Immortal Coil - Jeffrey Lang [29]
Another anomaly: His outer integument, particularly at his face and extremities, was experiencing a point-three-degree rise in temperature. His one sexual encounter with Tasha Yar had provoked a similar physiological response, but at the time it had lacked emotional context.
This was different.
Data found himself accessing etiquette and protocol studies; he attempted to determine the most likely problems he would encounter during his dinner with McAdams and began running scenarios for dealing with them. He quickly determined that the issues were too complex to resolve with the resources he had assigned and attempted to sort and prioritize the variables. This did not clarify his thinking particularly, but it did make Data aware of a peculiar, but not altogether unpleasant, nervousness.
“Data?”
“Yes?” Data said a bit too suddenly. He realized he had forgotten Geordi. No, not forgotten, but become less aware of his presence, somehow, as if Data were … preoccupied. The thought, like so many other recent new experiences, intrigued him.
“I said, that was quite an interesting conversation you were having with Lieutenant McAdams.”
Data nodded. “Yes,” he said. “It was. Though I have the feeling that I may have missed some of the undercurrents.”
His friend grinned and leaned back against the edge of the control panel. “I don’t think you missed anything important. Looked to me like you were just getting to know each other better through banter. It’s deceptively sophisticated behavior and you were holding your own just fine. I confess it’s not something I’m that good at myself and the lieutenant seems like a formidable opponent.”
“Opponent?” Data asked, confused. “I sense that you are being ironic, but I fail to completely grasp your meaning.”
Geordi faltered. “I just meant …” He paused again and tapped his lip with a fingertip. “I guess what I’m saying is that Rhea is a kind of woman who will keep you on your toes. She’s very quick, very … I don’t know … combative … ? Do you understand what I mean?”
Data quickly parsed Geordi’s statements for possible meanings. Though several interpretations suggested themselves, none was so overwhelmingly probable that he felt like he could, in good conscience, assure his friend he had grasped his meaning. He shook his head. “No, Geordi. I do not.”
“All I’m saying is …” Geordi sighed resignedly. “I’m sorry. This isn’t one of my best areas. What I’m trying to say is that you might be entering into terrain that even those who have years of experience with emotions sometimes have problems traversing.”
Data nodded. “I believe I understand now. You are concerned for my welfare and are attempting to warn me away from circumstances you think might be perilous.”
Geordi sighed with relief. “Yes,” he said. “That’s it exactly.”
“Also, I am currently in what might be described as an emotionally vulnerable condition.”
“Good point.”
“But is it not possible,” Data asked, “that this is one of the attributes that Lieutenant McAdams finds attractive?”
Geordi weighed this consideration, then held up his hands in mock surrender. “You know,” he said. “You might not need my help, after all.”
Rhea McAdams’s quarters were decorated in a simple, almost austere manner. She had removed most of the Starfleet-standard furnishings and broken up the main room into irregular spaces with painted folding screens. The main living area was centered around a low, wide table that was surrounded by cushions. Around the window, there were several small pen and ink studies of Mount Fuji that Rhea had done, she explained, during her student days. There was a faint tang of incense in the air and Data noted a small table at the edge of the space set with an incense holder and a trio of small holograms.
“Those are my parents,