Lieutenant Commander Data

RP Love Meme

2010-09-17T06:19:26Z

Prompt 009.2 for lightyearsahead

2010-06-04T08:01:42Z

2. What was the most terrible installment of your canon in your opinion? Why did you dislike it so much? Tell us what happened that you didn't approve of and what you would have done it better.

I started playing Data before the new Star Trek movie was announced, and I was skeptical but glad they were rebooting rather than roaming back into the territory of another terrible TNG flick. The only good one, in my opinion, had been First Contact.

As it was, as much as I love Roddenberry and it was TNG that introduced me to the franchise, I later realized that it seemed that he'd gone completely off course in his own universe in retrospect. They couldn't get away with rough and tumble cowboys in space like they originally had, so they filled in the gaps with pseudoscience and melodrama. Both I had already adapted to, and accepted the terrible inconsistencies involving the character I was playing because, well, his canon had passed.

Then the movie came out, and with it came a game and a prequel comic. Brent Spiner had explicitly stated he wanted Data dead. He would not reprise the character, he was too old to when the character supposedly wouldn't age, and it was time that he moved on. I agreed with this, and felt that it was respectful of the man who'd portrayed the man for fourteen years to allow his character to remain canonically in the grave.

But then this comic (and the game) brought him back. Not only that, they decided that somehow despite all these long term doubts involving artificial intelligences and his history with the Borg that vaguely reflected Picard's, he was going to be placed in charge of the Enterprise. An android at the helm of the flagship of the Federation in a very short period of time. Plus, the man who'd advocated the rights of even the simplest artificial intelligences, who preserved the memories of his daughter in his mind, had essentially killed his innocent brother to take over his body.

They changed his personality yet again to better suit the command of the vessel, and his interest in science wasn't quite as profound as it had been.

Like with Doctor Who, though, the canonicity of any non-theatrical/non-televised thing is open to interpretation. I decided to play Captain Data at crowdedhour for the challenge of playing him. But mostly I like to treat Data Version 2.0 as that. Another version of Data, like another version of Zev from Lex.

I wish that they would have opened the role for another actor, ala Lexx, Doctor Who, or even Deep Space Nine. It would have been simple to transfer Data's memories from B-4 into a new android, and if given the choice that's what I would have done instead of taking the route that they did. It just heightened comparisons between Spock and Data, who are superficially similar in the precise manner of their speech but very different in goals and personality. On the whole, the new movie is good but the back non!canon for it was so terrible it made me resentful.

I rather liked the alternate future of him becoming a professor, myself.

Character: Data
Fandom: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Words: 498

[OOC] Thread List from Hearts and Minds

2010-05-25T08:01:11Z

Ask anything...

2010-05-10T05:54:38Z

I anticipate little harm in sharing.

OOC: Memes for when you're down

2010-04-29T01:51:59Z

ROLE PRAISE
♡♥ my thread! ♥♡

Quiz from 5th_doctor

2010-04-25T10:32:46Z

Your result for Awakening the Hero Within: Hero Archetype Test...

You are the Sage

58% Innocent, 46% Orphan, 79% Warrior, 79% Caregiver, 79% Seeker, 67% Lover, 46% Destroyer, 63% Creator, 48% Magician, 79% Ruler, 100% Sage and 13% Fool!

Goal: Truth

Fear: Deception

Response to Dragon/Problem: Transcend it

Task: Attain enlightenment

Gift: Wisdom, non-attachment

Addictions: Being right, tranquilizers

Sages have little or no need to control or change the world; they just want to understand it. The Sage’s path is the journey to find out the truth– about ourselves, our world, and the universe. However, it is not simply about finding knowledge, but about becoming wise. The challenge of the Sage is to decode the clue and solve the underlying riddle of existence. They seek to cultivate and attitude of dispassionate reflection so that they can experience real truth. The Sage merely watches the action, while looking for the underlying truth.

Shadow Sage:

The Shadow Sage is not so much unattached as cut off from reality. S/he is so obsessed by non-attachment that s/he cannot commit to people, projects, or ideas. Sometimes a Negative Sage deludes her/himself with the idea that his provides him/her with freedom, but s/he is not free at all. The negative Sage is addicted to being perfect and truthful and right and has no tolerance of normal human feelings or vulnerabilities. Such a Sage often tends towards ascetic practices and constantly derides the self or others for any sign of not being perfect.

Shadow Sages also tend to try to make the world seem less mysterious by limiting the number of acceptable ways of perceiving reality. Such individuals are also incapable of acknowledging the way that their own subjective biases colour their supposedly rational findings. Shadow Sages typically want to control knowledge in such a way that it is not threatening by focusing on a style that correspond to their learning style. Knowledge, then, becomes a way of showing superiority to others. Their primary focus thus becomes not on the attainment of wisdom itself, but on the evaluation of others. Whatever relative truth they have discovered is identified with absolute truth, and their primary focus is in guarding this truth from assaults by the barbarians.

Take Awakening the Hero Within: Hero Archetype Test at OkCupid

Prompt 005.3 for lightyearsahead

2010-04-25T09:16:55Z

3. It wasn't the first time Data had been in a similar situation, though he identified occurrences with less similarity than humans typically did. Their differences were glaringly obvious to him, though he could tell from the expression on Riker's face when he said, 'same old, same old' that the congruent circumstances were enough to be irritating for a human. Once again, they were in a cave. Once again, the walls were vibrating with some outside attack, bits of rock perilously slipping from the ceiling and goading Data to keenly watch his tricorder for any signs that the structural integrity was threatening to be compromised beyond repair. Once again, there were innocent colonists at risk because of some meaningless altercation.

The Breen were bombarding the surface of Tau Ceti IV with phaser fire. The Dominion War was still waging hot throughout the quadrant, and because much of their time had been preoccupied with the Borg this was the first instance they had been caught directly in a Dominion related skirmish. The colonists from the Federation Embassy that were the victim of the attack were still hunkering low, curled up against the wall, away from the middle and that falling debris, waiting for the threat to pass or a rescue to come so that they could be beamed out of their entrapment.

One of the most unfortunate things was the class of young children (it had been more of a daycare, actually, for the mothers whose children were just a bit too big to keep track of at work) settled by their teachers feet. Most of them had dirty cheeks now, rounded little faces tracked with rivers of tears.

This was different from the other times that he had been trapped. This time he felt something as he looked at those children confined with him.

Data scooted away from his commanding officer, letting Riker conduct his discussion with the colonist founder over relations with the Breen. A few processes took in what was going on there as he neared a little boy, a Klingon who was obviously doing his very best not to cry, doing his very best to be brave.

"Your parents will be very proud of you," Data said. Even if they were trapped out there, if the worst had happened, he assumed that the child had been told stories of Sto-vo-kor. He supposed he was correct, because the boy set his wibbling lip and lifted his chin proudly.

Encouraged vaguely, Data continued. "Who are your classmates that you need to protect?"

The boy sat up on his knees, looking at the other children. He pointed to a Vulcan first. "That is T'neth. She has the highest grades. It is most important to protect her."

T'neth's keen Vulcan ears caught his words. She was still too young to have mastered a lack of emotion, though she was trying. She had guiltily given in to the urge to curl against her teacher's side, and she looked strangely at the boy who had declared that she was the most in need of protection. "But I am stronger than the Human and Betazoid children, protecting me is not logical."

"Hey, I'm plenty strong," a spunky young blonde boy said, holding fast to a tribble toy he'd been clutching since they first left their room.

"And we need to protect our greatest advantage," the Klingon repeated.

"That's not fair, I'm smart too..." a freckle faced girl said, her strawberry blonde hair done up in two high buns.

"I didn't say that you shouldn't be protected too, Sue."

It seemed that he had opened a proverbial can of worms.

He pursed his lips, corners of his mouth turning down as he shifted to crouch closer to the group. "It is very important that you take care of each other."

"It is unessential for someone to take care of me," T'neth said, turning her face against her teacher's arm. Her teacher scowled at Data... briefly. Then she seemed to finally notice that the children had stopped crying in their distraction. The android's ploy to distract them in their time of fear seemed to have worked.

"I don't mind being protected." The red-headed girl scooted forward, and hugged onto the Klingon boy's arm. "Okay, Kothel, you can protect me."

Kothel, his name seemed to be, didn't quite no how to react. He just looked perplexed, and turned that look to the android as if he weren't sure what he was supposed to do when a human female held onto him. He supposed he should shrug her off, but he wasn't quite sure how to go about doing it.

"You must be very strong for her to agree to that," he said, a bit worried an angry reaction would set her back to crying. Again, he earned a preen out of the youth, and he donned his most serious expression.

"This is wise of you," he agreed to Sue, nodding firmly to let her know that he would defend her with all of his miniature warrior might.

"Ffff. You know, my dad, says that James Kirk, was tougher than any Klingon," the human boy countered.

"He wasn't logical, either."

"You're not logical."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"You don't make sense."

T'neth huffed, and rather than looking to Data, stared up at her teacher. The woman sighed, patting her head full of jet-black hair.

"Billy, stop teasing T'neth."

"You're supposed to tease Vulcans. It's good for them because it teaches them mag-ni-ni-ma-ni-ty."

"That was a very good try at a very large word," Data complimented him.

"I think he wanted to say magnanimity."

"I said what I wanted to say," Billy retorted proudly.

"No you didn't," a blonde girl in a brightly colored dress said, black eyes resting on him.

"Shush, Loraza shhhh!"

"There's someone coming, though." The girl stood up from her place, looking down toward where they'd entered the caverns. She started to wring her hands, before she hopped a little. "Someone's coming! Someone's coming and they're going to help!"

The little Betazoid had given them a true enough warning. Soon Geordi and Barclay came through, and both Riker and Data rose to their feet to go meet them. The children were clapping as if someone had just introduced them to their favorite educational holoprogram character, something that made Barclay awkwardly wave, grin hesitantly. Geordi flashed them a smile before he began to set up the equipment.

"How quick is that signal booster going to get activated?"

"Almost as soon as we get it turned on...." Geordi's stance wobbled as another round of fire rocked the surface. The integrity of the cave held, but the children sat.

All save T'neth. Who stood up, came closer to watch despite the teacher reaching for her, and took Data's hand.

He looked down at the Vulcan, who wiped the last of her fear from her eyes with a balled up fist. She watched Geordi and Barclay, engrossed, and even as they finished the final attachments they grinned at her. And at Data.

"You've always had a way with the little ones, Data," Geordi chuckled, and Riker smirked despite their circumstances.

"I find them easier to identify with." He managed to keep himself from going into a lengthy explanation by curling his fingers around the much smaller hand, giving her support as they prepared a way to transport them all to the ship. For a moment, he considered what an excellent crew her and her classmates would one day make.

Character: Data
Series: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Word Count: 1251

OOC Pimping

2010-04-10T03:29:26Z

And now, because I have not pimped this enough obviously (well, mostly I wanted to point this out to some of the Trek people on this friends list) I made a sci-fi prompt community, lightyearsahead.

Rules and application are on the profile. Anyone who wants to affiliate I am up for it. I just wanted to make a mostly sci-fi centric prompt community for those of us that like to do things in the spacey genres.

Data Clip

2010-03-24T07:17:33Z

Another of my favorite scenes. And one of the few where they show him going as fast as he can go. I expect the effects were too expensive to do regularly then.

Prompt 28-7-1 for just_muse_me

2010-03-15T11:26:32Z

1. FIVE regretful experiences

When I was a cadet attending Starfleet Academy I was also defining much of my behavioral protocols. I had recently been recovered and activated by the crew of the Tripoli and I had little basis of acceptable social behavior. My voice had more of a mechanical lilt and my movements were incredibly stiff and unnatural. It unfortunately led many students to the conclusion that I was not a sentient life form and they could make requests of me that were inappropriate. As my judgment was unfortunately poor at that relatively simplistic stage I frequently obliged these requests when I should have gone out of my way to discourage exploitative behavior.

I was eager to please and to learn from any experiences, and as any youth would in their development I erred in conduct.

On one of my first diplomatic missions I encountered a young woman named Ard'rian Mckenzie who had a special interest in cybernetics, and she seemed to be highly interested in me as we worked to save the citizens of her colony and encourage them to relocate. After our parting I did not keep in contact with her during the resettlement. Afterward the installation of my emotion chip I reflected upon our short acquaintanceship and found my thoughts far different than the course they initially ran.

I looked up her progress hoping to renew contact and perhaps derive something more than friendship, only to discover that she had married a scientist at the Daystrom Institute.

I am uncertain whether I regret searching for her, or whether I regret that I did not search for her sooner.

As I made a promise that I would not expose the full implications of the situation given the circumstances surrounding it, I will guard this with a lack of specification. I regret that my first intimate contact brought someone shame when it was the closest to satisfaction that I ever encountered prior to any conception of emotion.

Everything that I did under the control of Lore. I harmed those that were close to me, that were integral parts to my development. My counselor, my friend, and my captain all suffered at my hands. The fact that they forgave me, even if I were under a malevolent influence, is a rather profound example of their generosity. They've shown no hesitation in coming to my aid in such scenarios before or after, yet this time I believe I did not deserve such mercy or faith.

In contradiction, I also feel that I should not have done what I did to my brother. In retrospect, what he always sought was repair for his madness, and my ultimate reaction was to destroy him rather that treat him as a human with an ill relative would react.

I suppose this is a combination of regrets relating to the same incident. When the Scimitar was destroyed with me aboard, I did not leave adequate parting wishes with my crew. Not even Captain Picard, saw me immediately prior to being returned to the Enterprise. The logs of the crew taken after my destruction make note of my earnestness to perform the task rather than issue any farewells.

Before leaving, I gave B-4 my memories so that he would be able to form his own individual personality, and his programming would grow exponentially. Though rather than independent growth, his much milder, infantile personality was overwhelmed by the residue of my own. I took over his positronic net with no intention of doing so, and every time I recall one of his memories I mourn the man who failed to develop. He is as significant a lost to me as Lal was to me, and I am doubly responsible for it; he is the second brother that I killed.

ONE unforgettable one

I encountered three different temporal versions of myself due to the Manheim Effect. I had to negotiate which one of myself was the one that was in alignment with the device I needed to disable. It may seem as if it was not a profound accomplishment, but it took numerous processes and dedicated directives to determine which me should add antimatter to the system. Had I not, a new dimension would have torn through the Milky Way galaxy.

Character: Data
Series: Star Trek : The Next Generation
Words: 713

Quiz from faramir_hurin

2010-03-15T10:09:53Z

You Are the Fairy

You are charming, cheerful, and a little bit magical. You make other people's lives better.

You are a bit eccentric at times, but you truly care about people in your own way.

You are hyper and restless. It drives you crazy to sit still, and you are usually the first to leave any event.

You are unpredictable and flighty. No one can guess what you'll be up to next ... or where you'll be!

What Part of a Fairy Tale Are You?

Blogthings: We'll Tell You The Truth... Someone Has To!

I should endeavor to be a bit more like Puck in the future, then, if I were to choose a particular fae to emulate.

OOC: And he officially hates me...

2010-02-14T05:40:46Z

Stolen from faramir_hurin and 5th_doctor. The actual maker is here. So.... very wrong.

Stolen from 5th_doctor and Meme from charloft

2010-02-04T05:57:38Z

1. What have your characters done that has really surprised you (either pleasantly, or unpleasantly)?
Plenty of times. What usually surprises me is when they form friendships that seem to come out of left field.

2. How do you handle unexpected twists in character / plot / story?
It depends on the plot twist. I'm one of those players that likes to somewhat keep my character's emotions under control. After all, I'm emotional, I want to have a relatively good character and not play one that's constantly miserable. So if there's a sudden disagreement that seems out of place, I might talk it over with the other mun and backpedal so that there's not way too much drama. I've been turned off to characters before because someone has decided that their character is going to argue with/hate on them without giving me any warning or discussion.

3. What have you learned from those surprise moments?
Sometimes they can be good. Though if it's particularly good I probably don't remember it because I immediately dove plotting into it. I get really excited when someone offers to do something with one of my characters, like a dog offered a car ride.

4. Has a character surprise ever turned out far better than what you had originally planned?
A few times, yes. I actually think my last big plot tied up neater at the end than I thought it would, even with all the surprises and the fucking heartbreaking good-byes.

5. Conversely, has a surprise character twist ever really ruined everything?
Yes. Usually it's also related to either muns being busy with other plots though they initially committed to mine, or in extremely rare cases it's been pointed passive aggressive disinterest, rather than not admitting that they're into what's going on anymore. I try to constantly ask what most people are good with now.

6. How do you handle unexpected actions/interactions involving characters that are not your own?
Usually I don't care unless its something that tromps on my feet and there was an agreement to how things would go. Then I turn into a villain with a goatee and I start rueing at the sky.

7. To what extent do you allow characters the 'free will' to change/influence/alter their own stories?
It depends on how badly I want the plot to culminate. I can completely forsake a plot for character development, but then again if I'm not certain of the development I can just dive right back into the plot. Sometimes characters change their minds and it is sad. I note most mind changing happens after someone close to them is dropped by the mun or the the mun vanishes for a long period of time.

8. If you play a character who is canon to a television show / movie / book, have you ever been surprised by the direction the show/movie/book took the character? How did this affect your writing/playing of that character?
Yes. Though I prefer playing people who's canon is pretty much done.

9. If you play an original character, has the character developed in ways that surprise you, considering your original intentions at the time of character creation?
Yes. This happens to me frequently, though I don't play any of my complete OCs anymore. I want to preserve them to write later, and I felt like playing them was making me hostile toward them.

But the original RP offspring of different characters have surprised me occasionally. The Monkey King's Daughter was like I predicted, and Stef came out like I intended, but Tiberius flipped me off and went off on his own direction.

Data's Dewey Decimal Section:

411 Writing systems

Data = 4101 = 410+1 = 411

Class:
400 Language

Contains:
Linguistics and language books.

What it says about you:
You value communication, even with people who are different from you. You like trying new things don't mind being exposed to unfamiliar territory. You get bored with routines that never change.

Find your Dewey Decimal Section at Spacefem.com

Prompt 5.1 for achanceto_dream

2010-01-30T10:21:26Z

From Ten Forward there was always a view of the starfield outside of the ship. It wasn't exactly a "view" as it wasn't actually windows, but rather a series of view screens meant to emulated windows that recorded the passing of residual light the sensors detected from stars at warp speed, streaking across the detectable spectrum due to their varying wavelengths and the particular density, age, or type of the star in question. It made for interesting watching, as no matter how many times they traveled a route usually Lt. Commander Data would see a variance in position and spectral trail left by passing those celestial bodies. Today, they all looked the same. Every little dot leaving behind a colorful trail of the same shape, length, and set of colors. He could tell that it was abnormal, but at the same time it seemed perfectly acceptable. His arms were settled on the table in front of him, fingers twined as he sat facing that trailing starfield and wondered over it curiously.

"Data," Commander Riker announced as he took a seat beside of him. Steam drifted up from his cup of raktijino, fragrant and bitter. More bitter than Data would prefer, but even in the unpleasant sensation he drew valued experience; in annoyance and difficulty there was knowledge to be gained as well as curiosity that needed to be satiated (such as why such drinks were popular among humans whose taste buds weren't specialized to accept all the facets of the beverage).

"Commander?" he said, questioning more than greeting at the bearded man's presence. Riker just beamed a pleasant smile, flashing perfect white teeth and bright eyes that were just a little too kind for a casual conversation, and a dark brow climbed higher on Data's forehead as he regarded him.

"I just want to see how you're doing, Data. We've not really sat down and talked for a while."

"Does this have to do with the altercation with the Borg queen a few months back?" A few months. It took some effort not to say the exact time. Three months, twelve days, fifteen hours, four minutes, forty-three point zero two seven five seconds and counting.

"Not necessarily." Riker took a casual sip of his coffee. Data stared with that curious expression affixed to his face. The Commander stayed quiet for a bit, until his smile faded to something more muted.

"Maybe a little."

"I believe this discussion has already been held between the Counselor and myself, and unless she has broken ethical binds of confidentiality, which I find highly unlikely, I do not believe she would have had cause to solicit your aid in my emotional recovery."

"No, no..." He waved his hand dismissively, cutting Data off. A huff, and a pinched look and he was attempting to gather himself together. "It's different between a counselor and a patient. But this is man to man. Friend to friend. You weren't just kidnapped by the Borg, you were manipulated by a powerful woman, disfigured, used against your friends..."

Data returned a tight-lipped, sweet smile. "Thank you, Commander. I was not entirely aware if everyone knew the misfortune in the experience. I appreciate having the confirmation that they are aware of the unsavory details."

Riker snorted, looking down into his cup, seeking answers in steaming liquid. "Oh, no. He's learned sarcasm. Whatever shall we do?"

"There are several courses of action sir. I would recommend yellow alert to have everyone on stand-by."

"Don't push it, Data." He was still smiling, though. His humor hadn't completely failed.

Data looked back to that oddly monotonous starfield, trying to figure out why it was slightly wrong. Why it was out of place. "In truth Commander, while you might not understand the appeal, she was genuinely seductive. The Borg Queen's appeal was not in what she offered, but what she gave. No other individual, not even my own father, dedicated so much attention to making me as close to human as possible. But in doing so, in bringing me that much closer to an organic nature, she also removed me from it. While I understand that morality among humans is meant to maintain a social infrastructure and acceptability in the group, there is something admirable in its pursuit. It has made humanity adaptable, and the Borg do not even realize in their vast networked intelligence the subliminal and instinctual urges of mankind to form and maintain those groups are precisely why they covet their introduction into the collective. I nearly lost my connection to my group, and I felt morally inept for even remotely considering her offer. I experienced humanity, and briefly considered removing myself from it..."

Riker listened intently. He always had a way of looking at someone like he was faintly amused by them, by a friend, anyway (an enemy his eyes cut through like diamonds through glass). Not like he was dismissing their problems, but considering them with sagely experience beyond his years. "Data," he said, ever patient. Ever understanding. An older brother figure if there ever was one. "Humans can be tempted. In Christian folklore, they had a story involving a perfect society, Eden-" he held up a finger as Data started to open his mouth. "-Don't start without me. I know you know the story. You know every story."

With a small look of resignation, Data kept from interrupting. He was getting better about it, and he allowed Riker to continue.

"You were given a learning experience. She was the snake. Humanity was the fruit. You took a bite and now you're dealing with the consequences. But like Adam and Eve, you're not living in ignorance anymore. You know more about the world before you entered the situation..."

"You have a point, Commander..." Data observed, committing his words to thought. "I now feel a connection to humans that I did not previously have the capacity to relate to the intricacies of their sensations." Still, he felt a little guilt in that. Who had that original skin sample belonged too? What crew member donated their sclera and iris so that he might share his father's blue eyes? And now his artificial ones stung at the memory, pressure building behind them.

"Data? Are you-" Riker leaned in, squinting. Data sniffed and wiped at the corner of his eye with his thumb.

"I apologize, sir, I have little control over my emotional reactions when my emotion chip is fully active."

"No! No, Data, look!"

The android's gaze swiveled down to his thumb, to the bit of ink black liquid there. Again he reached up, swiped his eyes, and looked at the heels of his hands. Dark smears. No, not really liquid. Tears thick with nanobots. There were Borg nanites inside of him.

"Commander!" he started, standing up even as his C.O. moved back so quickly that his chair dropped onto its back and coffee spilled across the table, every bit as dark as those tears.

"Data! You need to get to engineering..." he said, pointing even as he tapped his comm badge. "Security! We need you in Ten Forward." It was about when the look of realization, of utter terror crossed Riker's face that he looked to the bar.

The entire back wall was pulsing with cords and dark structure, as if it had happened when their backs were turned. Guinan was standing their solemnly, her ever-knowing visage dead of that fascination and now just wires and unfortunate bits of remaining flesh that could only stare at them with an empty gaze. The doors to the turbolift opened, and Security entered. Rhythmically marching, and and as morbidly altered as Guinan. They headed for Riker rather than Data, only moving to deflect the android as he uselessly attempted to stop them from assimilating the first officer. Even as trails of pain crept under his skin, Data saw them oozing through the walls of the ship. They were turning everything black.

The stars in the starfield, they had all been the same. Even if they were supposed to be unique, they'd all been identical, and Data was helpless to change it.

Nyeeeoooww!

Data sat up quickly, as if someone had just tweaked his power switch. He never needed to react like that, but he'd always been anxious to get upright. On his thighs Spot had settled, swishing her tail and delivering a wholly indignant look.

There were no creeping lines of black disaster, or nanites pouring from his artificial tear ducts. It was a bizarre dream, and he was safely in his quarters surrounded by familiar things.

Nyeeauuoow! Spot insisted, putting her paws up on his chest. He put her down on the floor and leapt up in a near tangle of sheets, going to the computer console along the wall. “Computer! Bring up the view from the port bow.” Streaks of light and color filled the screen. Familiar, but not monotonous. Nothing connected to the terror that still had his artificial heart pounding.

"Yes, you will be fed," he assured Spot, sulking from where she was abandoned. "And I will make another appointment with the Counselor while you are enjoying your breakfast."

Character: Data
Fandom: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Words: 1,521
Prompt: 5.1 Color: Black

OOC: Hurr

2010-01-25T02:42:25Z

haughty_alpha pointed this out to me, and I thought I would share as an apology for being Agent 7272 with the Redundant Department of Repetition and Redundancy.

Father-Son bonding...

2009-12-25T03:29:03Z

Fatherhood had always been something that Data had looked forward to, on both a personal level and as a means of propagating the work of his own father. He wanted to create artificial life that was kinder, gentler, more understanding of humanity than what he'd seen of many of his own kind. Yet he'd left it to his human spouse to finalize the programming of his android offspring; to decide on his morality and skills.

All of which, outside of a generally invasive and system compatible nature, had to be taught.

Tiberius for the most part had become something of a duckling to Avon, and the fact that Avon had left him for the day had left the android in a state of distress as he was unsure of this mysterious interruption in his programming. Avon, as any human parent, surely had to be exhausted with the mental effort of keeping the boy's bottomless curiosity sated and even Data found himself near exasperation. But that was the point of parenting, was it not? And the point of a union was to provide one another with trust and assistance and understanding. Therefore Data had firmly demanded to Tiberius that he remain with him for the duration of Avon's absence in the cybernetics lab, and permitted no arguments out of the younger android.

And that younger android was pacing, from one end of the laboratory to the other. One end to the other. One end to the other. A pattern Data recognized, and all the tasks that he'd required Tiberius to do specifically were complete so he couldn't really impose any further obligations on him. "Tiberius, you are going to wear a hole in the floor," he finally informed him.

Tiberius stopped at that, cocking his head curiously. Deep dark eyes that were so similar to Avon's turned quizzical. "Father, it would take approximately fifty-seven years five months three days and nine hours of constant activity before the surface of the floor would begin to exhibit a corrosive effect from the friction induced my movement and weight."

"It is another figure of speech, Tiberius," Data said, peering into a particle analyzer. "Sometimes if a statement does not seem to adequately fit the given situation it is a figure of speech. Metaphorical ones can be especially confusing, and relate the current situation to another sometimes archaic ones."

"As a pot can not call a kettle black, as it lacks a mouth?" he asked proudly. Data smiled despite himself.

"Yes, Tiberius. And what manner of situation would that relate to?"

"A... pot does not necessarily meant that it will be black, but at one time the effects of soot on cast iron led both items to be black. So, a pot calling a kettle black would possibly pertain a sentient being noting something similar about another sentient being." Again, he looked quizzical. It was easy between the expression, and the muted fashion sense that so resembled Data's to tell the difference between his son and Avon. He was glad for the difference, and the similarity too, as it kept him from getting utterly frustrated (or quite as suspicious) than it would have if his child had borne his own image. He came to sit across from Data, folding his hands and watching his father work though Data's own eyes were occupied. "It seems to be used in a negative context. Why would one use a likeness between people as an insult when similarities between people usually denote a level of kinship."

"Because, Tiberius, the pot in the analogy is unaware that it is black, yet is reminding the kettle that it is also worn, sooty and old. The condition of both items as well as the context of the situation applies."

"That is not appropriate behavior for the metaphorical pot."

"No it is not."

He watched as the positron flow in a circuit increased. Too much, really. If he should one day construct another android, he wanted the flow to be perfect to host a human personality rather than adopt its own. Replicating human synapses was something that was proving more difficult than he expected, and as he'd refused to deconstruct his mother after her death he hadn't even Noonien's information to go off of.

When he looked up from the electron microscope, Tiberius had tilted his head, and was watching his father with an askew, doggish gaze.

"Are you going to replace me?"

Something clamped internally, and he swore he heard a faint grinding noise for the briefest of moments in his chest. Another lingering fear there, the one he always entertained, always allowed to follow him erupted. More uncertainly than he wished to sound, he responded. Enough that it caused an organic waver in his speech, stumbling over his tongue. "N-no, Tiberius. It would be impossible to replace you."

"But you replaced my predecessors. Lal, Jean-Luc, and Roj. I am their replacement."

"You are not their replacement!"

Tiberius sat up a straight, not understanding. Not knowing. Every bit of the child that Data had once been, and he shut his yellow eyes and gathered himself. This wasn't a human child. One day he would have emotions. One day he would look back on this incident and it would color his opinion and memories of his time with his parents, and furthermore even now a certain caution was being etched into his positronic net that might stop him from asking certain essential questions that he would need to become a functional and valued individual.

"Tiberius, you can not be replaced," he reasserted. "And I apologize for raising my voice." He pushed the viewer to the particle analyzer out of the way, his turn to lean forward with interest as he explained. "I once had a brother who had an unstable construction and emotional structure. My father deactivated him so that he could construct me and search for a correction in my brother's programming. Perhaps this was not the best course of action, as it could be interpreted that he produced one child simply to improve the function of another, or deactivated one in favor of another model. However, I feel that he cared for us both very much, and as any parent he wished to learn from his experiences and give us both a higher quality of life. My brother reacted harshly to the discovery and cost the entire settlement on Omicron Theta their lives."

Tiberius frowned, and furrowed his brow. Deepset eyes pondered, jerking as if accessing some deep program. "You are worried that I will act as my uncle did."

Data didn't respond to that at first. He seemed to find his fingernails far more interesting. And the sound of tapping them against the surface of the counter.

"Does that silence mean you do not approve of me?"

"No, no," Data shook his head, and found himself pinching the bridge of his nose in an automated, human way. As if it would relieve some tension that couldn't exist (though it did seem to improve his neural pathways and assist in concentration, perhaps Dr. Soong had at least replicated that). "I approve of you very much, and I wish you could have known your brothers. Having a family is very important, Tiberius, and you should not be suspicious of them."

"So if you construct another android, I am not to perceive him as a replacement?"

"I am not planning on constructing another android as an offspring, but if I were to you must perceive it as a brother. It would have difficulty in its initial functions. Do you recall learning to navigate your equilibrium so that you did not move so stiffly?"

"Yes." Tiberius nodded emphatically, as he felt something akin to pride, or perhaps some sort of satisfaction in his parents pride, at that.

"You would have to assist in his or her formative period. It would be your obligation as a sibling." Those who were ignorant of the past were doomed to repeat it. He couldn't keep his brother's history from Tiberius and merely hoped to dissuade the boy through rigorous demands that he not follow in his footsteps.

"My brother's name was Lore, and he hurt your father badly. He hurt my friends. He hurt my crewmates. He did care for me, however he concluded whatever should stand between him and what he wanted, the very least of which his own survival, should be eliminated in totality. You have been programmed by Avon, and I am uncertain of your moral proximity. Though if you choose your own, please remember that you have first and foremost a family to represent. An entire kind."

He reached out, smoothed his pale hands over Tiberius's hair to get it perfectly straight, giving him affection that he couldn't comprehend but he had every hope that he would later.

"You can live a very long time, Tiberius. Longer than any human. That means that you must also the respect the brevity that they are given to indulge in their experiences."

"Longer than Father Avon?" Another canid head-tilt.

"Much longer."

"I do not wish to live longer than Father Avon."

His mechanical heart wrenched again, this time in a completely different way. "There are more people than Avon and myself that may come to depend on you."

"Someone with a lifespan longer than that of a human?" Tiberius sounded almost... doubtful.

"They do exist."

"I am aware. Aunt Trance will likely outlive everyone we know."

"I hope so." For more reasons than one, Data did. "But some are less extreme in their longevity compared to hers. I once knew a Gallifreyan who referred to himself as the Doctor."

"Is he alive?"

Quietly. "Somewhere."

"What is a Gallifreyan?"

"They come from the planet Gallifrey, which lies outside of regular time and space in the constellation-" he started to finish, but then one of the finalized experiments demanded his attention. He turned away from Tiberius, and held up a finger signifying that he would need a moment. When he looked back, somehow his son had wandered all the way over to the other side of the lab.

"...Tiberius?"

Tiberius was holding the mould plate Data had used to set his head, putting it over his face for a moment, and then with a speed that Data could almost hope was the precursor to eagerness turned to his father. "If you construct a brother, Father, I promise I shall treat him more favorably than your own brother treated you."

He could only watch his son for a moment, for a too long expanse of time lacking in words to fill the space. He could recall when Tiberius was so much younger, when he stumbled against walls occasionally. When every statement was followed by Why? When it had to be explained to him that he couldn't simply interface with AIs to communicate his ideas because non-artificial life forms needed to participate in the sharing of information, and that verbal communication gave one time to consider their words. Though for that moment Data wished for a link so he could actually share pride with Tiberius. Perhaps he should start construction on an emotion chip for him. He seemed to have progressed quite a bit.

"...Go find Avon," he told him. "You have an uncle on his side, as well. I doubt that he has told you about him, he tends to be very private with that information."

“Why are you permitting me to go?”

“Do not look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“There is no horse-” And then he stopped, seeming to realize something about the statement. Again, with that same sense of anxiousness that he'd had in relation to his potential brother Tiberius went for the door, ready to soak up even more of Avon's time.

Character: Data
Fandom: Star Trek: TNG / Blake's 7
Words: 1,964
Notes: AU based off RP

Prompt November 3.B. for creative_muses

2009-12-14T23:47:44Z

3.B.) What do you think of cloning?”

I once had an interesting discussion with my father. I wished to know why it was that he had constructed me, and he sat me down and proceeded to assist me in working out the answer on my own. He pointed out to me that humans have not only a tendency to indulge in the past, but also wish to see themselves in their reproduction. It is a form of continuity, a sense of immortality.

This I learned before I knew the very unusual history of the Soong family.

Noonien Soong made many advancements in the field of cybernetics, but once he declared that he had the intention to create an evolving system based off positron flow as a vessel for artificial intelligence, the scientific community shunned him as being unrealistic and pursuing goals that had long been deemed impossible. But Dr. Soong fully believed that he was correct in his decision to press forward with his research and facilitated the construction of a scientific outpost on Omicron Theta. Perhaps his drive was not for the goal itself, but he refused to acknowledge the improbability as impossibility as he was merely doing what his father and his father's father and so on had done before him. He was producing an improved duplicate of himself.

In the year 2132, a leading geneticist named Arik Soong became senior medical director aboard Cold Station 12. He felt that he could assist in hastening the evolution of humanity in the way of Augments such as those made during the time of Khan Noonian Singh. After taking a number of embryos engineered in the 20th century and raising them as his own, he was forced to abandon them upon being apprehended and incarcerated for his crimes. Upon his release he attempted to reconcile and unite them, however during the time they were left to fend for themselves they had started to display the violent aggression typical of 20th century Augments.

At that point, Arik Soong turned his work to cybernetics in his desire to create a healthier, stronger, more intelligent human being (presumably without the foresight that after enough alteration the human being would no longer be markedly human outside of exterior appearance). He did not fully give up his practice of genetic research, and modified his own DNA to produce his first offspring, Sibahl Soong, who followed in his footsteps in both cybernetics and genetics. This illegal augmentation and reproduction continued until the time of my father, who produced both me and my brother in his own image. His own personal goals with my production seemed to be more closely related to that of a parent wishing to produce a child better than himself than it was to ultimately achieve the superiority and specific longevity desired by Arik Soong.

Thus I feel that cloning is little more than the reproduction of an image, and any attempt to recreate an individual is ultimately doomed to failure as input in a clone's development produces more of an impact than any amount of genetic or technical programming. Those alterations (or duplications) only produce a foundation of source material and say nothing for the final product.

However, if given the choice to construct another offspring, as with Lal I would not have it resemble me.

Character: Data
Fandom: Star Trek : The Next Generation
Word Count: 556
Notes: I was really busy last month and am slowly getting caught up on a prompt surge. I couldn't resist going back and doing this one.

empirical_data @ 2009-11-03T20:41:00

2009-11-04T04:44:24Z

Personal Log. Stardate 50893.5

I had been awaiting the Enterprise to intercept my distress signal and send a rescue party to my location. I was forced to seek refuge in a cabin in what appears to be the Appalachian foothill region after a failed away mission.

After a battle with the Borg, one of the ships imploding created what could be called a “temporal sinkhole” that the Enterprise was drawn into. We detected an unfamiliar technological signature far more advanced than was appropriate for the late 20th century time period the environment seemed congruent with, so Commander Riker arranged an away team to investigate. In the recesses of an abandoned coal mine we discovered an unusual species, notably aggressive and housed within metal husks that were vaguely cylindrical in shape. These containers tapered toward the top where they were covered with a dome, and were equipped with two protruding external devices. One seemed to be a device for grasping and investigation, and the other a weapon.

When these creatures were approached for peaceful resolution, they merely repeated the words "Exterminate" and immediately attacked several party members. The bridge crew in the party as well as three others were last seen prior to our dispersal into the caverns.

I was escaping as well and using my tricorder to triangulate one of the exits when the ceiling of my tunnel caved in. My comm badge and phaser were damaged beyond repair. I saved them for future disassembly and proceeded down the tunnel when I managed to free myself. Along the way, I discovered an unconscious man dressed in clothing inappropriate for the time period and unfamiliar physiology. A beige frock coat and a cricketers outfit that seemed to come from the early 20th century. Suspecting that he was a prisoner of the creatures I previously encountered and had been caught in a previous landslide during a escape attempt, I dug him out and removed him from the tunnel.

Upon exiting and traveling for about a mile, I discovered a cabin whose inhabitants supposedly were killed by the creatures. The bed was suitable for leaving the man in, and with further investigation I found he seemed to have suffered several broken bones and a traumatic head wound. I have set and treated his injuries and used the remnants of my phaser and communication badge to build a device to send a masked subspace signal to the Enterprise.

Personal Log. Stardate 50893.6

He is still unconscious, though his condition seems to be vastly improving. What appeared to be broken bones have fused overnight, and the head trauma is far less extreme. I was concerned that he would succumb to the incredible stress his body has undergone, but he appears to be healing at a rather dramatic rate. As I have been concerned for his welfare, it pleases me to know that immediate medical attention may not be necessary.

When I performed more extensive scans with my tricorder, other than a multi-layered brain and two functioning hearts he very much resembles a human in all other respects. There is the presence of an unidentified contagion formatted to his particular DNA pattern, which is unusual in itself as it is a triple-helix which has only been recorded in Species 8472. It should not be a threat to humans, and it appears to have no further negative affect on him. As it is, it seems to be going into remission.

I have received no communication from the ship, nor encountered any of the away team that accompanied me down. This may warrant another investigation of the mines. However, I will wait until the individual I discovered has regained consciousness or made a significant recovery.

Personal Log. Stardate 50893.7

I am contemplating turning off my emotion chip.

Without contact with the crew, I am experiencing a certain amount of distress that may impair my judgment and the effectiveness of my future actions. It may fall to me to extinguish the threat in the mines. It is my responsibility to preserve the future of humanity through whatever means possible, no matter what the consequences concerning myself might be.

I am still hoping that my patience holds out. I know little of this species and am unsure of how to combat them. The individual I discovered in the mines has increased brain activity though still appears to be unconscious. nonetheless, I have decided to speak to him regularly in hopes of receiving a response. There has been none thus far, but I have found having someone to discuss the situation at hand at (as with would not be a suitable choice of description) has been soothing to myself as well as potentially giving him sensory stimulus.

I discovered a violin in a chest beneath the bed I placed him in, and after proper tuning it has also been a welcome distraction. While I am aware a scouting party might become aware of my presence, my own need for calm has outweighed the distress induced by the mysterious metal creatures in the caverns below.

Personal Log. Stardate 50893.8

Again, there is no activity from the stranger. I began to suspect for the first time that he might have some direct involvement in the presence of the creatures, rather than be their victim. To verify the suspicion, I reached into his pockets only to discover that they were larger on the inside than they were externally. The intriguing phenomenon was also fruitful in supplying me with additional parts to my transmitter, though I will have to apologize for the trespass when I have the opportunity.

I also was able to construct a rudimentary bomb using components from my arm and a volatile substance that supplied power to what appeared to be a tool of some sort. It would at least be effective in collapsing the cavern if I reach the deepest recesses and halting any further progress from the invading race.

There was also, strangely, a cricket ball in the pocket, and underneath his sweater question marks on his suspenders.

I at first thought they might have been another symbol not in English, though the resemblance to that particular form of Romanized punctuation is striking. I still acknowledge that it could be a representative shape indicating a name, rank, or race. Perhaps he is simply a genetically modified human. He mentioned the name 'Perry' as he slept, though I have no idea what significance this might hold.

Personal Log. Stardate 50893.9

I turned myself off for a diagnostic that lasted approximately thirty-five minutes and forty seconds. I awoke to discover that he was gone, as well as my hastily constructed bomb. Driven by curiosity, I left the cabin to return to the mines, which seemed to have been collapsed at all of the entrances- suggesting that a successful detonation had occurred.

I have since returned to the cabin and increased the frequency from my communication device to incorporate all channels. I am hoping that the signal will be intercepted soon, as the violin is poor company.

I also hope the gentleman was not harmed in the blast. He unfortunately left his ball, which I am debating taking with me should an away team arrive soon. Though I would much like to return it to him in person.

Character: Data
Fandom: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Word Count: 1,221

Meme from _call_me_snake_

2009-09-28T19:50:20Z

A. "Has my portrayal of a character(s) changed the way you think of him/her?"

B. Pick one of my characters and I'll answer the following questions about him or her.
1. What would your character kill for? What would they die for?
2. What would they refuse to do under any circumstances? Why?
3. What do they dream about?
4. What’s their biggest fear?
5. What single object would they be most hard pressed to part with? Why?
6. What is their fondest memory?
7. What is their worst memory?
8. What or who was were their most significant influence? Expound.
9. What do they believe makes a successful life?
10. What makes them laugh?
11. What are their religious views?
12. What is their greatest strength?
13. Do they have a fatal flaw? If so, what is it?
14. Who is the most important person in their life?
15. If they died, who would miss them most? How would they die?

C. Pick a fandom, any fandom I'm in. I will tell you:
1. One True Pairing Ship:
2. Canon Ship:
3. "If this happens I'll stab my eyes out with a spork" Ship:
4. "You are one sick puppy" Ship:
5. "I dabble a little" Ship:
6. "It's like a car crash" Ship:
7. "Tickles my fancy but not sold just yet" Ship:
8. "Makes no canon sense but why the heck not" Ship:
9. "Everyone else loves it but I just don't feel it" Ship:

Star Trek:
Data | empirical_data
Lore | silicon_avatar
Spock | commander_spock
Gary Seven | beta_five
Elim Garak | cardassian_spy

Red Dwarf:
Arnold Rimmer | arnold_j_rimmer

Blake's 7:
Dayna Mellanby | mellanby

Doctor Who:
The Seventh Doctor | dominie

Marvel:
The Punisher // Frank Castle
Doctor Octopus // Otto Octavius

Men in Black:
Agent K | most_feared

Ghostbusters:
Ray Stantz | dr_ray_stantz

Retired characters omitted....

OOC

2009-09-27T20:23:13Z

I am Become Death - Franklin Thatcher

This story is about how after hundreds of years, Data developed his own emotions without use of his emotion chip, and to remedy his loneliness he builds more androids. And those androids end up overrunning the Galaxy and he grows to resent them, especially the ones that had never actually met humans.

This is a good solid case of love love love the premise of a story, hate hate hate how it's written. It's got a few descriptive issues I can't get behind, and some phrasing I find questionable. But that can be argued away as Data becoming a more organic thinker. My biggest problem with it is that it's in first person, and that's flat out silly from the perspective of a being with sixty trillion thought processes a second.

But still, the premise is good, I actually feel bad for at least one of his children, and it's a great example of him becoming more time intuitive. I actually prefer this to the crap that I thought "Star Trek: Countdown" was.

The file is a .cbr file, meaning you either need CDisplay or ComicRack. If you have neither, then download and change the file extension to ".zip" and unzip it to view the JPegs straight.

Meme

2009-09-14T03:44:25Z

RP SHIPS MEME V.O2

I think I did this once before but deleted for... whatever reason. Forgetfulness, maybe.

creative_muses | Sept | 5 | D

2009-09-02T09:17:52Z

Shore leave was an exciting time for most of the crew of the Enterprise. Most of which with the exception of Data, who found himself dutifully manning the bridge with one other security officer and someone at ops. He didn't complain, though. While he enjoyed the curiosity of interaction between inhabitants and guests, he didn't quite have the desire (with or without emotion chip), to partake of the more carnal activities.

It was Monday night as well, and he was settled into the captain's chair shuffling a deck of cards between his hands. It would have been poker night, if everyone wasn't planetside. But now it was just him and a few straggling officers to keep the peace aboard a starship.

"You look bored," an unexpected feminine, tart voice said off to the right of him.

Data's reaction was quick, a quick headjerk to stare at the sudden presence of a strange woman who he didn't recognize from any of the crew files. Human, apparently, with neatly curled blond hair done up in complicated braids, bright blue eyes, and oddly muted clothes like a scientist colony citizen would wear. She sat with her feet curled under her in the chair usually reserved for Deanna, and continued to regard the android as if she were utterly entertained by the mere sight of him. The security officer at his station drew his phaser, and looked as if he were attempting to get a stunning shot out even before Data could say the words "hold your fire".

It didn't matter, because he tapped the weapon against his hand in irritation, then eyed the woman cautiously.

"Did you beam aboard the ship? If so, I must ask you to leave. Only command personnel should be in-"

"Oh shush," she scolded, batting his shoulder almost playfully. "I've heard stories about you and couldn't resist the opportunity to meet you."

"Many have heard stories of me, but you must have also heard that I am a loyal Starfleet officer and feel that rules are extremely important."

"Too many rules, Mr. Data, and something is bound to go wrong. I'm sure you know the origins of playing cards?"

"I do, however you seem to be attempting to deter my efforts to remove you from the bridge-"

"Of course you do, silly me," she folded her arms on the back of Troi's seat, leaning her head against it as if it were a pillow and evaluating Data carefully. "You remind me of the magician, if you were in the old deck. You have that air about you. You accomplish the impossible. I like that in a person, it makes them tricky."

"I am not tricky." He almost scoffed at her, but caught himself. Her distractions were easy to see past, mostly.

"Oh, Mr. Data, you're very tricky. I bet people have you all figured out and then you throw them for a loop just because you know what you want and when you want it and you'll do what you have to do to get it."

"That is-... not necessarily true. I do not require-"

"-Very much at all, do you? But when you do, you won't take no for an answer."

The young Vulcan at ops turned in her chair, glancing between the two of them. "Should I make an attempt to assist in her removal, sir?"

"No, I will escort her off myself if necessary," Data responded, placing the cards in a neat pile against the chair as he prepared to stand. Then his attention turned back to the blonde, who might have been fairly pretty if there wasn't something vaguely menacing in her abrupt grin that immediately caused him hesitation. Not the sort of smile that a woman would use in courting a man or expressing adoration, but a sort of predatory grin that flashed white teeth and made her eyes crinkle far too much at the corners. His brows rose slightly as he took in the look, and he found himself swallowing down a ball of artificial apprehension that stuck thickly in his throat.

"Leave him alone, Murphy."

The other surprising voice was more familiar, and Data swiveled to look the other way, hands gripping at the armrests of the captain's chair. Q lounged in Riker's place, wearing a gaudy dress uniform and countering the expression of sinister cunning with his own casual, unimpressed air he seemed to have about everything and everyone.

Save Picard, of course.

"How can I? He's one of the ones you like so well."

"He's a poor child! Leave him alone. He still thinks that humanity is an asset to the universe. Let the boy dream. Sometimes dreams are all we have."

There was a clatter as the security officer dropped his phaser, staring with wide eyes at the legendary adversary he'd only heard stories of. Then he tapped the security relay.

He furrowed. And then he tapped it harder. And then he hit it with a balled fist.

The Q craned his head back, watching with a pursed expression. Data simply set his face sternly, choosing another tactic. "The Captain will not be happy with your presence."

"He's never happy with my presence. Spoiled sport."

"Perhaps I should go find him, then," the woman he'd identified as Murphy argued, though still smiling wryly. And she wrinkled her nose and bit her lower lip up between her teeth.

"Oh no you don't!" Q snapped. "You get that thought right out of your head. You leave them both alone, or I'll-"

"You'll what? Go to the Continuum? We already know what they'll say to that. But-" she reached over, cupping Data's jaw in a tight, one-handed grip and squeezing his cheeks patronizingly. "I can see why you wike him soooo much, he is soooo kyewwwt."

Data found it very difficult to hold the defiant expression at her behavior, brows knitting up though he pliantly allowed himself to be maneuvered. He supposed if one could goad the Q into appearing, it wasn't particularly the wisest of plans to openly resist them until he knew more.

"But I suppose I can let you have this one. I could have gotten so much done with him, too..." And then she was gone, with a flash of light that nearly had him teetering off to the side in the chair. Quizzically, he turned back to the Q.

"May I ask who that was?"

"Ignore her. She always whines when she doesn't get what she wants and then makes it hell for other people to get what they want. She's whatever she likes to be called; Murphy for the moment." He patted Data's shoulder. "I'm sure eventually she'll catch me too busy to be watching, but she should know better than to play in my space."

With that, before Data could even argue another point, he was gone. And the android was left exchanging glances with a woefully confused Vulcan navigator who was doing her best to keep her composure maintained.

He would be polite and not tell her that he noticed.

"I can't contact the surface!" The security officer complained in irritation, motioning at his station. "I can't figure out what went wrong!"

Data flicked a wide-eyed, pondering view at the distant wall. "Whatever can go wrong, I believe would be the correct assumption."

Character: Data
Fandom: Star Trek : The Next Generation
Words: 1,219
Prompt: Murphy's Law

OOC Hearts and Minds Request

2009-08-25T04:21:25Z

When I joined hearts_andminds, there was a very communal atmosphere to the RP. Even when people didn't get along quite so well, they attempted to respect each other. They realized that this was for fun, and that it was an escape from real-world dilemmas.

It's getting to the end of summer, and between stress from jobs and school and illness and already existing stress from an economy that makes some of us want to bash our faces against the wall a lot of us are really feeling the pressure. So the thing that's supposed to make you happy stops making you happy anymore, and it starts wearing you down and sometimes makes you downright snippy and hostile.

I suppose it goes without saying that an online community should be a place that you're happy to return to rather than a place where you say, "I'll deal with this later." And I think it comes down to fundamental respect of other people's viewpoints. It shouldn't really be that hard to take a step back and go, "This is where this person is coming from, I will try to understand it, and if I can not, I will go have a cookie and beverage of choice and re-evaluate my opinion on the matter."

This is really, really hard to do when your under stress because your brain is in self-preservation mode.

I've come to really love some of the players here, and in the past I've seen some incredible displays of organization and cooperation. It's been really, truly impressive, but it seems that in some cases we've become impatient. We're upset if we're not informed of something or we're upset because we're overwhelmed or something else is going on.

I think in some cases it's lessening some players' enjoyment, and they in turn get impatient, and it's not a very good cycle. Especially to those who have had far too much out of character drama. This community, when I joined it, had a lot of people who were trying to get away from just that. So even if we don't like a person's style of RPing, we can afford them an email if something you do might indirectly affect their character, and likewise I would like to think we could forgive them or politely ask for a reconsideration (or retcon if it's important enough) if they happen to forget.

I don't mean to be accusing in this at all. I've forgotten to get in contact with muns myself, and I've gotten frustrated more than once. I think that maybe some of us need to take a step back and consider the other perspective occasionally. I would really like to continue playing without being constantly concerned about offending someone. I'm really worried about losing both my enjoyment and some of the players that I've come to adore who are experiencing similar dissatisfaction.

Also, forgive any of my typos. I have the chronic inability to notice them myself even if I reread before posting.

Prompt 2009-27-C-1

2009-08-21T05:54:01Z

Character: Data
Fandom: Blake's 7
Words: 4,546
Notes: I was wanting to do a crossover of some sort anyway, so I wrote up a scenario for him to exist in the Blake's 7 universe. And then he briefly ran into Servalan. Majority takes place in the same timespan as Headhunter.

000109.82 from Incident...

"Juliana!"

Noonien's voice rose as he slowly made his way through the darkened laboratory, the floor only lit by frayed wires. "Juliana! We have to leave right now! Where are you!"

He pushed over a large piece of metal panel that had fallen, and then peered under a half-fallen machine with a back-aching grunt. No sign of her. He missed his younger days, when he could get around with little trouble.

"Data! Do you see her anywhere?!"

"No, father!" a youthful echo of his own voice came back to him. His vision had deteriorated in his older years, but still the bright, pale gold skin of his android son was easy to make out from across the room, straining to move another heavy machine.

But then his offspring stopped, and was staring down at something, and let the huge hunk of sparking metal and wires drop off to the side.

"Data, what is it?"

The android was still silent for another second. A second too long, Noonien thought to himself, knowing full well all the introspective thought the android could manage in that short time. He turned from whatever he was looking at. He approached his father, stooping to his side.

"Father, we need to go now..."

"But... Juliana-"

The android frowned, his face flinching sadness as he shook his head. He didn't have the time to entertain the emotion, or explain more than that gesture.

"Go..." Noonien argued, wincing and motioning toward the door. "Go, Data! Go...."

Not without her. He could have endured any hardship in the world, but not without her.

"But... Father..." Data argued, reaching to take Noonien's upper arm.

"NO!" The offered hand was shaken off, and Noonien's voice cracked with effort. "I'm dying already, Data. The Federation's coming. You have to leave, or they'll use you. The other colonists are already hiding or escaping."

He looked into Data's aching gold eyes with his own blue ones. Funny, how he'd never noticed how expressive they could be behind the flat, smooth yellow. He'd never seen them under this kind of strain. He touched the young man's cheek, the texture rather sort of buttery smooth but without the lingering feel of oil on your skin afterward.

Data really was a masterful achievement. A striking opposition to every pain and hardship he'd seen in the world. He gave him a lingering, proud, paternal look; looking at him, rightfully, like it would be his last chance to see him.

"You have to download our logs and leave. Download, and destroy all the research..."

Data worked his mouth, trying to fathom an argument to convince his father to leave. The trickling water he could hear in the distance. The crumbling bits of still electrified machinery. It wouldn't be long before the building collapsed in on itself.

Instead, he finally nodded and pulled away from the older man. If nothing else, Noonien was stubborn. Fighting him would likely damn them both.

Noonien watched him hook himself into the furthest computer panel. Good boy. Always my pride and joy... he thought to himself. He sat down on an outcropping of what used to be his bookshelf, entertaining another aged ache. It's alright, body. You won't have to put up with this too much longer.

"Data, you'll remember to do regular diagnostics, right?"

"I have them scheduled, Father," he responded without looking.

"And you'll make sure you eat everything that'll help you and occasionally-"

"Father! Yes, I will!" Data ducked his head. Some shamed part of Noonien was glad of this. His emotions were working. He was a person, capable of love and hate and fear. But he was causing him pain, wrenching the family he'd known his whole life away from him.

"Data, hurry. There's not much time."

He unhooked himself from the machine and ran back to his father, leaning in to hug the older man quickly. Even that was a little uncomfortable, but Noonien accepted the gesture, patting his son's arm. "Go," he repeated. "Go on..."

Then, just like that he was gone. Out the door, and off to the escape pod (or so he hoped). Juliana was never quite certain he'd turn out, not like after what happened with the first android they had completed. But he had to believe Data would persevere. That all his hard work would pan out.

The old man adjusted himself, sitting and contently listening to the snapping sparks and dripping water elsewhere. Listening as information was destroyed and obliterated. Listening as he heard the ships break through the atmosphere, both coming and going.

His eyes trailed to the far end of the room, to where Data had found Juliana. "I'll be right there, dear," he sighed. "Sorry you've had to wait so long..."

The sounds of troopers bursting through the doors followed shortly (or an eternity, as it felt to the cyberneticist). His blurry, old eyes could barely make out their dark clad forms sloshing through the water, but he recognized the sounds of their rifles being raised. He grinned wryly, knowing exactly what the troopers would do, but you could hardly even tell the expression was a smile in his old age. The first that drew his attention, though, was an old Space Commander. Haggard and scarred, obviously a man who had been in the service of the Federation since before the recent administrators took over.

"What took you?"

"Where is it!?" Space Commander Hartnell demanded. They all knew what the scientific colony on Omicron Theta had produced. Discrete, disguised as a farming community, it had gotten by for quite a while. But now Commissioner Sleer knew that there was something here.

That didn't mean Sleer would get it should the Commander find his prize. It could always be missing, when they returned to report the scenario to the Commissioner.

"Over there..." Noonien nodded toward that far end of the room. A moment after the words left his lips, he was thrown back by a blast to the chest.

"What are you doing!" Hartnell snapped at his trooper, shoving the rifle down and giving him a harsh look.

"They- ...well he said-!"

"He could have been lying!" he continued as harshly, but stomped off in that direction. Then slowed as he neared the pile of fallen equipment. His hand came up to cover his mouth, brow knitting as if he'd seen something horrifying.

The other troopers edged closer, peering around their superior for a better look. And they found a crumpled body on the floor, crimson seeping into the water. A huge piece of ceiling crushing down on what was an older woman's skull..

No, not an older woman.

An android.

Sparks flickered from the shattered metallic skull, the contents destroyed as the body twitched faintly. Obviously, that brain (before being utterly shattered) had been very advanced.

"...What was that old man doing here..." the commander asked aloud. Then looked up as a crackling, loud mess of sparks raining down.

He barely had time to look down at the five inches of water he and his troopers were standing in before the power conduit fell.

004621.05 from Incident...

The space station wasn't quite as pristine as the one that served as her primary base as Supreme Commander, but it could be considered adequate.

Servalan did not approve of merely adequate.

Commissioner Sleer, she supposed, had to be more frugal. At least from outward appearance, and make use of whatever was supplied to her. That was what one had to do when they assumed an identity, and that was what Servalan excelled at even when she wasn't necessarily claiming herself as Servalan. She stood at one of the windows, her arms crossed over her chest, her loose hanging dress caressing her curves in ways that drew glances from passing troopers. Glances that she pretended to take no notice of, but was keenly aware of. Men stationed out in space with the hollow husks of mutoids often found themselves at a loss around a strong, confident woman.

Just the way she preferred it. And if she had her way, any and all women that might provide her with some competition were swiftly dealt with and sent to the furthest recesses of the Federation. It was simply more to her advantage to remain surrounded by sexless drones.

She did, after all, have to remain the queen of the hive.

Though she wasn't merely standing in the corridor to taunt men for attention. She was waiting on some troopers in particular. She could see their ship docked, but they were taking entirely too long to come and tell her what exactly had occurred on the mysterious planet of Omicron Theta. Of course, this could only mean bad news.

There were many privately sanctioned science colonies out there, but they had all come to the Federation's attention at least once. Somehow Omicron Theta had slipped under the radar, until an enticing subspace message informed her that a supposedly long dead renegade scientist had achieved the impossible. He'd made a fully functioning positronic brain, with the ability of circuit influence, probability functions, potential for almost unlimited growth, and functioned as a major information repository.

She could do so much with something like that. Like an omen that she need not deal with those troublesome miscreants who'd made off with Ensor's creation any longer. Despite her interest in Avon, she found she would much rather see him pitifully foaming at the mouth to get his hands on her valuable new asset. To give her that one last advantage over him, until she finally broke that last little stitch of pride left in him.

If they came back empty handed, she was going to be sorely disappointed.

She frowned as it was Belkov who approached her. He'd been her first choice to send to the planet, as he had the technical expertise to identify the validity of Noonien's work. She stood up a little straighter, lifting her chin in characteristic self-assurance and looked down her finely pointed nose at him.

"Commissioner," he said hesitantly as he approached her. "We... we found something... but-."

"If I were you, I would make this venture sound as successful as you possibly can, because I have little use for men who don't live up to their highly over-stated credentials."

He almost argued back, but held his tongue. Just like a good little dog, she thought to herself, and her expression settled to a realm between sultry and narrowed.

"We found an android. We might be able to discern limited information on its construction based upon what we discovered in the remains of Dr. Soong's lab. Your men got a little trigger happy during the attack, and caused wide-spread damage to the colony site."

"My men?" She scoffed. "Belkov, when they were with you, they were your men, and your responsibility. I expect you to answer for them. Every severed circuit and lost byte of information. Did any of the colonists escape?"

Belkov swallowed again. He was trying so very hard to keep his sturdy exterior. The poor dear, she thought mockingly to herself. It was almost time for a bit of mock sympathy.

"Yes, Commissioner. There were two escape pods, and a hijacked Federation transport."

That drew a furrow between her finely arched brows. "Hijacked? By who?"

"We don't know. Hartnell's men were electrocuted in Soong's lab. Whatever survivors we found we've drugged and had brought."

"Excellent. I want them stripped for information however you can manage. And if you can find the individual that sent me that signal, I would very much like to meet them."

"Yes, Commissioner," he responded, turning on his heel and quickly leaving.

Servalan's eyes darted, her expression still curious. A hijacked Federation transport meant there was some chance the ship could be tracked. Even with the dispersed government since the Galactic War, she could string together enough information to scrounge up the flight path.

She made her way back to her office, settled behind her desk and paged the mutoid in charge of her personal affairs.

No one would be that obvious. No one in a colony renowned for its intelligence, anyway. Someone was leading her along, and it had her extremely intrigued.

012709.02 from Incident...

"He's still refusing to speak to us," Anne said, staring at the view screen. The technician pursed her mouth into a displeased expression, arms crossed in front of her as she looked over the android. He had once spoken, but now he didn't even allow them near him. The most they could do was restrain him, in a separate quarantined room with no windows, no implements he could utilize to escape, and no interaction with any of the personnel.

"Of course not," Muller protested. "He was expecting assistance, and look what we did to him."

He had been one of Ensor's brightest students, and his study had yielded the greatest results. But even he knew that creature in there was beyond anything he'd explored in his studies.

When the Robot Development Cartel had intercepted the pod from Omicron Theta, they had not considered the options. Noonien Soong was considered something of a madman, and they certainly hadn't expected him to yield any results. He'd ignored all of Ensor's studies. Disregarded every robotic principal known. He'd waged preposterous theories concerning the decay of positrons and their use in artificial intelligence. It was all wild conjecture and speculation.

Somehow, he produced something, and now it was sitting petulantly in a lonely room, glaring at the wall opposite of it.

"He came to us for help," Muller said thoughtfully, an almost empathetic look crossing his face.

The older woman tapped a heeled shoe against the floor impatiently, as if her displeasure at the android's silence and lack of cooperation would somehow filter through the wall and influence it. The muscles in her jaw strained with a thick swallow, burying as much of the tension as she could.

"We are going to have to find a way to implement power shocks. If we can overload him, perhaps that will give us a chance at disassembly."

Muller frowned. This was someone's life's blood. More importantly, he had beaten the odds and proved himself right. That had earned Muller's respect, anyway. He could only imagine what he would feel were his work treated in such a disrespectful, uncouth manner. "Do what you will," he grumbled, turning away from the woman and walking off toward the exit doors.

He was very glad at that moment that he'd made the agreement to join the rebellion. Blake's men, even without the aid of their fearless leader, were legendary. Were he able to finish his android in time for the arrival of the Scorpio, it would be prime to combine with Ensor's creation, Orac. It was a major flaw in Orac's design that the computer lacked mobility. It couldn't escape on it's own if necessity required it to. But the android he'd made, though not as elegant as some of the more organic constructions he'd seen produced in the facility, was specifically built to incorporate elements of Orac into himself eventually.

He only had a few hours. He had intended to tell Anne of his departure, but given her recent behavior he had changed his mind.

So busy were Muller's thoughts that when the door to his laboratory slid open shock slid up his spine and his eyes went wide. He tried to yell, but before the sound could leave his mouth two massive hands grabbed either side of his head, and he went stumbling into the room.

012732.02 from Incident...

Data remained quietly in his place, picking up the sounds of raised alarms though he didn't move. At first, anyway. Not until the door to his cell hissed and the vacuum seal broke.

He glanced over, gold eyes swiveling as his expression remained flat. He stood, adjusting his ill-fitting gray jumpsuit. A flicker of the lights overhead was met with an avian tip of his head, a curious glance upward.

The station was under some sort of attack.

The door opened a tiny bit, and Data took a step back, poised for more security to attempt to incapacitate him. If they were anything like the last batch, they would be rethinking their occupations.

A figure passed by the door, the shadow visible through the crack, and then a bracelet rolled in along the floor.

Data approached the bracelet slowly, toeing it with his shoe. He wasn't entirely sure where it had been acquired from. There was a small, tinny voice coming from it. Uncertain sounding. It was met with a confident one.

Then they mentioned Muller.

Data picked up the item and turned it in his hands. Rather than putting it on, he opened up the portion to the communication device, eying the contents and then plucking loose a few stray chips.

Chips that he one by one shoved unceremoniously into a panel in the palm of his hand.

Some human mimicking impulse made him breathe in sharply through his nose. His eyes fluttered shut as he honed in the location of the ship, brow even tensing slightly.

Scorpio.

The ship that was now being used by Blake's men. The Liberator had been destroyed (or stolen, or left adrift, or crashed, it depended on the unreliable account). Why were they here for Muller?

Coordinates, Planet Xenon : 02.664.995.2

His eyes snapped wide, intercepting transmissions from the computer on board. There was something wrong. If he rushed, he could attempt to follow them stealthily toward their destination. His escape pod was still docked somewhere nearby. If he were able to assist, perhaps they would be willing to assist him.

Though he wasn't left with much time to try and discern who had left him the gift. It could have easily have been Federation operatives, working discretely within the Robot Development Cartel. Even if so, he couldn't waste the effort to make a distinction. Lives were at stake. The Omicron Theta data had to be transported to a more reliable location. He would have to keep an eye out, and hope that he didn't inadvertently lead the rebellion to damnation by revealing the location of the rebel base.

Data ran out into the hall, thrusting his hand into the nearest console and sinking his fingers into the circuits. Maps of the facility, copies of the current alerts and signals flashed in front of his vision. Finding the optimal path back to his pod (which he confirmed was still intact), he jogged off to find the docking bay.

Fortunately, security seemed to be redirected toward Muller's lab, which meant he would have a clear path.

012724.02 from Incident...

Anne's panic grew as she received the technician's report. It hadn't even been an hour since she talked to Muller, and now he was gone. His head was gone.

That damned project of his must have caught up with him.

Not only that, they were receiving a signal from an incoming Federation ship. Commissioner Sleer was going to be landing soon, apparently having tracked another ship to their docks.

She pushed away from the console, and put on her best matronly expression. It was entirely too soon to be dealing with this nonsense, not while-

Her face fell blank as she looked to a monitor. He was gone! Someone had let the android out.

She grabbed at the console, turning on more alarms and patching into security. "Security! Soong's android is loose. He must take priority!"

Her hands fumbled for more controls. Opening the docking bay for the incoming Federation ship, sending more officers to guard the hangar. Never mind that fool Muller. He was dead and gone, his own insatiable pride having finally been overrun by his own creation. For all she knew, Soong's android could have used the beast to facilitate his own escape. They could be together, at that very moment.

That was what she was going to assume, and she swiftly left to meet their visitors.

012724.05 from Incident...

Data ducked behind his escape pod, quietly waiting as the Federation ship docked. He flattened into the shadows beneath it, though if one were to look especially close, he wasn't particularly well hidden. He could at least make the attempt, though, watching as the troopers descended from the ship, following another man to meet with security officers at the hangar doors.

He had been lucky enough to beat most of the security there, but they would soon be looking inside of the docking bay for him. He wouldn't be able to continue skulking around as he was indefinitely.

His gaze shifted to the steps of the Federation ship. Yes, that would do nicely.

Keen hearing caught a familiar, sanctimonious voice he'd come to loathe speaking with one of the Federation officials. His name was Belkov, apparently. Whatever it was, it mattered little to him, and he made a quick sprint to the ship.

The two mutoids in the cockpit looked over their shoulders in surprise at the sudden presence, which led to the android freezing in place. He'd never actually seen one before.

They looked... “fake”.

Which was an odd concept, coming from an artificial being, but there was something profoundly unnatural about them. Even in the way they moved, the way they stood. More like manufactured dolls. He couldn't help but ponder it as the first stood, drawing her gun.

Unreal, but still not as quick as him.

He snatched the weapon from her hand. Normally, he would have tried for a non-fatal injury. After all, his father had taught him to appreciate life in all of its forms. But these things had given up their lives to pursue service in the Federation. He used her own gun against her, and was easily able to move out of the way of the shot the other fired.

He slung his gun over his shoulder, and started to stoop and grasp one of the mutoid bodies under its arms, when he heard the faint click of heeled shoes behind him.

Releasing her, he spun in place, gun drawn. Another woman was standing there, casting an analytical dispassionate glance toward the mutoids, a small, refined weapon held loosely in her grip. Short hair, shocking make-up, and elaborate dress.

"Oh, you are very good, aren't you?" she commented casually, following the statement by wetting her lips, her tongue faintly visible for a moment. Like a cat eyeing a mouse. Or what she supposed was a mouse. "You are capable of independent thought, aren't you?"

"Very..." he responded. "And it is highly probable that I will be faster with the weapon I am holding than you are with yours. I politely request that you vacate this vessel."

She tilted her head, as if someone talking to her in such a way were novel. "You are Soong's android. Every bit the enigma that I was informed of. Compassion on top of logic. You would think your creator would have given your sense of self-preservation priority in these times."

"My father gave me what I needed," he countered, a little short at having Soong's decisions called into question.

“You call him your father? Do you have a name?” she asked.

“Data.” Though he didn't wish to get to know this woman well, and he was aware that he was pressed for time.

“I'm Commissioner Sleer.”

“And I am afraid my I have fairly urgent priorities that do not lend to copious amounts of time for indulgent conversation.”

"Well. Assuming that you will do what you need to, then, I should be on my way..."

She allowed her gun hand to lower, and she flashed a smile framed with crimson lips that would have dazzled any flesh and blood man (though keenly escaped the android's attention). She glided more than she walked toward the stairs of the door.

She stalled though, regarding the android with a glint in her eye. Something close to avarice there. Not quite lust. But nonetheless, regarding him as a potential possession. It was enough to make the android swallow thickly, and he gestured with his weapon to indicate for her to speed up.

He had no idea who the woman was, and as soon as she was off he pulled up the steps and shut the hatch tightly. Rather than moving the mutoids, he settled for shoving one out of the way and settling into her seat. He would have to deal with disposal later.

He was also inconvenienced with a Federation craft that he would have to change out somewhere along the way so that the Scorpio would not believe itself to be pursued. Disabling any identifying signals would be quite simple, and he tore out the bottom of the console to change around some of the relays.

012727.05 from Incident...

"You fools!"

Belkov turned at the harsh reprimand from Sleer, surprised to find the woman storming (which somehow she managed to do with unnerving grace as well), up behind him. The older woman with the unpleasantly pinched face he'd been speaking with seemed taken aback by the announcement as well.

"Commissioner?"

"He's getting away, with our ship!" Commissioner Sleer held out her hands. "A machine has proven once again that you men are fully incapable."

It was no wonder she referred back onto her tactical computers so often.

Belkov looked as if he'd been slapped, anger flashing in wide eyes. He respected computers as much as the next man. But they were no replacement for man.

"Find him," she snapped before he could even fathom a retort.

"Excuse me, that's our android," the other woman argued.

"And we're appropriating him for the future of the Federation, no matter whose android he is. I. Want. Him."

"Commissioner!" a trooper called from behind her. "He's broken the controls to the docking bay doors. It will take hours to fix them..."

Sleer didn't allow the utter and pure disdain show on her face. It could crease it, after all. Instead she swallowed it with a flutter of her eyelids.

"Then someone should hurry, I would imagine. And as for you," she turned to Anne, her eyes narrowing to predatory slits. "If I were you, I would become more adjusted to the idea of the a Federation presence. From now on, you and your people are going to answer to me."

"And if I refuse?" the technical supervisor asked, her cheek flinching slightly in mirrored agitation.

"Oh, you're free to leave." The response was accompanied by another stunning, sinister smile and a slight toss of her head. "With the clothes on you back, and nothing else. But if you've come to appreciate your position here, I would consider cooperation. Authority is a wonderful thing. I know from experience... it's far too precious to give up."

Before Anne could even agree, Belkov had the Commissioner's attention.

"What are you waiting for! Start helping them. I want that android, and if we lose his trail I'll have her in charge of finding him and you back on your little festering planet digging for crystals."

Belkov was bristling, but new better than to speak out against her. So instead, he silently moved to follow the other troopers.

What's Your Personality Type?

2009-08-20T14:21:28Z

You Are An ESFJ

The Caregiver

You are sympathetic and caring, putting friends and family first.
A creature of habit, you prefer routines and have trouble with change.
You love being in groups - whether you're helping people or working on a project.
You are good at listening, laughing, and bringing out the best in people.

In love, you value harmony and mutual understanding.
You will apologize or give someone the benefit of the doubt, if it means getting over a fight sooner.

At work, you are good at building relationships and connecting with people.
You would make a great nurse, social worker, or teacher.

How you see yourself: Organized, dependable, co-operative

When other people don't get you, they see you as: Opinionated, critical, and know-it-all

What's Your Personality Type?

I do not ever recall having claimed to 'know-it-all'. There is in fact much I do not.