Lost in Geeklandia

by E. J. Russell

  Gideon took off his glasses and polished the lenses with the hem of his shirt. “And I can recite all of the Ferengi Rules of Acquisition. Even the ones that don’t exist.”

  “The ones that don’t exist? How does that work?”

  Charlie dug around in her purse and tossed a dollar onto the table. “Because of the Unwritten Rule. ‘When no appropriate rule applies, make one up’.”

  Daniel pulled out his wallet and held a dollar up between two fingers. “I’m doomed, aren’t I?” He grinned at her, and she answered with that wide killer smile, plucking the bill out of his hand.

  “I warned you.”

  “Cool your jets, Daniel-san.” Gideon anted up with his own bet. “We’ll go easy on you. Full questions only, and we’ll restrict them to the original series, Next Gen, and DS9. But.” He held up a finger. “You have to declare the series when you state your question, or we’re allowed to answer based on anything in the entire canon, even if it’s not the show you intended.”

  “Harsh.”

  Gideon sniffed. “Star Trek trivia is not for weenies.”

  “I get that.”

  “All-righty then. Play moves clockwise. Each player asks a question of the person on his or her left. You throw something in the pot at each turn. No winning by default—you have to answer the last question correctly or the pot carries forward into a new round. Everyone ready?”

  Lindsay stood up and placed her pillow neatly into the corner of the sofa.

  Daniel looked up at her. “Is this another unwritten rule? You have to stand up to ask your question?”

  “Oh, I don’t play.”

  Gideon waved a hand airily. “Lin indulges our geek obsessions, but she doesn’t partake.”

  “How can you live with these guys and not drink the Trek Kool-Aid?”

  She sidled past the coffee table. “I watch the shows with Charlie and Gideon sometimes, but the only series I really liked was Deep Space Nine.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “I just did. It wasn’t as…as neat as the others, I guess. The characters weren’t all super smart and competent. They were just trying to make a bad situation the best it could be.”

  “You never told us that before, Lin.” Charlie sat forward and her knee bumped Daniel’s thigh. Should he move over to give her room now that Lindsay had gone?

  Nah.

  “I didn’t think it mattered much.” Lindsay smiled, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “You all go ahead. I’ll make brownies for us.”

  Daniel frowned after her as she walked into the kitchen.

  Charlie inched closer. “What’s wrong?”

  “Seems a little cold, playing something she can’t join in.”

  Charlie glanced over at Lindsay, who hummed as she opened cupboards and pulled out ingredients. “She likes the company.” She kept her voice low. “I think she’s interested in some of the stuff we do, especially in a couple of the online games. But she won’t play. I think she’s too afraid of being wrong. Her aunt—”

  “Excuse me.” Gideon rapped on the coffee table. “Are we playing trivia or not?”

  “Sorry, G. Go ahead.”

  “Fine. Daniel, since you’re on my left, this one’s for you. I’ll make it an easy one. In the game of fizzbin, what is a schralk?”

  Christ. I am so screwed.

  An hour later, he’d blown through all the cash in his wallet and resorted to the strip-trivia option. Since Charlie was on his left, all his questions got directed to her and he hadn’t tripped her up once.

  How fricking hot was that?

  Sure, he’d already lost both shoes and one sock, with the other one in serious danger in the current pot, but he almost didn’t give a shit.

  “All right, man. Hit me.”

  Gideon steepled his fingers, a smug smile on his face. “How many times did Spock get lucky?”

  Daniel squinted at the ceiling. “You have to extrapolate, since he never got the onscreen action that Kirk did. I’d say four…no, five.”

  “Five?” Gideon imitated an annoying buzzer. “Wrong. I’d have taken two. Three if you could name the episodes, but five?”

  “I know what you’re thinking. The ice age chick and the spore planet with those criminally fugly jumpsuits. But I still say five.”

  “Who’s number three?”

  “Nurse Chapel.”

  “That didn’t count. The aliens made them do it.”

  “You should have defined luck then.”

  Gideon’s eyebrows lowered behind his glasses. “Who’s four?”

  “His Vulcan fiancée.”

  “What? He never even touched her.”

  “Exactly my point. She didn’t love him. She’d take his status and money, but she planned to screw that Stonn meathead whenever Spock was off-planet. Since he didn’t marry her, I’d call that luck.” He held up a hand. “Before you ask, five is the Romulan commander.”

  “That was just a diversionary tactic so Kirk could steal the cloaking device.”

  Daniel snorted. “Yeah. So Spock was lucky she didn’t vaporize him when she found out he was only using her. Five. I win.”

  Charlie burst out laughing. “He’s got you, G.” She turned to Daniel, her hand raised in the Vulcan “live long and prosper” split-fingered salute. He matched her gesture in a high-five, followed by a double fist-bump, they way they’d always done as kids.

  “It’s not fact. It’s opinion.” Gideon flounced around in his chair. “Tosh. You can’t call that one in his favor.”

  Toshiko lifted her gaze from her tablet and studied them, unsmiling. “Anything not explicitly excluded is allowed.”

  “But that answer can’t be proven.”

  “Very well. The question is disallowed. The bets carry forward.” She resumed reading.

  “But…but…” Gideon spluttered. “I need a drink.” He got up and stalked to the kitchen.

  Charlie leaned closer to Daniel, and her summery scent invaded his senses. “You may have pwned Gideon, but I still say you can’t blame Spock for that.”

  “You taking his side again? He was a total douche.”

  Charlie straightened her spine. There it is. The old sparkle in her eyes whenever she rose to his challenge. “Spock is never a douche.”

  “He did a hell of an impression then. Vulcans aren’t supposed to lie, but he did it upside down and sideways in that episode.”

  “He didn’t want to do it. It was Starfleet orders.” She leaned in, almost nose to nose with him. “It was his job to do it.”

  “What about her job? You think the Romulans would have let her keep her command after a snafu like that? Hell, they probably executed her.”

  Gideon plopped down into his chair and cleared his throat. “Guys? We’re in the middle of a game here.”

  They both ignored him.

  “He felt bad about it.”

  “Vulcans don’t feel.”

  She mock-scowled and smacked him on the biceps. “They do so feel. But they repress. It’s a cultural imperative.”

  He laughed and caught her hand before she could whack him again. “There you go again. Whenever you’re losing, you resort to violence.”

  “I never lose. But you’re evading, as usual. If you…”

  She glanced at their hands where they rested on his knee, their fingers interlaced. Her breath hitched and when she raised her head to meet his gaze, his heart ricocheted off his rib cage.

  Yes. This. Now.

  He pulled their twined hands to his chest and she swayed toward him, unresisting.

  “So,” Lindsay said brightly from behind Charlie’s shoulder. “Brownies, anyone?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Geekronym: ROM

  Translation: Read-only memory

  Definition: A class of electro
nic storage medium. Data stored in ROM cannot be modified, or can be modified only slowly or with difficulty.

  “Charles. Charles.”

  Charlie blinked and tore her gaze away from Daniel’s bare foot. “What?”

  “Pay attention. New round, and I am about to dominate. I’ve got twenty in this pot. Equivalent value bets, please, cash or clothing accepted.”

  “Oh. Right.” After her argument with Daniel about the Romulan commander, she hadn’t been able to concentrate. She’d actually missed one of the questions he’d lobbed at her. “Daniel, are you sure you want to keep going?”

  “Give up? Never. I can’t get them all wrong. I watched this stuff for hours with you when we were kids.” He took off his shirt and threw it onto the table on top of Gideon’s twenty. “I’m in.”

  “Uh…” After one glance at the golden skin of Daniel’s back, she averted her eyes, her heart stuttering in her chest. Get away. She had to get away. “Deal me out of this one. I’ve got to…um…” She scuttled down the hallway into her bedroom and collapsed into the chair behind her desk. While the sight of Daniel’s bare foot had mesmerized her, his chest shocked her out of her fog of obliviousness.

  Stupid stupid stupid. How could she have been so stupid? She’d worked with her algorithm for so long that she’d started thinking of Stage Two as nothing more than a data story. A simple collection of statistics that described a person’s relationship expectations. She’d been so freaked out over basic communication that she’d forgotten one of the key indicators for Stage Two status—the desire for extended physical intimacy.

  Stage Twos wanted sex.

  Not the uncomplicated one-night, no-strings hook-ups of a Stage One. No, they were emotionally invested, at least for the few months the romance lasted.

  What made her think she could pull this off? Gideon always told her, Leave the lying to the experts, Charles, because you truly suck at it. She pressed her hands to her heated chest. Oh lord. The first time Daniel made a move, she’d give herself away for sure.

  Maybe she should tell him everything. He remembered how much AGS meant to her, he’d said so tonight. He might understand her reasons. Even help pull off the charade.

  But how would he feel about her once he’d found out she’d only agreed to this date because of a bet? After his last girlfriend played him, he might not be exactly…neutral about the concept. Look how he still blamed Spock for lying to the Romulan commander. Job and duty weren’t enough to excuse that kind of betrayal, not in Daniel’s book.

  Her eyes stung and she pressed her fingers against her eyelids. You’ve lost a chance you never knew you wanted.

  But if she couldn’t have his friendship, at least she could have AGS. That was the important thing, right?

  So she couldn’t afford to get distracted or mope about things that weren’t possible. Fake Stage Two or not, she had to make it at least look real, and that didn’t include hiding away in her techno-cave when her pretend match was just down the hallway.

  Shirtless.

  Lord.

  …

  “Charles,” Gideon called, “get your tush back here or we’re going on without you. Charles? Hmmmph.” He faced Daniel across the mound of booty on the table. “Guess it’s you and me for this one.”

  “Let’s give her a couple more minutes.”

  “Please. Star Trek trivia lingers for no man. Or woman.” He tossed a twenty onto the coffee table. “Final round, big boy. Show me what you’ve got.”

  “You’ve already won all my cash, my shoes, socks, and shirt. Can’t we call the game in your favor?”

  Gideon flattened his hand on his chest. “Abandon the field before my enemies are totally crushed? Never. Let’s make it interesting, though. All of my winnings,” he pushed his pile of cash and clothing into the center of the table, “against your pants.”

  “You think I’m stupid enough to fall for that? The walk back to my car will be ventilated enough without my shirt and shoes.”

  “Oh fine. I’ll give you a lifeline. You can even go first. Is that incentive enough?”

  Christ. Charlie and her friends took their geekdom seriously. This game was so cutthroat it should come with pirate sound effects. While he never backed down from a challenge, if he expected to hold his own and hang with her—and he did—he needed to seriously up his firepower.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel caught Charlie lurking in the shadow of the hallway. Surrender was not an option, but maybe it was time to warp the rules in his favor.

  “You’re on.”

  “Place your bet, Charles.”

  “No. I’m…I’m out.”

  Daniel scooted forward until he sat on the edge of the cushion and stared into Gideon’s eyes. Let’s see who blinks first. “Okay. Original series. What was the first episode—”

  “‘The Man Trap’.” Gideon reached for the pot, but Daniel held up his hand.

  “Not so fast. The first episode that Charlie ever saw.”

  Gideon’s mouth dropped open. “That’s not a fair question.”

  “Why not? It was one of the first three series. That was your only stipulation.”

  “This game is about the shows. The characters, the stories, or the actors. Not the viewers.”

  “Then you should have said so.”

  “I’m saying so now.”

  “Too late. The question’s on the table.”

  “He is correct, Gideon.” Toshiko didn’t bother to look up from her tablet. “Anything not explicitly excluded—”

  “Is allowed. I know. But—”

  “Give it up, man. Boss says you’ve got to answer.” Daniel leaned in. “Unless you’re folding. You telling me I know more about Charlie than you do?”

  Gideon split his scowl equally between him and Charlie. “Fine. I’ll say… ‘The Trouble with Tribbles.’ That’s everyone’s gateway drug.”

  “Wrong.” Daniel leaned back and rested his arms along the back of the couch. “‘The Devil in the Dark.’ The one with the alien that looked like a giant pile of dog vomit.”

  “Silicon-based life,” Charlie murmured, and drifted over to sit on the end of the couch, inside the circle of his arm, although she didn’t touch him.

  Daniel grinned at her. “You got that the first time Spock picked up one of those silver eggs. You fell in love with the science way before you fell in love with the stories or the characters.”

  Gideon ripped off his glasses and threw them onto the table. “How can I not know that?”

  “Perhaps because all your conversations, even those concerning Star Trek, center around yourself.” Toshiko barely glanced up from her tablet screen. “Consequently, you never asked.”

  Daniel smirked at him. “Guess even you can’t get them all right.”

  “Fine. I missed. But you have to get one right, too, or the round goes on.” He narrowed his eyes in a squint worthy of Dr. Evil.

  “Gideon.” Charlie’s voice held a warning. “Don’t be a dick.”

  Daniel turned toward her. “Is he vindictive as well as competitive?”

  “You’ve no idea. Remember that TNG episode where Data locks down the Enterprise computer with a password the length of I-5? He’s asked that one before.”

  He draped his arm across her shoulders and gave her a brief sideways hug. Gah. Heat. Skin. Retreat. “I’ll bet you got it right anyway.”

  Her eyes widened and her smile wobbled a little. “Absolutely.”

  “For your information…” Gideon settled his glasses back onto his nose. “I am never a dick unless it’s specifically requested. So. Back at you. DS9. Name three of the station’s runabouts.”

  Christ. Gideon’s memory for minutiae was going to get him arrested for indecent exposure. “You told me I could have a lifeline.”

  He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fin
e. Charles—”

  “Lindsay.” Daniel beckoned her over from the kitchen where she’d just removed another tray of brownies from the oven. “I’m counting on you.”

  “Me? I’m no good at this.” She set the pan on a cooling rack and crept into the living room, oven mitts still on her hands.

  “Come on. It’s DS9. Your favorite. What do you say?”

  Lindsay bit her lip and stared at her feet. Ah, shit. Well, it had been a calculated risk. He reached for his belt buckle.

  “Rubicon, Orinoco, and Rio Grande.”

  Gideon gaped at her soft words. “How…?”

  “They were all named for rivers.” She shrugged. “Geography was my favorite subject in school.”

  Charlie jumped up and hugged her roommate, oven mitts and all. Daniel laughed and scooped the pot away from Gideon.

  “And that, I believe, is game.”

  …

  When Daniel stood and stretched, displaying an alarming expanse of muscular back, Charlie dropped her gaze and found herself face-to-butt with Daniel’s perfect rear end. Not helping. Thank God he hadn’t lost his pants in that last round or she might have spontaneously combusted. She ducked her head but not before she caught Lindsay giving her a go-for-it look worthy of Gideon.

  “I’m so glad you stopped by, Daniel.” Lindsay shook his hand. “This is the first time I’ve ever helped anyone win a game.”

  He grinned at her. “You didn’t just help. You won. So technically,” he gestured to the scatter of money and clothing on the table, “all this belongs to you. But I’ll throw myself on your mercy. Can I reclaim my clothes? It’s not that warm outside.”

  “Of course, but the winnings aren’t really mine.” She tucked her hands behind her back. “Please. You take them.”

  “Nope. You got the answer. You win the prize.”

  He shrugged into his shirt and Charlie could breathe again.

  “Next time,” Gideon said, collecting the plate of brownie crumbs, “you won’t be so lucky.”

  “Next time, I’ll be prepared.” He slipped on his shoes and socks. “Gideon, Lindsay. A pleasure.”