Don't Hump Me Because I'm Beautiful
by J. Juls 11-11-01
"They're almost here."
The sentence cuts strangely into my dream; I hear it as I bathe in the giant glass dish of pink ice cream.
"They need you, Lal. Selar's been hurt."
The ice cream's so deliciously cold; it makes my nipples hard. Since I can't breast feed an infant, I don't know why it's so. Selar's been hurt.
"Lal?"
:::chirrup:::
"ohhhhh..." There's a warm hand on my shoulder, patient.
"I'll answer the door. You'd better get ready, though."
I open my eyes. "Guinan..." She turns back from the bedroom doorway. "Why must you always *do* that? Why must you assume I know things when I do not?" She only smiles as she leaves.
I roll out of bed efficiently and don a pink robe over my white panties and T-shirt. By now I hear Counselor Troi's voice speaking quietly. I turn up the gain on my ears.
"Dislocated shoulder. She'll be fine, but we *do* play the P'agh next week, and we need strength for that."
Of what are they speaking? I proceed into the living area to ask Troi. But when I look at her, I see that she's wearing a Parisses Squares uniform. "Do you wish me to play Parisses Squares with your team, Troi?"
"Hello, Lal." Troi has always been so kind to me. Almost everyone has. I see Crusher and Yar sitting on the couch beside her. They look sweaty and disheveled. "Yes, if you would like. Dr. Selar won't be able to play for a while. We need a replacement."
"I do not know how to play Parisses Squares. I'll require a few moments to download the information."
Troi smiles. Why do they all smile at me in that knowing way? "May I take that as a 'yes,' then, Lal?"
I have once again neglected the banal niceties of organic beings' conversation. "Yes," I answer.
"The information shouldn't be a problem, Lal," Yar says. "We're playing Klingon rules." She smiles, all white teeth. Apparently Yar enjoys Klingon rules.
***
We practice in the holodeck. Our objective is to land the disc inside one of the Klingons' squares by any means necessary. I have the disc. A Klingon dives in front of me. As I jump over her, she grabs my leg to stop me. Yar kicks her hard in the shin, and her grip looses. I get to my feet as Crusher stops another Klingon from tackling me. I slide into the square, holding the disc in front of me. It vanishes. Goal.
"Score: fifteen-twelve, blue team. Game over."
The field and the Klingons disappear. My teammates collapse on the hologrid, sweaty, their chests heaving. But they are laughing. I stand. "Will we proceed to the showers now?" Troi looks at me and smiles. They all get up, patting each other on the back, on the shoulder, on the buttocks. Troi comes over and puts her arm around my shoulders.
"Let's go, Lal."
***
I'm not sweaty. I scrub the holo-mud from my skin and hair quickly and efficiently. Troi, Crusher, and Yar share one shower. They caress each other and help each other to wash. They start kissing each other. I don't know how to approach them. Then Yar approaches me. "We're just ... unsure, Lal. We don't want to upset Guinan."
"I understand. Guinan is powerful." But I know Guinan wouldn't be upset. On her planet, many partners were married at the same time. I would tell Yar that, but I know I don't need to. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, in the field at Starbase Nine."
"Yes, Lal. Fourteen hundred hours." Troi looks and looks at me, watches me as I go back into the locker room.
***
I have the disc. A Klingon dives in front of me. As I jump over her, she grabs my leg to stop me. Yar kicks her hard in the shin, and her grip looses. I get to my feet as Crusher stops another Klingon from tackling me. I slide into the square, holding the disc in front of me. It vanishes. Goal.
Another disc appears from a random location. Troi just barely manages to catch it, leaping high and landing on her elbow. A Klingon grabs it away from her and starts running. I tackle the Klingon. Another Klingon kicks me in the ribs. I don't feel any pain, of course. Crusher and Yar try to pry the disc from the Klingon's hands. I hold the Klingon as she crawls toward one of our squares.
All eight of us are in the pile-up now. I bite the Klingon's hand to free the disc, and Yar pulls it away. All she needs now is a good, clear shot at their goal. Yar struggles to her knees to throw. A Klingon grabs her from behind, around the throat and by the hair. I take the disc quickly and throw. (As it sails through the air, I see a flash in my mind: Father trying to teach me to play catch. He throws a ball. I do not catch it.) The disc vanishes. Goal.
"Score: fifteen-thirteen, blue. Game over."
We all get up. One Klingon gives us a salute -- a hard punch to her own chest followed by an outstretched fist. "Your new player is good. She wears no body armor, yet she is oblivious to pain. She would make a good Klingon." They smile, showing their filed-pointy teeth. We all salute them, the Starfleet salute.
***
I don't want to go into the locker room this time. I beam myself home and take a sonic shower, alone.
I get out of the head, and there's Guinan. "How was the game?"
I turn away from her. "We won. Fifteen to thirteen."
"Hm. I'd have thought otherwise."
Strange how I always forget how perceptive my mate is! I carefully collect myself, make my expression neutral. "Why?"
"I don't think I need to answer that."
Guinan can be so infuriating. That must be why I want to bring some more people home with me; just to dilute her all-knowing presence would be a welcome relief. Sometimes she knows things about me that even I don't clearly sense. I start to walk toward the bedroom, to relax. But I can't leave her like this. Her silence is too ... oppressive.
"They're not attracted to me, Guinan. They're not attracted to me, and I can't bring them home for us." Slowly I turn to look at her, not really expecting comfort. Guinan isn't much on mushy words of love.
She stares at me for a long time, maybe too long. "Perhaps they're just not attracted to me. Or perhaps they think that we'd like to remain faithful, the way some Terrans do."
"They know all about El-Aurian marriages, and I can tell they're curious about you. Anyway, you weren't in the shower with us yesterday." The humiliation overwhelms me, and I run into the bedroom, pushing the door-close panel after me. I throw myself onto the bed, better to wallow in self-pity.
***
Much later, the door opens. Guinan sits on the bed next to me; I feel her hand stroke my arm and work its way up to my neck, rubbing the tension from my linkages. "Don't trouble yourself, Lal. People nowadays have ... moved past ... the old ways of thinking -- the idea that looks are everything. Perhaps you're just not being candid enough with them. Humanoids can sometimes be quite dense. Now let's go to bed."
***
I end my dream program early, as I had planned. Guinan sleeps next to me, her arm protectively over my hip. I ease gently out of our bed. Perhaps Guinan was right. But I have no evidence to confirm her hypothesis.
After today, I'll know.
It takes me only 3.2 minutes to make my way to Holodeck 5. I don't visit the holodecks regularly; their appeal is yet another of the human feelings I don't understand. I do remember, clearly, the last time I entered this holodeck, however.
I had been new and not fully formed, just out of alpha-testing. There still had been much I needed to learn. "I choose your sex and appearance," I had told Troi. I blush involuntarily at the memory. There obviously had been some instinct there, something Father had unknowingly programmed into me. It was likely that he possessed the instinct as well: the desire to be found attractive.
Guinan has emphasized internal beauty; in searching his memory engrams, I find that Father would as well. But I would like to possess external beauty to a greater degree. I call up my final appearance simulation from long ago, when I had chosen "a human female" with so little knowledge. Now I'll modify it.
"Computer. Increase length of femoral supports by 5%."
"Increase length of tibial supports by 6.5%."
"Increase volume of mammary units by 15% ... . Increase a further 10%."
"Decrease circumference of waist by 3%. Smooth torso to compensate."
I see that the figure of myself is taking shape nicely. I study it, and as I study, I remember my first experience with humanoid tastes, my encounter with Riker. I remember how I grabbed him and kissed him, and how he ran away when Father walked in. Would this figure have made him stay? Would it? No, not yet. There must be further alterations.
***
What a lousy shift I had on the Bridge. Those damn Blorkanians just won't shut the fuck up! What's there to talk about anyway? Their boring planet's only in the middle of Ferengi trade lanes; who gives a shit? But no, the Federation has to mediate everything. Let the Ferengi and the Blorkanians destroy each other. What do I ... hey, who's the hot-lookin' babe?
Oh, yeah, she's tall, just how I like 'em. Bet those legs could wrap around me twice. And the tits. Big, round, perfect, with those hard nipples showing through her slutty, skimpy dress. Nice, round ass. Lips that could suck latinum out of a Ferengi. Blonde hair, and -- wow -- actually her face looks sorta like ... "Lal?"
"That's *Miss* Lal to you, buster." She slaps me on the face and sashays off. I can't think of a reply. It's Lal, all right, but ... modified. And one heck of a modification! Surely Data wouldn't have done that.
She's over by the ladies now, intruding on their little clique: Deanna, Beverly, and Tasha. But they don't seem to mind. They're just as happy as I was! Whoa, where are they all going now?
Heard Deanna mention "my quarters." Wooo, good thing I still have that secret vidcam installed over her bed, in the air duct. I see the ladies leave ten-forward, all three of them in a crowd surrounding the new Lal. I know all about El-Aurian marriages; Lal has to test them out first, see whether they're good enough before bringing them home to Guinan. I'll have to have Chief Smoep set up a vidcam in Lal's quarters tonight.
I get one beer for the road. Time to get into my quarters and turn on the ol' viewscreen!
END