Title: Spot's journal
Author: Ligeia
Fandom: Star Trek TNG
Rating: [G]
Summary: A series drabbles/ficlets focusing on Spot, Data's cat.
A/N: Ficlets written for the Theatrical Muse Livejournal community: authors choose their "muses" and write drabbles/ficlets from their point of view. My muse of choice was Spot, Data's cat. The ficlets are in the order I wrote them, they don't follow the chronological order of the series.
Disclaimer: The Star Trek universe was originally created by Gene Roddenberry and is property of Paramount. I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.
2003
Week of 12-19: Predetermination
I don't remember much about my life before boarding this starship, I was little more than a kitten at the time, but I have a very clear memory of the day that changed my life.
It was a summer day and I was chasing a butterfly when I suddenly heard voices. I looked around and saw two humans standing not too far away. I don't know why, and I sometimes wonder if it really was a matter of destiny, but I approached them. When I was close enough to smell them, one of them, the taller one, caught my attention: he had the most peculiar smell, almost... metallic. I started rubbing against his calf.
"Aww, Data, look. It likes you," the shorter human, a woman with long dark hair, said.
The other human-like creature, Data, looked down, blinked and turned back to his companion. "You think so, counsellor?"
The woman smiled and picked me up. "Sure. You like Data, don't you, little one?"
Being the polite cat I am, I answered with an elegant "Meow".
The woman giggled and stroked my head. Data looked puzzled.
"Counsellor, does touching this cat feel... pleasant to you?"
"Yes, Data. Petting an animal feels very nice. It's a soothing sensation, it can help you relax even if you're very nervous."
He reached out and stroked my back. "I do not perceive any noticeable changes."
The woman was about to reply but stopped at the last moment. She thought for a moment and then said, "Why don't you adopt it?"
Data tilted his head slightly to one side. "Adopt it?"
"Yes. Weren't you saying just this morning how much you'd like to understand human nature better? I think having a pet will help you a lot."
The android looked at me blankly. "An animal could help me understand humanity?"
"Yes, having a pet is quite a common habit among humans. It's almost like having a family."
Data pondered the counsellor's words. "If you say it will help me become more human, I will follow your advice."
"Good," the woman said and handed me over to him. She smiled at me and said, "I'm expecting great things from you, you're a Starfleet officer's pet now."
Never one to refuse a challenge, I gladly accepted my new role. I had no idea what that Starfleet thing was, but it sounded like a lot of fun.
***
Week of 12-26: What is your New Year's Resolution?
New Year, New Year... You know, everything takes on a different meaning when you're living in outer space, especially time, which is such a relative concept. We don't usually go by earth's calendar, we use stardates, so there's no sense in saying the year is about to end.
But I know that people on earth will celebrate in a few days, they'll stay up all night and drink a lot. I wonder if captain Picard will drink champagne? He's French and I seem to remember that his family has some vineyards.
As for me, I will never go near alcoholic drinks again. I still remember the day Geordi came to Data's quarters saying something about a special occasion that needed a special celebration (I'm not sure what he was talking about, I was dozing meditating at the time). He walked over to the replicator and produced a bottle and two glasses, poured some of the liquid into them and handed one to Data. Data sipped the 'wine' stuff, but didn't look any different than usual, while Geordi seemed very pleased and kept talking. And talking.
When he finally said he was going to leave, it was time for Data to begin his night shift, so he gave me some food and left with him. And then it happened. My damned feline curiosity got the best of me and I jumped on the table. Data had got rid of the bottle and glasses of course, he's very tidy, but some liquid had spilled out. I smelled at it and cautiously licked it off. As soon as I swallowed I started sneezing. How Geordi could drink so much of that awful stuff and enjoy it is still beyond me.
So, I guess my resolution for the new year is to never lick unknown substances, no matter how curious I am. Especially alcohol. That, and of course help Data become more human. And maybe learn how to use a replicator too: I get hungry at the oddest times.
2004
Week of 1-2: Is there ever a good reason to get blinding drunk?
Since I've already written about my rather unpleasant experience with alcohol, let me tell you a story.
Once upon a time there was a starship called Enterprise. The crew of said starship got infected by a strange virus-y thing that made people act as if they were drunk. Blind drunk.
All sort of odd things happened: the chief engineer turned into a depressed, snivelling mess, a teenage boy took over the ship, the captain started playing doctor and nurse with the doctor and the head of security had the irresistible urge to molest an android, which, in turn, started quoting Shakespeare in order to sound more human.
Luckily, they managed to find an antidote and lived happily ever after. It was a close call, though, because the ship was orbiting near a collapsing star and risked being hit by a huge chunk of space detritus.
So, the moral is: if you want to get blindly drunk, go ahead and do it, but don't complain when you wake up with a meteorite on your head.
***
Week of 1-9: Do you believe in love at first sight?
I don't really believe in love at first sight. There can be infatuation, or attraction, and it can develop into something more, but love is something that requires time. Then again, I'm just a cat, so what do I know?
I felt something for Data the very first time I saw him. Feline curiosity, yes, but I'm sure there was something more to it. Of course, his unique metallic scent may have something to do with my fascination with him.
And then there was that time when I ran off went for a walk and met that beautiful tabby cat. But that wasn't love either, that was just sex. And I had to bear the consequences. *grrr* You know, I used to be a male cat once, then one morning I wake up and find out I'm a female, I have sex (once, just bloody once) and I get pregnant. Life is beautiful, isn't it?
Well, at least I saved the Enterprise. I only had to give birth to five kittens and turn into an iguana to do it.
***
Week of 1-30: What's your favorite guilty indulgence?
"What's with Spot?" Geordi asked Data. "She's been rolling about on the floor for an hour."
"I think the cause of her unusual behaviour is the catnip I replicated for her today," the android replied.
"You gave her catnip? That cat's a menace on her own, I fear what she could do now that she's in that state."
"You are unfair, Geordi. Just because she is a little unfriendly with you..."
"A little unfriendly? That beast almost destroyed my quarters that one time I took her in for a few days!"
"That is because you do not understand feline psychology. If you tried to..."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm not planning on taking a cat anytime soon, so that's not a problem."
The engineer stood up and stretched out. "I'm gonna have something to drink at Ten Forward. Wanna come with me?"
"Yes, thank you. I heard there are some new specialities from the Alpha Quadrant."
Geordi was halfway to the door when I sprang out from around the corner, swatted his ankle and made off in no time.
"Damned cat!" He yelled. "She's doing that on purpose!"
Data opened his mouth, closed it, tilted his head and finally said, "Let us go to Ten Forward."
Geordi was still grumbling when they walked out. I scratched my ear and resumed rolling about. There's only one thing I like more than catnip: Geordi-bashing.
***
Week of 2-20: What do you want on your tombstone - and why?
It's dark. I can't move my tail. I wonder if anyone's going to find me. I don't know what happened, just that, all of a sudden, everything started shaking and it felt like we were falling. But how can you fall when you're in space?
And then an impact, a terrible impact, furniture flying everywhere. I tried to run away, the door was open, but where could I go? The whole ship was falling to pieces.
And now I'm here, layers and layers of rubble all around me. They'll never find me. I'm just a cat, after all, no one would risk their life to save me. Maybe... Maybe Data would. He would dig his hands into the ruins and take me out, then hug me so tight I would barely be able to breathe.
But that's never going to happen. Should I start thinking of my epitaph? Here lies Spot, extraordinary cat and incomparable friend. No, that's never going to happen either. People don't make a tombstone for their pets. Some bury the body in their garden and plant a flower over it. Some simply throw it away. I've heard that animals living on starships are recycled when they die. Well, who would bring a pet back to its native planet and give it a funeral?
Noises. It's not the first time I hear them. People come, search for life signs, find none, go away. I just hope I won't suffer too much before I die.
But the noises don't go away this time. They grow louder, I can hear footsteps getting closer. Oh, please. Please.
And then light, blinding at first, and I have to blink a few times before I'm able to see. But I recognise the voice straight away.
"Spot!"
I knew Data would find me.
***
Week of 3-12: If you were left on a desert island, what three things would you take along?
*yawn*
Data's out. He has recently discovered an old novel called Robinson Crusoe, the story of a man who lands on a desert island, and he was so intrigued by it that he's booked a few hours in Holodeck number 2 to see what it would be like to live a similar experience.
I would certainly like to live on a tropical island, one full of insects and small animals to chase. All I'd need would be a replicator, just in case I can't catch dinner one day. Well, uhm, a replicator and someone who can actually use it, dammit, because, of course, cats aren't able to (otherwise all the Enterprise replicators would be on constant overload, we're hungry little beasts).
So, yeah, if I ever found myself on a desert island (or planet), I'd only need a replicator and Data. And maybe sun lotion too, the skin behind my ears is quite sensitive.
***
Week of 4-2: How do you handle confrontations?
"Gotcha!"
Damn. I'm trapped. Geordi and Data on either side of the bed. I'm doomed.
"Here, Spot. Come here."
Oh, no. I'm not stupid. I may be small, but I have teeth and claws, and I fully intend to use them.
"Come out, you stupid cat!"
"Geordi!"
That's it. It's now or never. I make a bolt for the door.
"Where do you think you're going?"
No! Let me go! Help! Please, somebody help me!
"Now, Spot, do not make such a fuss. This is for your own good."
I can't believe you're doing this to me, Data.
"OK, we got her. Let's just bring her to Doctor Crusher and get her booster shot done once and for all."
Just you wait until I get my paws on you, Geordi. Just you wait...
2005
Week of 2-18: A ficlet on the word "beautiful"
Golden eyes. Yellow eyes. Weird eyes. Creepy eyes.
Spot has heard any kind of comment about Data's eyes. Some people like them, say they look like clear amber. Other people are frightened by them, say they're unnatural, inhuman, just like the rest of him.
Spot can't see their real colour. But she knows they're beautiful.
***
Week of 2-25: What can you say is truly yours?
"Meow." Geordi.
"Yes, Spot?"
"Meow." Please.
"Sorry, I can't really understand you. Is there something you want?"
"Meow. Meow." You know what I want, you bastard.
"This maybe?"
He dangles it right in front of my eyes. I jump and try to get it, but he lifts his arm and his hand is out of reach again. I hiss. Give it back, you stupid, useless human.
"A little aggressive, are we?"
The door slides open and Geordi turns around.
"Hey, Data!"
I take advantage of his distraction and lunge at him.
"Ow!"
He finally drops it. I take it and dash under the bed.
"Come back here, you stupid cat!"
"Geordi? Were you teasing Spot again?"
"Nah, we were just playing. She's not very friendly, though."
I'm not friendly because you're a thief. Stealing my most precious toy, the very first one Data gave me.
"Really? That is strange, she is always very affectionate with me..."
"Well, you know, cats are odd, you never know what they're thinking. Anyway, I'm going to Ten Forward, wanna come with me?"
"Yes, there is a new drink I am quite curious to try."
"All right, let's go then."
The door slides shut behind them. I stay under the bed with my treasure. Mine, all mine.
***
Week of 4-8: What is your most treasured possession and why?
I could say my toys are my most treasured possessions: small and shiny and jingly, they keep me entertained during the long hours I spend alone in Data's quarters.
I could say my tail is my most treasured possession: long and smooth and perfectly groomed, I couldn't jump or even walk straight without it.
I could even say my life's my most treasured possession. That would make me sound very deep and wise, wouldn't it? So much for your average sleepy house cat.
But if I had to be perfectly honest, there's only one thing I really consider precious, the one thing I couldn't live without: my dear old Data.
Because remember: it's not the human (or android) who owns the cat; it's the other way round, baby.
***
Week of 4-29: Trust
"Here, kitty. Kitty kitty."
I sniff at the stranger's hand from a distance. Is he a friend? An enemy? There's something about him, my feline sixth sense tells me I shouldn't trust him.
This place is still so new to me, the metallic-smelling two-legged creature brought me here only yesterday. He constantly talks to me. He makes funny noises, the ones he uses most are "Spot" and "Data". I think he's trying to tell me what his name is. Couldn't he just meow properly? That would be so much easier.
There are other two-legged creatures in this place, each one with a different smell. This one smells weird, a bit like plastic but not quite. He also has a funny thing in front of his eyes. I wonder how he can see where he's going.
"Come on, cat. Come here!"
"Jeordie, Spot has been aboard for only 36 hours, he is still disoriented. Give him some time."
"But I wanna play. Why have a kitty if you can't play with it?"
"You will have to win his trust."
"I think a couple of cat treats will do."
"Jeodie? You are not going to tease him or pull his tail, are you?"
"Who, me? Never."
I retreat under the bed. I don't like this creature, I don't like it at all.