The Eyes of the Beholders - A. C. Crispin [27]
Data’s expression brightened. “Finally, some concrete criticism! Your suggestion is most welcome, Doctor. I can indeed alter the setting to a more romantic location, by having the hero and heroine meet in the Luna Botanical Gardens.”
“Umm …” Crusher shrugged. “That might do it. Also, Data, uh, well, while I enjoy a good potboiler as much as anyone else …”—she smiled ruefully—”don’t tell anyone, but I have an entire collection of Jacqueline Susann’s works—but, anyway, for me to become truly emotionally involved with the characters, I prefer love stories where people don’t just fall down on the ground together and, uh … have intercourse, but where they talk to each other. Where they develop a relationship over a period of time, and that relationship grows into love.”
“Can you give me any examples?” he asked.
“Well, my favorite author is Jane Austen, whose characters always expressed their sentiments so clearly, and so wittily, that the emotion comes through, not to mention that it’s a pleasure just to read her elegant prose.”
“Jane Austen,” Data repeated thoughtfully. “I will consider what you have said, Beverly. And I do appreciate your taking the time to read my work.”
“Oh, you’re very welcome,” she said, uncomfortably aware that she certainly had not delivered the “honest opinion” that he’d requested. “You might consider asking for another woman’s opinion … maybe more than one,” she suggested, thinking that perhaps if Data asked enough people, he’d be able to put two and two together for himself.
“I shall do so,” Data said solemnly, and he gathered up his manuscript. “And I shall do some rethinking about what constitutes romance in a work of fiction.”
“Maybe you ought to read Gone with the Wind,” Beverly suggested. “And Jane Eyre. Or Hightower’s Flame of Darkness.”
“I have read them,” Data replied, “but I will review them, I assure you.”
“Good,” she said, and she racked her brain for more examples of successful romances. Just then, Lieutenant Selar paused in the doorway, hesitated, then started away.
“Selar!” Crusher called with relief. “It’s okay. Lieutenant Commander Data and I were just finishing our discussion. You can come in.”
The android rose to his feet and greeted the Vulcan doctor as she stepped into the office. “Thank you again, Doctor. I will keep your comments in mind,” he promised, and left, manuscript in hand.
“I did not mean to interrupt,” Selar said. “These inventory reports could have waited until you were free, Beverly.”
Crusher leaned back in her seat and sighed. “I wanted you to interrupt,” she said. “I needed rescuing. I wasn’t enjoying the role of literary critic.”
Selar’s only comment was a raised eyebrow.
“Commander Riker,” said Lieutenant Worf suddenly, “I am picking up a transmission, sir.”
“A transmission?” Riker sat bolt upright in the command seat. “From how far away? Can you identify the source, Lieutenant?”
“It is coming from approximately point five light-years away, Commander,” the Klingon said in his deep rumble. “As for the source … I cannot be positive, sir. The signal is weak, but I believe that it may be from the Marco Polo.”
“Can you boost the signal enough to bring it in clearly? Is it repeating?”
“No, Commander, it was only the single transmission. And I will attempt to amplify the recording so that we can make it out, sir, but …” The Klingon trailed off as he worked, frowning. Riker spoke up. “Riker to Captain Picard.”
“Picard here.”
“Sir, we may have something. Lieutenant Worf believes that he is picking up a transmission from the Marco Polo. He’s trying to boost the signal now.”
“On my