Lost Past; A Star Trek Story

Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation characters. 

 Easter

    Back on the bridge, Deanna stood up, turning around to face the science station. “Data, what were you thinking?”

    “What do you mean?”

    “With Westerfield right then?”

    “What did I miss?” Wil asked.

    Data didn’t respond. “Data?” She asked again.

    He turned around. “Westerfield is not a nice person. Read his personnel file.”

    “But to test the man on the bridge?”

    “He is a uniform. Nothing more. There used to be power and pride behind the badges. Now there is nothing.”

    “Oh there is something. He hates you.”

    “Good. Then my emotion is not wasted on him.”

    “There still could be a fall out Data; Picard might say something to you.” Wesley remarked.

    “The Captain is getting a sense of what is going on here. He has much more to worry about than me.” Data turned back to his work.

    Geordi, Data, and Wil were sitting around a table in Ten-Forward. The place was alive with activity. The children were parading around in their costumes. Normally, children were not allowed in Ten-Forward. Today was an exception. Guinan had converted the bar into a soda fountain. Instead of serving ale, she was serving banana splits.

   This one little girl had the three of them talking. Most all of the children had on costumes they recognized except her. There were lambs, Easter eggs, Bible figures, ducks; every imaginable Easter idea was covered, with the exception of this little girl.

    Wil got her attention. She was sad as she came over to their table.

    “What’s your name?” Geordi asked.

    “Angelica,” she said shyly. 

    “What are you supposed to be?” Wil asked with a smile.

    “No,” she smiled and giggled. “You have to guess.”

    Data’s mind began to wonder. He was sitting in a study. It was covered from floor to ceiling with media. He knew what the books were. He recognized their form. However, there were other forms that he didn’t recognize. 

    She called to him, “what’s today?”

    “I do not know!” He called back. There was silence.

    “No, what is today?” She asked again.

    “March 28th, Sunday.” He got up to find her and the answer to her question. As he turned, he jumped. She was standing behind him wearing a sheer green teddy with multi-colored egg shaped objects hanging from it. “What are you?” He asked playfully.

    “I am a jellybean tree.” She modeled her costume with delight.

    “What is a jellybean?”

    “They are these wonderful little candies that I love.”

    “I have never eaten a jellybean.”

    “Try one,” she giggled.

    Data smiled, noticing the little girl again. “You look like a jellybean tree.”

    She shrieked, running from the room between Captain Picard and Admiral Westerfield.

    “I did not think my guess was that bad.” They started talking about other things.

    The little girl came back dragging a lady in a blue accented uniform behind her. “Angelica,” she said with frustration in her voice as the little girl continued to drag her toward their table.

    “Tell her, tell her, tell her,” Angelica begged out of breath.

    “Tell her what?” Geordi asked.

   “What the Golden man thought my costume was?”

   “I am really sorry sirs,” her mother apologized.

    Data looked directly at the disheveled lady, “I merely stated, I thought her costume favored a jellybean tree.”

    Angelica shrieked again, jumping up and down with excitement. “That’s right! That’s right! All day long everyone has been trying to guess. Finally,” she sighed. “Someone got it right.” She handed Data a bag.

    “Jellybeans?”

    “Yes, I love jellybeans,” stretching the word love out as only a child can. “They are the greatest.”

    “Thank you.” Data smiled. 

    “Oh no. Thank you.” She left, dragging the poor lady behind her.

    “Well Mr. Data, you made her day.” Deanna remarked. She was wearing the same dress Sher had worn the first day he met her. Much to Sher’s credit, the dress looked much better on her than Counselor Troi. He thought he was going to die inside.

    “I must go.” He held the chair for Deanna. She sat down with a smile. “I am going to take my jellybeans,” he tossed the bag in the air catching it, “and run.” He said playfully.

    Deanna felt darts being thrown at Data from Westerfield.