the tomboy daughter or effeminate cross dressing but wiry son he'd never had.

"Tasha!" he said cheerfully. "Come in, come in." He pointed to a chair, knowing she'd prefer to stand. Yar thought sitting was weak and it impacted one's ability to respond to a crisis.

She had more than a few stories about chairs back on the colony she'd grown up on. Every single one of them ended with 'and then they all died.'

So when she actually took the seat and sat down he was quite shocked. He tried not to show it, though.

"What the fuck's wrong?" he asked, nonchalant as only a Frenchman could be.

"Sir. I'm pregnant," she said in her usual, gunner with lidar lock delivery.

"Huh," he said, leaning back in his own chair. "How'd that happen?"

"Well, sir, the lieutenant finds the lieutenant commander very tasty, so she gets really drunk and kisses him really hard..."

"Tasha! Are you saying you and Lieutenant Commander....um. Hm..." He paused, trying to remember the number of lit-cedars on board.

The ship hadn't been crewed long enough for officer evaluations to be written. That's when he usually met his people, as he assigned blame for events that were certainly out of HIS control.

He kinda thought the engineer was a full commander. But then again, the man he'd thought was his engineer turned out to be the guy who detailed the shuttlecraft after each mission.

Astrogation had a Lt. bucking for promotion to Lt. Cdr... The man had taken up fencing just to be in the gym whenever Picard went there.

And the Atheist Chaplain had BEEN a Lt. Cdr., but retired to fulfill his Total Lack Of Calling in the Chaplain Corps.

Hell, the only THING on board with the appropriate number of pips was...

"Data?" he asked softly.

She nodded.

"Daaaaaamn," he muttered.

--------

"Damn it, Data," Riker snapped. "How is that even possible?"

"How is what possible, sir?" Data asked. The other officers in the conference room rubbed their faces.

"How did you get Lieutenant Yar pregnant?" Riker asked.

"I did not, sir. It never happened," the android repeated

"Yes, Data, it did!" the XO insisted. Again.

"No, sir. After we all recovered from the polywater intoxication we acquired by touching the SS Tsiolkovsky's dead crewmen and then touching each other all over the ship, Lieutenant Yar informed me that it never happened."

"She lied, Data!"

"Sir-" Yar tried to interrupt.

"LIED!" Riker insisted.

"Yes, sir," Data agreed, "but nonetheless, it never happened." He winked broadly in the direction of the female security officer. As she was sitting next to La Forge on the curved side of the conference table, the young man thought the wink was aimed at him.

He cursed the fate that took his eyes at such a young age, dooming him to hiding behind this visor which, while cool as all get out, made it pretty much impossible to return the optics-based invite.

Instead, he made a small but significant gesture with his hand, just above the lip of the table.

Troi slapped his hand and called him a naughty, naughty boy with her mind. Too late, she remembered that she had to have strong feelings of attachment to someone to speak to them in THEIR mind. La Forge never knew her opinion of his display of willingness.

Riker stopped hounding the malfunctioning recording device that was their Operations officer and turned to face his on again, off again lover. It sounded like she wanted to be on again. Naughty, naughty indeed.

"Anyway," Picard said, idly scanning the tea leaves at the bottom of his cup of tea. "Is it at all possible, hypothetically, for you to impregnate a woman such as Lieutenant Yar?"

"No, sir," Data replied. "While I am fully functional and programmed in many techniques, to provide a wide variety of pleasuring, the functionality goes no further than that of a sexual aid."

"Very well," the captain said, turning towards Doctor Crusher.

"I am," Data continued, "essentially a computer-driven vibrator. My surface has been selected for tactile pleasure, both in temperature and texture. I am ribbed for her enjoyment."

"Oh?" Troi asked.

"Oh, yeah," Yar confirmed.

"Yes, yes," Picard nodded. "Be that as it may, we have to ascertain-"

"I also have a tempo that can be set to a continuous beat, a rising rhythm, or customized to respond to my partner's heart beat or other physical cues."

"The woman's heart beat, you mean," Worf suggested.

"No," Data said. "That is most certainly not what I mean. In fact, even the suggestion of a humanoid, by use of the term 'woman' is inadequate to fully describe my range of capabilities or the various qualities I can embrace."

He smiled and three men in the room reached for their phasers.

"ANYWAY!" Picard shouted for attention. He pointed at Crusher. "If Data's the only partner she's had since her last rape gang encounter, how is it possible that she's pregnant?"

"Well, she could have mutated or been altered so that her eggs were pre-fertilized when they entered her womb."

Picard turned to his XO. "Number One, have the engineer remove Tribble Souffles from the menu," he said. "Just as a precaution."

"At once, sir," Riker replied.

"Or?" Picard asked, turning back to Crusher.

"Well, maybe Data mutated-"

"Mutation requires genetic material, Doctor. It is physically impossible for me to mutate," Data lectured.

"Wait a minute," Picard snapped. "Then who was it that gave me that bullshit Shylock line? 'We are more alike than unlike, my dear captain. Blah, blah, blather. If you prick me, do I not... leak?' If you're all that damned much like me, why can't you mutate, or suffer some other unplanned change that alters your capabilities in ways you can hardly predict."

"I, uh...I guess I can, sir."

"Damned straight."
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.The Naked And Then What Happened