Author: Willa Shakespeare
Rating: Explicit slash NC-17
Fandoms: Blake's 7/Star Trek: The Next Generation
Summary: Avon fixes Data's wagon and advances his education.
Avon was bored. Recent events on Liberator, combined with Sarkoff's offer of an all-expenses paid, week-long holiday on Lindor, had led to a general revolt among the crew, instigated by Vila and abetted by Jenna, Cally and Gan. Blake had given in, and now Avon almost wished he hadn't.
Lindor was an excruciating bore as far as Avon was concerned. The citizens were seemingly well-adjusted, sensible folk who enjoyed puttering in their gardens, having a pint at the local, and indulging in various arcane hobbies. Sarkoff's obsession with old Earth memorabilia was actually quite restrained, compared to the ones who scuba-dove to dangerous depths for the sole purpose of depositing brightly painted figurines of mythical creatures in an undersea 'garden', or the lunatics who climbed mountains in order to iron a shirt at the summit.
Once he decided to do it, Blake had insisted that the fresh air and change of scene would do them all good. He had finally annoyed Avon into following him down. Blake went hiking. Avon insisted on a more civilized, metropolitan recreation, and somehow found himself being taken on a personally conducted tour of the Earth museum Sarkoff had begun before his exile. Blake had given Avon a 'look' that signified far more annoyance if he insulted President Sarkoff.
So here he was, following Sarkoff into the costume area of his Earth museum. After a series of interminable lectures on insects, wax recordings, and quaint, hand-crafted musical instruments, Avon was having difficulty pretending to listen. He wished he hadn't been able to hear Sarkoff's accordion-playing.
"And this is a unique item, a genuine naval Admiral's uniform from the days when individual countries had navies! I was fortunate enough to discover this wonderful display mannequin that perfectly matches it. It's the pride of my costume collection." Sarkoff beamed and waited for Avon's response.
Avon looked up at the display. The uniform was white, decorated with glittering buttons and gold braid, topped by a fairly useless-seeming hat. Avon admitted it did have style, in an uncomfortable way. The mannequin...
Avon smiled. "That's not a mannequin." He walked up to the straight-backed figure staring blankly ahead out of disconcertingly yellow eyes. He touched the inhumanly white skin, and his smile brightened. "It's an early model android. In remarkably good condition, considering its age."
"Really? Well, it makes quite a good mannequin." Sarkoff looked at Avon shrewdly, having seen his guest's boredom. "If you'd like to examine it further-- even experiment with it -- there's a workshop in the basement. It should have all the tools you need."
"Yes, yes, I would. Thank you."
Once the costume was opened to gain access to the circuitry, the android was revealed to be anatomically correct. Avon wasn't sure why he was surprised about that- but why not give it more natural coloring, then? Ah, well, bio-plastics probably hadn't been invented yet. Avon opened the 'skin', cleaned all the contacts, restored broken connections, replaced corroded wiring and brittle circuitry, soaked the positronic brain in a lubricant/cleansing bath, removed the old power source, modified the system to accept flutonic power cells, and in general enjoyed himself thoroughly for several days, whilst the rest of the Liberator crew frolicked in their various ways.
At last, Avon sealed up the unit, tidily refastened the admiral's uniform and went over a mental check-list. It should be all right. He picked up a hand-gun, just in case, and activated the android.
Yellow eyes blinked, and after staring at the ceiling for several seconds, the android turned its head to him. "Hello. Who are you, may I enquire, sir?"
"Well, you're polite." Avon looked at the android's expressionless face for a moment. "My name is Kerr Avon. Do you have a name?"
"Yes, sir. My name is Data."
Despite the pronunciation, Avon recognized the pun, and smiled."Good. Can you move?"
Data lifted an arm and rotated it so it was looking at its palm. "Yes, sir." The android sat up stiffly, and got off the worktable. Avon backed up warily. Data looked around the workroom, without moving anything other than its head, in jerky motions. "I do not recognize this place, sir. Can you tell me where I am?"
"It's not so much a matter of where, as when. You were deactivated for over a thousand years. You are now in the basement of a museum of Earth antiquities."
"Interesting." Data turned towards Avon. "Is that a weapon, sir? I am not programmed to be hostile without cause." It tilted its head. "I..."
"What?"
"I believe I have... served in a military capacity, sir. But... I cannot access definitive memories of specific incidents. Can you explain this, sir?" Data's eyes shifted to gaze directly on Avon's face.
"I repaired the circuitry, but there was inevitable loss to your memory banks." Avon was beginning to relax. The machine appeared harmless. Probably useless as well, but possibly not.
"Thank you, sir." Data took a step and then another. After a few seconds, its movement was much smoother. "I congratulate you, sir. I conjecture that few would possess the skill to repair such an obsolete mechanism."
Avon smiled. "Thank you, Data." He holstered his gun. "Come up to the main museum. There are archaic data-banks that no one has been able to decipher. I'm curious to see if you can read them."
The data-input on the android still functioned quite well. Avon sat with a cup of coffee and watched while it scanned Sarkoff's collection of antique data-banks. When the android sat back and blinked rapidly, Avon leaned forward and asked, "Have you found anything useful?"
"Possibly, sir." Data blinked again in what Avon had come to recognize as data search and retrieval. "Would you like to know how to program an automated potato-harvester?"
"No, not at the moment." Avon drank his coffee and a sudden thought occurred to him. "Do you ingest food?"
"I do not need to, sir, but I am capable of it. I can identify a comparable range of flavors to a human's taste-buds. I often enjoyed chocolate. Enjoyed?" Data blinked. "Accessing data... sir, I was once able to 'feel' emotions. I possess an emotion-chip, which is currently defective."
"You're better off without it." Avon finished his coffee and leaned over the android's shoulder. "I'm interested in computer technology. Show me the most advanced information you have found so far in that area."
Data obliged. Avon shook his head. "Slow down the data-stream."
"Yes, sir."
After a few minutes, Avon found himself asking the android to slow it more, and finally, when he had to ask for the same passage to be repeated twice, he knew he'd reached his limit. "I'm going back to my ship to sleep." He looked at the android and hesitated. It would be only sensible to deactivate it until he could return, but... some of the circuitry was so fragile... too many activation cycle power-surges might damage it beyond his ability to repair. "Data, do not leave the museum without my permission."
The android blinked again. "Sir, I do not know that you are authorized to give me orders."
"You don't know that I'm not." Avon watched as the machine processed this logic and found no flaw in it. "In either case, what harm would it do to remain here until my return? What did you want to do instead?"
"I... do not know in detail, sir." Data blinked. "I wish to collect information to acclimatize myself to this era."
Avon nodded at the computer in front of Data. "That is the most complete extant collection of the intervening time. It's the best start you could have."
"That would seem to be logical, sir." Data turned back to the computer. "I will await your return."
Avon managed nearly five hours of sleep before admitting his curiosity about Data wouldn't let him rest any longer. He dressed and teleported back to the museum, arriving in the outer chamber and heading for the place he'd left Data. He had, of course, gone to Sarkoff and informed him that the android was functional, and seemed harmless, before he teleported up, so he wasn't surprised to see Sarkoff talking with it when he entered the room.
What did surprise him was the way the android was behaving. It kept making the most absurd facial contortions and gesturing with its hands.
Sarkoff found this delightfully amusing, but Avon was alarmed. Did this presage a killing frenzy? "Data!" Avon said, sharply, "Systems analysis report!"
Data blinked at Avon. "That is not necessary, sir." It grimaced again. "All my systems are functioning at an adequate level." It paused, then asked, "How does a man on a moon get his hair cut?"
"What?" Avon asked, baffled by the non-sequitur.
"Eclipse it." Data produced an even more grotesque grimace, and Avon suddenly realized it was trying to smile. "What do flies wear on their feet?"
Avon refused to rise to the bait, but Sarkoff grinned, and asked, "I don't know, what do flies wear on their feet?"
"Shoos."
Avon looked at Sarkoff. "How long has it been behaving like this?"
"For the last two hours. It's very amusing, don't you think?"
Avon showed his teeth. "Very." He turned to the android. "Data, why are you telling jokes -- very bad jokes?"
"Are they bad, sir?" Data blinked. "Two atoms are talking. One says, 'Help, somebody has stolen one of my electrons!' The other atom asks, 'Are you sure?' The first atom replies, 'Yes, I'm positive'!" Data looks at Avon expectantly. "Was that any better, sir?"
"Not appreciably. Data, you weren't telling jokes when I left. You are telling them now. Do you know why?"
"Yes, sir. I accessed a file on Noonian Soong. He was my creator." Data turned to the computer and it displayed an image of a elderly man whose features were identical to Data's. "I was created in his image, and it seemed logical that if that was my creator's intent I should do all I could to increase the resemblance."
"He was a ..." Avon searched for the word, "comedian and inventor? That seems an unlikely combination."
Data tilted its head. "I do not know what a comedian is, sir, but his biography says he was 'gay'. The meaning I have for this word indicates a person of some jocularity. Is this not correct?"
Sarkoff coughed. "Er, Avon, I think I'll leave you to explain this. I have some... pressing affairs of state, yes, that's it." The President of Lindor fled with some haste, still smiling.
Avon watched him leave and then turned to Data. "The word 'gay' when applied to a person usually means that they are sexually attracted to their own sex. As you are a machine, it does not apply to you."
Data blinked. "I wish to ascertain this for myself, sir."
"That is impossible."
"I do not believe so, sir. My body is capable of all the physical responses of a human male, according to Dr. Soong's biography. I was apparently the culmination of his life-work." Data tilted its head in the other direction. "I would like to be 'gay', sir."
Avon sighed. "It's not just the physical aspect. You don't have the social training or the emotional responses."
"If you could repair my emotion chip, all that would be lacking would be experience. I do learn quickly, sir."
Avon raised his eyebrows. "I've been accused of being in love with computers, Data, but never literally."
"Love, sir?" Data blinked. "Ah, a romantic attachment. That was not my intent. I merely wish to engage in non-reproductive sexual behavior with you, sir."
Avon coughed.
Data looked at him expectantly. "Was that a 'no', sir?"
"I'm thinking about it." Actually, when Avon considered it, there was some appeal. A sex-partner who would do whatever Avon asked, without emotional requirements, and who would be expecting neither payment nor promises -- It was tempting. And morally -- well, it was no worse than Vila's sensory ecstasy machines- better, in fact, as Data was quite clearly capable of free consent. "Yes. All right, but you must obey all my instructions."
"That is acceptable, sir." Data took off his jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt. "I can direct you to the emotion chip, but I can not advise you on repair."
"I doubt I could design one, but I'm sure I can repair an existing chip. Come back to the workroom."
Fortunately the flaw was clearly visible under magnification, and repair was simple. Avon reinserted the chip and waited to see what the result would be.
Data smiled. "That's better." He looked up from the worktable at Avon. "Where shall we begin, sir?"
"We'll start with you calling me 'Avon'."
"Avon." Data sat up, and swung his legs against the table. "I'm looking forward to this; aren't you?"
"Yes. Yes, I think I am." Avon moved over to Data. "This is a kiss." He pressed his mouth against the android's, pleased to find that the 'flesh' was indistinguishable from human, although up close Data smelled not unpleasantly of synthetics. Data did not resist Avon's tongue probing at his lips, and after a moment began exploring Avon's mouth. Avon cupped the back of Data's head, assessing the feel of the 'hair' as similar to the antique fiber, rayon.
Data put his hands on Avon's shoulders and urged him closer. He said softly, "This is quite interesting, Avon. Although my groin is not touching you, I am experiencing considerable neural excitement in that area. Is this usual?"
Avon smiled. "Yes. Caressing other parts of the body often results in stimulation of the sexual organs." To demonstrate, Avon picked up one of Data's hands, and made feather-light circles on the palms, then sucked briefly on a finger. "The face, the hands and feet, and the genitals, all contain a high percentage of nerve endings, so touch in those areas is generally more stimulating."
Data nodded. "Then maximum skin-to-skin contact should be more effective?"
"I have always found that to be so." Avon glanced around the workroom. "Quite often sexual activities are conducted on a bed, but it isn't essential."
Data blinked. "I have noted a point oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-one drop in computing ability, concomitant with my rise in sexual excitement. If the extrapolated trend continues, this mental impairment could result in injury due to lack of logical reasoning. I have no desire to injure you, Avon."
Avon smiled. "I know my way around computers." He kissed Data again, this time rubbing his hand against Data's groin. "I'm not afraid of you."
Data groaned, and then looked surprised. "If you would, please, repeat that activity, Avon."
Avon rubbed harder, and then paused to note the results. He grinned. "Take off your clothes while I find some lubricant."
Data got off the table and began disrobing. "There is an aerosol container of silicone lubricant on the shelf beside this table."
"Not that kind of lubricant." Avon found the workshop emergency medical kit and removed a sachet of something suitably viscous and safe for internal use. Not that Avon intended to use it inside himself. He turned and saw that Data was already nude and fully aroused, the artificial foreskin drawn back to expose a deep red cockhead, surrounded by ivory-white skin. The android was smiling, and even had a slight flush across his chest. Avon nodded. He approved of designers being meticulous in the details.
Data came to Avon and kissed him, putting his hands into Avon's hair and stroking as he thrust his tongue deeply into Avon's mouth. "I have an hypothesis I wish to test, Avon." Data sank to his knees, and opened Avon's trousers and lowered them. "If oral suction upon a digit is stimulating, then it seems reasonable that the same activity performed upon the penis will be even more effective. May I conduct the experiment?"
The cool words spoken in a soft voice aroused Avon even further. Avon hesitated for an instant, then gave in. "Don't bite."
"Of course not." Data slid his mouth down all the way to Avon's balls in one smooth movement and immediately began a rhythmic suction.
Avon gasped as Data continued sucking, without moving his head or any other part of himself. Of course, he doesn't need to breathe. Data's eyes rolled up slightly as he observed Avon's reactions.
"Move, Data." Avon grasped Data's hair and tugged slightly, guiding him back and then forward again. Avon groaned and took Data's hands, lifting them up to place them on his hips as he thrust. "Touch me," Avon ordered in a smoky voice. "Here." He stroked his inner thighs and then cupped his balls for an instant, hand contacting the smoothness of Data's chin. "And here." He touched his arse, spreading his legs and running a hand up the crease separating his arse cheeks.
Data obliged. After a moment, Avon saw the android blink again, and put a hand down to stroke his own cock, which had begun jerking and twitching against his belly. "That's right," Avon said. "It feels good, doesn't it?" He moaned and put his hands on Data's shoulders to balance himself as he thrust, slow and deep. Unable to answer without injuring Avon, Data blinked.
"Stop!" Avon gasped as Data obeyed, but only to the extent of ceasing the suction. Avon caught his breath and pulled his cock free. "I want to fuck your arse. Turn around and get on your hands and knees."
"Yes, Avon." Data assumed the required position. "I quite enjoyed sucking your penis. Will this be as pleasurable?"
Avon opened the sachet of lube and greased himself. "If your creator did a proper job on you, yes." He slipped a greasy finger into Data's arse.
"I am certain Dr. Soong... ahhh!" Data looked over his shoulder at Avon in surprise. "Please! Do that again!"
Avon laughed and massaged Data's artificial prostate, while the android moaned and arched his back. "Now hold still. I haven't had sex in a while, so I may lose control and come too quickly if you stimulate me too much."
Data was panting, even though he didn't need air. "So may I! Please! Do that again!"
"Loosen your anal muscles. Let me in." Avon put the head of his cock to Data's hole and waited a second. An android has full control of its 'autonomic' reflexes and on command the sphincter opened wide. "Yes!" Avon thrust and felt no resistance, going in up to the balls in one stroke. "Ahh!" He grabbed Data's hips to anchor himself and pushed and pulled for several seconds before reaching under to grasp Data's cock, as hard and hot as any human's. "Move! Let me feel you!"
Data began tightening and loosening his arse around Avon's plunging cock, moaning and gradually moving his whole body until he was grunting and humping like a vid-porn star. Suddenly Data screamed, and clamped down on Avon while his cock leaped in Avon's hand. The android slumped to the floor and lay as Avon followed him down, pumping his arse wildly until Avon's own orgasm hit.
After a few minutes, Data turned his head and smiled at Avon. "Thank you, Avon. Would you do that again, please?"
Avon laughed.
Avon enjoyed the rest of the week thoroughly. Reluctantly he decided that taking Data with him on Liberator was impractical, even if Sarkoff hadn't minded losing his new librarian and archivist. Data had become much more human, and gave every appearance of being satisfied with 'life', here. As a final gift to Data, Avon brought up the data on Noonian Soong and used all the repair and extrapolation programs he knew to repair the file as best as possible. He read over the final result and laughed.
"What do you find so amusing?" Data said, coming up behind Avon to place his hands on Avon's shoulders and gently rub them.
"This." Avon highlighted the text and read it aloud, " 'In his youth, Noonian Soong was a gay blade with the ladies'."
After a week of intensive 'education', Data now had a much wider understanding of colloquialisms, along with the ability to express his emotions. "Dr. Soong wasn't gay?" Data laughed until artificial tears ran down his face. "Do you think I can find a woman to teach me how to be a 'gay blade'?"
Avon grinned. "Tyce seemed interested." Avon rose from the computer and turned to face Data. "I cannot say I regret the error, even if you feel you've lost valuable time in your sexual education."
"No, I don't." Data grinned back at Avon and said, " 'A neutron went into a bar and asked the bartender, 'How much for a beer?' The bartender replied, 'For you, no charge.' I'm getting better, aren't I?"
Avon shook his head. "I should never have introduced you to Vila." He lifted his teleport bracelet. "Goodbye, Data."
"Goodbye, Avon." Data blinked at Avon's disappearance. He tilted his head slightly. "Interesting. Some people do still possess transporter capability in this era." He sat at the computer and made a note of the fact.