Chapter Text
A surge of electricity passed through the ship a little while ago.
While studying what effects an energy storm taking place in a class 2 nebula might have on its neighboring star systems, the Enterprise itself was hit by a gust of static shock coming off of the storm. Other passing ships had reported computer malfunctions of all shapes and sizes when encountering the event, and it seemed this time was no exception. Some malfunctions took place immediately, while others weren’t found until hours later.
Including Data’s malfunction.
The events necessary for this particular anomaly to occur were put into motion months in advance, however, when Geordi and Data decided to take their casual flirting to a more serious level. Soon after that, upon learning that Data was “fully equipped”, according to the gender his body presented as, they took things to a more... physical level.
Recently, the two had made some minor modifications to Data’s physiology so that they might have more inclusive sex. Data could now receive penetrative intercourse from Geordi, as well as assimilate the ensuing semen into his liquid filtration system. The modifications required no more energy output than a background antiviral software, and they’d been able to use nothing more than some reverse-engineered replacement parts for a replicator.
Generally, it was frowned upon to modify Data; there were those in Starfleet that believed Dr. Soong’s work should remain unchanged. Therefore, Geordi suggested they keep his new components a secret, unless they started to cause problems. After all, the upgrade had improved Data’s quality of life more than interfered with it.
Until now.
Data and Wesley were in Engineering, helping Geordi with the multitude of malfunctions cropping up in the ship’s most vital systems, ranging from the computer writing lengthy, nonsense code, to the timing on the antimatter injector being thrown off. Data was manually calculating the matter to antimatter injector’s input in real time, while his crewmates tried to locate the malfunction in the injector’s timing software.
“C’mon, something, anything,” Geordi murmured, going over the screens with neurosurgeon-like attention. He could be looking for anything from a single misplaced integer to an entire missing subroutine, and was relying on the android’s reflexes to keep them from exploding until he did.
However, those reflexes were currently being tried. Data found it was taking more concentration than he anticipated to calculate the rate of injection, despite the speed, size, and precision of those calculations being well within his ability to perform. His processing power was being siphoned elsewhere, making the situation in the engine room... well, to use a human descriptor, taxing.
“Sirs, I think I found the problem,” Wesley spoke up, but with more apprehension than either senior officer would have liked. “Replicant signals to the injector caused overfiring, and now, one of its diodes is misaligned.”
Data would have sworn if it were in his protocols to do so, that wasn’t--
“Wes, that’s not good news,” the engineer replied, joining him at his console. “If that’s true, we need to open up the injector and replace the diode— we’d have to shut down power to the whole ship for that.”
Geordi seemed to take the words right out of his oral processor, which was good, because he couldn’t spare the bandwidth for anything other than these calculations. After nearly 40 minutes and 31.3 seconds of manually operating the injectors, he was, in the best terms, getting fatigued. This was worrying, as he should have been able to sustain this indefinitely.
“I have an idea, sir, but it’s risky.” Ever the optimist, that Wesley. “If we temporarily reprogram one injector to input matter and antimatter at the same time, we can power down the other one and replace the diode.”
“Only one injector?” Geordi reeled, “Wes, I don’t need to tell you what could happen if the two mix in the wrong proportions, and Data’s doing all those calculations by hand as it is.”
“I know, it’s too risky,” Wesley shook his head, defeated, “I shouldn’t have brought it up, I’m sorry.”
Both of his crewmates were right, as far as Data could reason, and if he could, he would relish the fact. He couldn’t even simulate calculating faster than he was now, but he didn’t wish to simulate blowing up, either, and it seemed beyond his processing capabilities at the moment to come up with a better alternative. He felt his artificial respiration picking up as his fans desperately tried to cool his rapidly heating core temperatures.
Geordi spent approximately seven seconds holding his jaw in thought, before shaking his head and turning to the console behind him.
“How long would it take the automated repair system to replace the diode?”
Data didn’t answer.
“4.25 seconds, sir,” Wes responds, sparing a sideways glance at his superior.
“Data, can you sustain calculations for one injector that long?”
“...I can try,” replied Data, his voice straining.
Taking a good, long look at his companion (3.6 seconds long), Geordi nodded, and completed a series of commands on several consoles at once. The result was an almost instantaneous clunk of something shutting down, and the simultaneous whine of something speeding up, from deep within the dilithium crystal chamber.
The tasks came pouring in, and Data matched their speed, his hands flying over the controls at their peak level of efficiency. He wasn’t sure what the upper parameters of his processing abilities were, but balancing the power reaction of a starship in double time would be a good contender.
His chest heaved, the fans inside keeping up poorly with the rising internal temperatures of his core. Whatever was drawing on his power was forcing him to push his body to its limit, perhaps past it.
Wes, on standby to reactivate the second injector, watched Data with concern. He’d never seen the android under so much physical exertion-- he looked almost human in his struggle.
4.25 long seconds later, the computer confirmed that the diode was in place, and .9 seconds after that, it confirmed that both injectors were working in time with each other once again.
2.4 seconds after that, Data fell to the floor.
“Whoa, Data!” Geordi exclaimed, rushing to kneel by the android.
“Is he alright?” asked Wesley. “For a minute there, he looked like he was in real pain.”
“I dunno, Wes. Data, can you hear me?”
Though his eyes were closed, the heavy simulated breathing indicated he was still online.
“Data?”
The android opened his eyes, but neglected to sit up.
“I am alright,” Data replied, a little breathless. “I... I believe my systems were... overwhelmed with the amount... and duration of information processing I just underwent.”
“That’s never happened before,” the engineer replied, helping Data to sit up and lean against the computer console, “and I’ve never seen you so winded.”
“Perhaps it was more of a strain on my systems than I thought,” he hypothesized.
“Agreed. I’m going to see if I can find a tricorder.” Geordi stood.
Ensign Crusher looked closely over Data’s form, not expecting to see anything out of the ordinary-- so, it came as quite a shock when he did.
“Data, have you recently changed uniforms?” asked Wesley, pausing to wonder if his next words might be indelicate.
“No. Why?”
“Yours is looking a little... small. It almost looks as if--”
Geordi returned with the tricorder.
“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got,” he said, running the device up and down the length of the android. “Well, you’re warm, which means about the same thing in you as it does in us, that your body is under a lot of stress.”
“I just performed trillions of calculations,” Data replied. “Your body would be stressed, as well.”
He surprised himself at the amount of ire in his comment. Nevertheless, he had objections to the temperature analogy, as well, but he was suddenly feeling a great deal of pressure in his abdominal area.
“Yeah? Well, at least my CPU doesn’t prioritize power divergence to...” Geordi glanced at his readings, “...replicator bank 01? Data, are you connected to one of the replicators?”
His mouth was wet. He could evacuate coolant from his oral cavity, but only in emergencies.
“Data? What-- whoa!!”
Apparently, his body deemed this an emergency.