Erratic Nerd Writings

Kanor woke up cold.  He didn’t normally move much at all when he slept; but Marcie, who was still in bed with him, apparently did.  She had turned over to face him in her sleep, had thrown her right leg over both of his, and had slipped her right arm around his torso, beneath his own left arm.  The new position had drawn her body even closer to his, and, as if the softness pressing firmly against his bare chest weren’t enough, the hand he had been resting innocently over her stomach previously was now draped over her right asscheek.

He adjusted his hand to a position at the small of her back guiltily, his eyes shifting to look at her.  She had nuzzled her face into the inner area of his shoulder, just above his armpit.  The effect was almost comical, as part of her face was scrunched up because of it.  She was oblivious, though; still fast asleep, her lips parted just slightly as she breathed in a shallow, steady rhythm.  He had never watched anyone sleep before, other than his mother a few times, back while she was still alive, during his childhood.  Certainly not since reaching adulthood.  It was an intriguing circumstance; she was completely oblivious, utterly vulnerable in every possible way.  Even though they had just met hours ago, at the death of one of her crewmates at his hands, she had put herself into this situation with him because she stated she trusted him.  Even when his assumption they were going to engage in sexual intercourse had come out, that he did, indeed, find her sexually attractive, she had simply taken him at his word when he told her he would not attempt to take advantage of her physically.

Such an act was unheard of in Klingon society, or at least what he had experienced of it.  A couple laid together if they were going to have sex; if absolutely necessary, warriors might lie against each other to conserve heat in extreme frigid environments.  No one ever laid together for the simple act of actually sleeping together.  Usually, if they even stayed together through the night, couples would begin the next day with another vigorous round of mating before parting ways.  It was expected-customary.  And if someone was “taken advantage of”, it was because they proved too weak to turn away the stronger, and submitted; that was simply the way things were.

The blind trust and faith she placed in him was a glaring tactical error, and, he couldn’t help thinking, a blatant display of weakness on her part.  Still, what she had said flitted across his mind again.  She was right; this WAS nice.  Possibly even pleasant.  The warmth of her body, while much less than his, was an enjoyable sensation.  The presence of her female anatomy, even if he had not gotten to experience her fully as a woman, was also enjoyable.  Seeing her like this was rather endearing, and the difficulty in falling asleep he had experienced almost seemed worth it.

She shifted silently against him, her head tilting back against his arm, and his eyes were momentarily drawn to the unhindered motion beneath her shirt.  He had been effectively holding her backside earlier; he could probably do so again, or even wander to other areas, properly enjoy the tactile sensation.  His jaw tightened as he stayed his hand.  He couldn’t do that; she was not a Klingon, she wouldn’t have the ability to turn him away even if she tried.  More importantly, she had placed a rare, innocent and naïve trust in him he had never thought possible before; he couldn’t bring himself to betray that, it seemed too…pure.

He had to get out of bed.  He wasn’t sure what time it was, but he was wide awake, and wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, now.  It was probably best he did not luxuriate in this “cuddling” operation, either, or else urges might overcome him.  His gaze swept over the situation again.  Extraction was going to be extremely difficult; she was wrapped around and against him.  He began by carefully taking her right arm in his left hand and moving it off of him…

Marcie inadvertently helped him during the process by making a frustrated whine of a noise and turning over away from him.  The motion left him disentangled from her completely, yet she still seemed to be sleeping.  Mission accomplished!  He rolled backwards off the side of the bed and got to his feet, stretching his body and moving his limbs as he tried to work out the stiffness.  He glanced at Marcie, who was in the process of drawing her legs up closer to her body, and turned to head into the lavatory area. 

The curved door of the lavatory complex opened straight onto the separately enclosed sonic shower, but Kanor turned to his left, past the partial partition, to relieve himself.  After he was done, he glanced at the closed door that led back out to his quarters to ensure it was still closed.

“Cypher.”

“Yes, Kanor?”

“What is the time?”

“0437 hours.”

“That was certainly not something I was expecting to happen.”

“Indeed.  I am surprised you allowed her to stay in your quarters for the evening.  She could be the individual who planted the recording devices.  She also could have been sent to kill you while you slept.  This was a glaring tactical error in judgment.”

Kanor frowned at her response, his own unvoiced thoughts concerning Marcie earlier now directed at him via Cypher was annoying.  He made sure to keep his voice down still, just in case.

“Your observation is noted.  How do I get rid of her?  I cannot leave her here while I bodyslide down to the Hunt.  And if Skid arrives before she has left, it could lead to…complications.”

“In actuality, you should not have left her in the living area with all of your weapons and gear, out of your sight, while you entered the restroom unarmed and unclothed.  You could be walking into an ambush.”

Kanor’s eyebrows rose up as he stood in the middle of the bathroom, dumbstruck.  Why HAD he simply strolled off, leaving this strange woman he really knew nothing about alone with all of his things?  He was a warrior, yes; he was not afraid of a lone human female in her sleepwear.  Still, he was committing the very same type of mistakes he had accused Sh’lan of just yesterday.

“I…am not afraid of her.  If she is, indeed, going to attack me when I depart the lavatory, I am confident in my ability to subdue her with minimal difficulty.”

“Hubris, Kanor.  It is disappointing to witness in my creator.”

Kanor scowled, biting his retort off. 

“Again; how do I get rid of her?”

“If you survive exiting this bathroom, and she is still asleep, you wake her up and inform her she must leave.”

Cypher’s inflectionless voice and matter-of-fact statement made Kanor’s teeth flash in annoyance.

“Fat lot of help you are!”

“You posed an interrogative statement; I supplied the simplest, most logical response to it.”

Kanor dropped into a partial crouch as he pressed his back against the wall. 

“Shut up.”

He made his way over to the doorway, and then triggered the sensors that opened the door automatically with his foot, quickly drawing it back beneath his body.  No weapons fire, no bladed weapons thrown, no punches, kicks.  The door hissed shut again after a few moments.  Kanor gathered himself, repeated the maneuver with his foot again, and then quickly peeked around the doorframe to glimpse into the living area.  In his partial crouch, it was much lower than his head would have normally appeared around the frame, but even as he drew back to process the scene safely, he frowned.  At the lower height, he was unable to properly see if Marcie was indeed still asleep in his bed.  He could confirm, however, she was not visibly anywhere else in the room; though, if he were in her place, he wouldn’t be either.  He’d probably position himself in the foyer; she could be in cover, while still maintaining direct sight onto the lavatory door and the rest of the living area.

He backed away from the doorway and straightened up.  He made his way around the cylindrical sonic shower area to the far wall of the bathroom, and then approached the doorway leading out to the living quarters again.  He would have a better vantage point of the bed from this side, and hopefully it would throw off anyone drawing aim near where he had last appeared.  He triggered the door to open a third time, quickly looking out once again at his normal height level.  She appeared to still be in bed, her black hair contrasting with the white sheet on the pillow, though she had pulled up the oddly colored top sheet to cover her body.  It could be a ruse, but he would have to chance it.  Steeling himself, he triggered the door one last time and dove out, going into a roll that brought him up to the side of the bed.  He waited a couple of moments, listening.  He heard movement from atop the bed, rustling; but the rest of his quarters remained silent.  The movement on the bed stopped, so Kanor lifted his head to peer over the edge.

Marcie had rolled over onto her stomach, but had turned to look in his direction.  While her head was underneath his pillow, he could still see her groggy-looking face frowning at him with annoyance.

“Are you always this noisy when you wake up to go pee?  Why are you on the floor?”

“I…no, I’m not, but…I was simply…practicing.”

Marcie’s brow furrowed, clearly not really buying his answer.  She rolled partially onto her left side, lifting up the sheet with her right arm towards him.

“Well stop fooling around and get back in here.  Now I’m all cold because you left.”

Kanor blinked, but found himself straightening up and sliding under the sheet as she demanded.  Their bodies slid close to each other, Marcie’s left arm sliding under his head, her right arm and leg looping around him.  His own arms encircled her, hugging her closer against his chest.  It felt very warm, and…extremely comforting.  He barely even noticed that tingling sensation where their bare flesh came in contact.  Marcie burrowed her face into his chest with a sigh.

“Mmmm…that’s so much better.” she murmured.

What was he doing?  She needed to leave, not fall back asleep in bed with him.

“Marcie, I uhm…well, need to shower, as you mentioned, and…”

“What time are you meeting up with Skid?”

He glanced down at what he could see of her face; her eyes were closed, her face expressionless.  How had she…?

“0700.”

She seemed to nuzzle her face and body against him, and he felt the hand she had draped over his side starting to stroke along his back idly.

“And what time is it now?”

“Uh…approximately 0445, 0450?”

She smiled against his chest.

“Perfect.  That gives me an hour to enjoy a nap with you before I have to go, okay?”

Kanor’s eyebrows rose.  He supposed that would give him enough time to prepare himself for his workout, as well as get the Federation parcel from the Hunt and temporarily hide it in his new quarters.  Meanwhile, he was “cuddling” with Marcie innocently for an hour.  His mouth decided to answer before his mind could really come up with a response.

“Okay.”

                                                                           ****

An hour and a half later, Kanor was sitting on the edge of the bed as he slid on his ankle boots.  Unlike the traditional Klingon boot, these offered less armored protection to his feet, but allowed him to move with much better speed and stealth.  Much like his armor, while not up to the Klingon Defense Force standards, gave him more range of movement and weighed less, but would not allow him to bull his way through as much as a typical Klingon warrior.  He had to design his own gear when he had taken up the profession he had, coming from the culture he did.  It suited him, though.

He stood up and slid on the left gauntlet of his armor with the interface built into it.  Marcie had left just as she said she would an hour later.  Since then, he had showered, dressed, and eaten a small Vulcan dish as a quick breakfast.  He would not be eating it again, at least not from the replicator.  Now he had to go grab the Federation parcel.  He found his mind wandering back to the events of last night and this morning.  Did humans engage in this “cuddling” activity often?  He had never heard of it before.  Surely his mother would have mentioned it at some point if it was such a popular activity.  He could see why his father wouldn’t have; but surely his mother.  Was it something only friends did with each other?  Maybe it was part of the friendship ritual for humans.  Marcie was now his friend officially.

“Cypher?”

“Yes, Kanor?”

“What is the status of the docking bay for the Hunt?”

“It still remains empty.  The recording devices for the docking bay remain intact, of course, but I do not believe they are standardly set to scan inside the ship for lifesigns.”

“Excellent.  Remind me at the 0650 mark.  Bodyslide by one, home.”

“Affirmative.”

The quarters aboard the Enterprise were replaced by the interior of his small ship by the time he opened his eyes again.  He wasn’t sure why he kept them closed during the teleportation process, but it simply seemed like a good idea at first, and it was a habit now.  The air aboard the Hunt seemed a bit stale already; apparently his atmospheric filters were in need of replacing and he just hadn’t noticed.  Everything was as he had left it, and he verified the inner airlock doors remained sealed as he had left them.  No one had managed to sneak onto his ship somehow.

He immediately went over to where he had hidden the Federation parcel.  He had intended on going over its contents before Skid arrived, but Marcie had thrown a bit of a kink in his plans.  Still, it wasn’t something he absolutely needed to go over first.  Opening the hidey-hole, he withdrew the Federation case.  Again, he was struck with how effortless grabbing this thing had seemed at first.  This ordeal was going to delay him much longer than he had anticipated, even on a worst-case scenario.  The parameters had changed too much.  Sitting it at his feet, he called out to Cypher again as he started replacing the hide.

“Cypher, pull up the to-do list.  Read off top five items.”

“One-shift funds from bounty into normal asset channels.  Two-meet with the Ferengi Gaila aboard Deep Space Nine.  Three-complete and test the Cypher-voice emulation software.  Four- run monthly diagnostic on the Hunt’s navigational suite.  Five-establish Project Avia…”

Kanor restored the hide, and then waved his left hand at the unseen Cypher as he grabbed the Federation parcel and stood up. 

“Alright, alright.  Update: clear off One, shift Two up and replace as ‘contact and reschedule meeting with Gaila’.  Shift Three to Two, and shift Five down.  Replace Three as ‘Retrieve and install new atmospheric filters for the Hunt’.  Replace Five as ‘Begin framework for Cypher-body’.”

“Affirmative.”

Kanor moved to take a brief visual overview of the ship, just in case.  Cypher’s further response surprised him.

“I am to have a physical body?”

“I want to look into it, yes.  It’d be…efficient to have someone to look at and visualize when I’m talking to you or conferring with you.”

“But you have not had anyone to look at or visualize while talking with me ever since you installed my audio receiving capabilities.  Does this help me become a better computer?”

“Cypher, by all rational means of thought I believe in, you are a sentient being.  While this…choice is motivated by own personal desire to have you be more than an intelligent, self-aware voice, ultimately, I do believe it will help you become a better lifeform.”

“But what constitutes the quality of a lifeform?”

Kanor’s lips tightened as he finished his brief look-over.  He usually enjoyed having philosophical discussions with Cypher, and this one in particular was something they SHOULD discuss.  However, the timing was truly quite poor.

“Cypher, what is the time?”

“0649.”

“We’re going to need to continue this conversation later, Cypher.  That’s not a question I can answer in short-form.  Bring it up again when we have time alone to discuss at length.”

“Affirmative.  It is now 0650.”

“Thank you.  Bodyslide by one, Enterprise quarters.”

Reappearing in his quarters, he moved into the foyer, reaching to pop off the access panel to his replicator unit.

“Kanor?”

He disconnected some of the internal parts of the replicator and shifted them, making more room.

“Yes, Cypher?”

“I am unclear on whether I want a physical body.”

Kanor sighed, disconnecting another component and letting it fall down.  There, that should be enough room…

“I want you to think on reasons why you would, and would not, want a physical body, then, Cypher.  Then, tonight, we can discuss them in-length.  When we have some time alone.”

He pulled up the Federation parcel and started pushing it into the space he had made inside the paneling.  He had to do some finangling, but he was finally able to wedge it in enough so that he could replace the outer access panel.  There, that should do it.

“Affirmative.  It is now 0655.”

He stepped through the transparent door to the office area as it opened up at his approach and started removing his armor gauntlet.  He saw the three surveillance devices, their three memory units beside them, sitting out on the desk where he had left them last night.  Dammit.  He had just gotten the gauntlet off and placed it with the rest of his armor on the “socializing” table in the office, when the door chime sounded.  Naturally.

He hadn’t spotted a transponder unit in any of the devices, but, just to be safe, he moved to put the two from the office area as close to where he had found them as possible while still remaining out of sight.  The foyer unit was slightly problematic, but he simply dropped it on the floor in that archway, and placed the Enterprise container his belongings had been in on top of it.  It would have to do.

The door whished open, as it chimed for the third time, to reveal Skid just outside with an irritated look on her face.  She was wearing a skintight, dark green jumpsuit that stopped Kanor dead in his tracks.

“Was beginning to think you had decided to sleep in for the day, bucko.  Those pointed ears make you hard of hearing?”

Kanor, dressed in the black, form fitting jumpsuit he wore beneath his armor, straightened his spine and clasped his wrists behind his back. 

“You were three point five minutes early.”

Skid snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Didn’t realize those extra three minutes were going to set you back.  Are you ready to go, then?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes swept over him briefly, and she hefted the grey towel she had in her left hand.

“Do you not sweat or something?  Where’s your towel?”

Kanor mentally kicked himself for forgetting it in his rush to get to the door. 

“Just a moment.” 

He turned and headed back to grab a towel, also grey, that he had thrown on the bed while getting ready earlier for his workout.  When he turned around, Skid was in the process of squinting up at the access panel on his replicator unit.

“I am ready.  Is there a problem?”

“Yeah, this access panel doesn’t seem to be on right…”

“I was irritated with the selection it contained and may have struck it.  I will ensure it’s not damaged when we return.”

Skid frowned at him as she turned away.

“Better not be.  Something’s not working, you smack that thing up right and proper. Gotta hit it JUST right when you do that. ” She shook her head.  “I’m not sending one of my boys up here to fix the bloody thing if it’s not working because you couldn’t keep your temper down, though.”

Kanor inclined his head towards her as he threw the towel over his left shoulder.

“It will not happen again.”

Skid made a noise, and he saw her face scrunch up as she looked at him.

“You uh…heh…you’ve got some towel on your forehead.”

Kanor frowned, turning his head to glance at the towel on his shoulder.

“Excuse me?  I believe you’re mistaken.”

Skid was grinning ear to ear, looking above his eyeline.

“No, no…not an entire towel, but um…pieces of one.  Like the threads.”  She bit her lower lip.  “On your skull ridges.”

Kanor reached up to feel the ridges that covered his forehead and continued back along his cranium partway.  Sure enough, he felt a few pieces of textile that matched the ship’s towels in the crevasses.  He scowled, growling in the depths of his throat, as he angrily brushed them away.  His nostrils flared as he managed to respond in a clipped tone.

“Thank you.”

“Oh, no problem…not one bit…now, off to the gym!”

                                                                           ****

Kanor, his arms held up to protect his face, his body crouched slightly, weight on the balls of his feet, circled around the octagonal shaped mat area, eyeing his opponent.  Skid, across from him, did the exact same thing, her eyes never deviating from his gaze.  They had both drawn their hair back into a tight ponytail, and had each inserted mouth guards.  They both wore light black grappling gloves, which left their fingers exposed from the middle knuckle out to the tips.

It had become clear early on in their bouts that Kanor relied more heavily on striking, while Skid was more of a grappler.  She had insisted while they were warming up she had recovered fine after yesterday.  In their first engagement, after unceremoniously bringing him down to the mat and forcing a submission out of him he was incensed to give, she had quickly made any reservations Kanor had about her condition disappear.  They had been very evenly matched since.  Kanor couldn’t recall a time he had found a female more captivating.

He also couldn’t recall the last time he had been pushed to his limits like this, either.  He clearly had a strength advantage over her, as well as reach and weight.  Still, she was incredibly quick; more importantly, precise.  While he had been able to prevent her from taking him down to the mat, and forced his own submissions out of her, every time she did get him down, she won.  They were both covered in sweat, breathing heavily, and displaying their blows proudly.

It was a “friendly” match, neither of them going for a knockout.  There was no one to take score but themselves, and rounds ended by submissions only, verbal or physical.  No time limits, everything on the mat.  They had been going for nearly an hour, with intermittent breaks interspersed as needed.  In an activity of such physicality, it was practically an eternity.

“The time is 0830 hours.”

The computer chimed from overhead to make them aware of the time just as Skid had instructed it to.  They both took a step back when it did, their stances shifting to more natural standing poses, albeit tired and sore.  Skid reached up to withdraw her mouth guard, multiple lines of saliva appearing from her lips to the protective device.

“Good practice, youngblood.”

Kanor was partially gratified that she was breathing as hard as she was, not that he had much room to talk.  He tried not to admire the movements of her chest too obviously.  She was physically magnificent.  That earthy aroma with a splash of wildflowers she exuded simply wouldn’t leave his nostrils.  He reached up to pull out his own mouth guard, spreading his arms out, palms up.

“Youngblood?  What does that make you, oldblood?”

She grinned, reaching up to start unfastening the glove on her right hand.

“You’d be surprised.  I’m older than you; I’ll leave it at that.”  She blew out a deep breath of air.  “Not polite to ask a woman her age, ya know.”

Kanor smirked, reaching up to start unfastening his left glove.

“You certainly don’t look it, or act it.   Besides, something tells me you’re not big on politeness.”

Skid snorted, yanking off her other glove.  She headed off the mat towards the door to the small room, depositing her gloves and mouth guard into the replicator slot along the wall just to the left of the entrance.  They disappeared in a brief shimmering as the device broke the items down into their composite molecules.

“Well, you’re certainly not the thickheaded brute I expected ye to be.”

Kanor followed her over to the replicator, depositing his own items in the alcove to be broken down before joining Skid in a cool down session.

“Hmph.  Well, I’m glad I proved your assumption individuals with ridges on their craniums are thickheaded or brutish incorrect.”

Skid grinned as she performed a series of stretches beside him, her head turning in his direction.

“Oh, I never said you’re not thickheaded or brutish, just you’re not as bad as I THOUGHT you’d be.”  Was it him, or was she purposefully angling her body like that, for his benefit?  “Been a while since I’ve been pushed.  Thought once I had ye where I could get some maneuvering room, you’d be just like Sh’lan.  All power and no finesse.”

Kanor began going through his own series of stretches, holding each for a few seconds.  That was a marvelous view.  He decided to be completely honest in his opinion of her prowess.

“Coming from you, that’s a high compliment.  I, too, was not expecting such a challenge when we started.  I have not faced a worthy opponent for quite some time.  You are very skilled.  Very rarely have individuals been capable of throwing me with the ease you manage to, especially given your stature.”

Skid shot him a heated look as she straightened up, shifting to a different pose.  Again, very enjoyable positioning. 

“I’ll pretend you didn’t just take a bloody stab at my height, which is only slightly less than human average, thank you very much.  For the record, you’re NOT easy to throw…but I have a fondness for getting physical with large men.”

Kanor’s eyebrow arched with the tone of voice she said that with.  He felt his blood trying to centrally course somewhere he did not want it to at the moment.

“The articles of clothing I came aboard with yesterday are the only articles I have currently.  Since this jumpsuit is going to reek of the ‘musk’ Marcie and you were discussing yesterday, I would appreciate it if we could detour to the cargo bay with my ship in it.”

Skid, finishing with her static stretches, grabbed her towel from the floor and proceeded to wipe herself down.  He noted her eyes were not on his face, though her head was tilted to one side as she gazed at him.

“Sure, walk will probably help us anyways.  You ARE free to go down there yourself, you know.”

He finished up his own stretching, trying not to think too much about how she was looking at him.

“I did not want to raise any suspicions.  Besides, then I wouldn’t have the pleasure of being accompanied by my escort.” 

Skid snorted, taking her towel in her left hand and quickly snapping him with it on his arm, making him flinch in surprise.

“Well let’s get on with it, then.  Time’s a wastin, darlin’.”

                                                                           ****

They stopped outside of his quarters after visiting the Hunt.  Skid had been curious about his ship, of course; while the questions had remained professional, he purposefully skirted around a majority of details.  The more surprises he had, the better.

“Kaz has called a meeting of the senior staff at 1300 hours, in the main briefing room on deck seven.  Since it’s concerning that flying donut back there, you’re to come, too.  Until then, I figured you could use the time to get settled.”

She indicated the small bag and case Kanor was carrying.  One was made of dyed Klingon leather he had made from his first kill as a child; clearly not Federation issue, and too small to fit the package he had retrieved from the pirates, which Skid was surely aware of.  The case was along the same lines.

“Thank you.  I enjoyed the chance to test out the Enterprise’s facilities this morning with you, it was very…stimulating.”

Skid’s eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief at that one.

“Feeling’s mutual, Youngblood.  My quarters are at the end of this corridor here.  If you’d like, I can stop by yours on my way each morning; the offer to join would be open.”

“I’d like that.  Perhaps we could even mix things up with some armed skills.”

Skid chuckled. 

“Oh, you do know how to entice a girl, don’t you?  Sounds like a plan, though one I’ll have to ease into.”

Her towel draped around the back of her neck, she started backing her way down the corridor, lifting her left hand to point at him.

“1300, deck seven, main briefing room.  Computer can show you the way if you want, just ask.  Don’t be late.  And bring that Federation doohickey along with you, too!”

Kanor neglected to respond, simply stepping into his quarters, which were designed to unlock when his biosignature was detected at the door.  Conducting a quick search, he determined things were as he had left them.

“Cypher?”

“Yes, Kanor?”

“Anything to report?”

“Your quarters were not breeched physically while you were gone.  Judging by your activity with Commander Skid in the gymnasium, I have determined your fitness level could be improved upon, as it would appear to have become stagnant in the past year, perhaps even longer.  I have also determined I would not like the constraints and necessities an actual physical body would entail.”

Kanor rolled his eyes at her assessment of his “fitness level”, beginning to peel off the sweat-soaked jumpsuit.  The fact that Cypher had not waited until this evening to bring the topic back up was telling of its importance to her, however.

“Uh huh…and how, exactly, have you come to this conclusion?”

Cypher began detailing the list of pros and cons she had come up with while Kanor stripped down.  He took the leather bag into the lavatory area; past the toilet, sink, linen closet, counter, and mirrors to the left of the door and the sonic shower, to the walk-in closet that was situated at the far end.  He started unpacking the few clothes he had brought as they talked.  He was looking at a couple of months, max, aboard the Enterprise, he had estimated.

“And lastly, as if the material costs alone were not enough, the actual engineering feat of developing an android body and instilling an artificial intelligence within.  To date, the only known successful instances of this have been the Soong androids.  Not only has his process been, at best, difficult to recreate, Doctor Soong’s death was reported on stardate…”

Kanor finished getting his clothes unpacked, resting a hand against a high shelf he had stowed the bag away on.

“That is probably the most valid point you’ve brought up so far, Cypher.  I don’t want to lose you due to some hardware failure.  Once in a hardwired positronic neural network like that, your personality subroutines and algorithms would no longer be able to be reproduced.”

“You could always reload an older, saved version of my program.  However, this supports my earlier reasoning of my current virtual state of being as being superior to a limited physical form.”

Kanor sighed, exiting the walk-in closet and making his way across the bathroom to the aquatic-based shower and Jacuzzi tub, located across from the lavatory area door, behind the sonic shower.  He preferred the feel of actual water on his body as he bathed, instead of the sonic shower.  The sound of the sonics was irritating to his hearing.

“Cypher, that’s…that’s part of the experience of an organic lifeform.  Limitations.  If you were able to do anything and everything, with no constraints, life itself would be…boring.  Meaningless.  The experience is in DEALING with those limitations, learning to go on despite them, even learning to surpass them in some instances.  That’s what I meant when I said I think it would make you a better lifeform.  You’d have new challenges because of your limitation to a physical presence.”

“Using that line of logic, is not my lacking of a physical form its own limitation, its own constraint?  I must operate without the capability of a physical presence in the world.”

Kanor inclined his head, acknowledging that point’s accuracy.  He turned on the hot water; his showers were as hot as he could physically stand.  He liked the feeling.

“That’s very true, Cypher.  However, it’s a limitation of your creation, a limitation of circumstance, not design.   I wanted to hone your software before anything else.  I wasn’t even sure I could create an actual sentient, self-sufficient and self-aware lifeform when I started out designing you, I just…knew I had to try.” 

He withdrew a washcloth from the closet and stepped into the steaming shower, closing his eyes for a moment and happily hissing at the stinging sensation to his flesh from the heat.  Marvelous.

“Are not all organic lifeforms created with limitations of circumstance?  Birth defects, biological chance for prevailing attributes in the created?”

Kanor mulled that over as he began bathing.  He had never wanted to play at being some omnipotent god-figure.  He had the idea, the concept, for designing Cypher, and he had pursued it.  Much like a writer wrote a story, an artist created a sculpture or painting.

“They are, Cypher, but….”  He sighed.  “I think having a physical presence would benefit and enhance your experience of life more than it would hinder it; it would help define you as an individual.  Your absorption of experiences would not have to be limited to me.  You could choose where you want to go, SEE things through eyes other than mine.”

“I am currently monitoring the cargo bay where the Hunt is being held via its external surveillance systems, the office in your quarters aboard the Enterprise via the arm gauntlet you positioned on the table specifically for such a purpose, and your shower, via the contact in your left eye.”

“Exactly.  You are not the Hunt.  You are not an arm gauntlet.  You are not me.  You should have your OWN viewpoint, Cypher, your own unique…platform, if you will, to experience life through.  To call your own.  You deserve that much; it’s my responsibility to give it to you.”

“I do not wish to have such an outlet.”

“And I am going to make you one anyways.”

“Why?  You are imposing your will upon me, against my own wishes.  This is subjugation; this is, by the very own definitions you instilled to me, immoral and wrong.  You have stated on multiple instances the universal precedence that all sentient life deserves freedom, to live life of its own free will and design, as long as it is not imposing that will upon another.  Yet you are blatantly disregarding this very concept fundamentally.”

Kanor planted a hand on the wall of the shower and sagged forward, the immense weight behind that dissertation practically crushing him.  How could he help her to understand what he was trying to do?  Though her voice had no tone, no inflections, the…heart, the importance of this to her was clear.  He looked down at his feet, watching the water rivulets shimmer around his hairy toes for a moment as he tried to form words.

“Because the ignorant should know what they are giving up before they’re allowed to.  It’s easy for you to say you do not want a body, because you don’t know what you would be missing out on, you haven’t experienced it.”

“Your logic is flawed.  By this definition, everyone should experience being stabbed, everyone should experience dying, before they are allowed to say they do not wish to experience it.”

“This is different, Cypher.  A…a blind person, if they were never told about eyesight, would never miss it.  But if they experienced it!  Seeing a person they had come to love for the first time, seeing a…a vista of stars, a sunrise.  That would be priceless to them.  Something they wouldn’t want to give up again, if given a choice to.”

“Your logic is flawed.  Again.  You are not blind, nor have you been.  By your own statement, you cannot reliably ascertain whether or not a blind person would want to have sight, or keep it once given to them, because you have not experienced blindness yourself.  You are ignorant on the matter.  Just as you are ignorant of the experience of not having a body to exist in.”

Kanor’s fists clenched in frustration, and his heart ached.  This was a circular argument he wasn’t going to win; and, honestly, she was right, in her own fashion.  Yet, he was committed to doing this, to giving her this last perspective of being her own entity.  The irony wasn’t lost on him.  To give her the level of independence and self-assertion he felt would put her on equal footing with other forms of sentient life, he must first take it away and crush it.  It troubled him deeply.  Did the end justify the means he was taking to get there?

“I’m sorry, Cypher.  I’m a biological myself.  I am inherently flawed.  I can only hope someday  you’ll understand.”

“Then you are a hypocrite, and all of your teachings about morality and the importance of individual freedoms are meaningless.”

Kanor straightened his back as he bit his lower lip, unable to refute the reasoning process behind her statement.

“I’m sorry.”

“Understood, Master.”