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 

Door number 2

The other door emptied them into a kitchen. There were dirty dishes in the sink. Pots where on the stove with food in them. There was the table with the glass top and the white iron vine pattern on the legs and the gold leaves, along with its four matching chairs. An open doorway led to a living room area. There was a glass half full on the coffee table. An electric blanket was on, draped over the couch. There was a fire crackling in the fireplace. A lava lamp bubbled in the corner. Pictures of people covered one wall.

    “This place looks lived in. Are we on the same ship?”

    “Yes we are.”

    Geordi examined the pictures on the wall. “Data!” He exclaimed. “There are pictures of you here.”

    Data never looked up. He picked up the glass, tasting its contents. It was sweet. Watered down, suggesting it had (at one point) had ice in it. He turned the fireplace, the electric blanket, and the lava lamp off. From the living room they could see a bed. It had been slept in. There were clothing scattered on the floor. Following the little hallway, there was a tiny bathroom. Towels had been thrown over the bathtub. Across from the bathroom was a small storage closet. The other door opened up into a tremendous closet.

    “This is much homier than the bedroom we saw before. I would say our owner actually lives here.” Data was staring at the bed. It had a leopard print comforter on it. Adorned with a huge scrollwork iron headboard. The windows were dressed with sheer black curtains. Geordi ducked into the bathroom as Data rushed past him back into the closet. Geordi watched as he opened a jewelry armoire. He found a strange piece of jewelry with a frog on it. “What is that?”

    “It is a belly button ring.” Data sighed. He placed it gently back into the armoire, closing the doors. “Next.” He was trying to be energetic and happy. It was not an easy task.

    “Data, you don’t have to put up a false front around me.”

    “I have too. I can’t endure this if I do not.” He stopped to look at the pictures. There was a picture of him in that ridiculous yellow Hawaiian shirt. He focused on a picture of them huddled together in front to the fireplace. He couldn’t remember that moment. “Why is a picture of Guinan here?”

    “Guinan?” Geordi moved in for a closer look. He raised an eyebrow. “What is she wearing?”

    Data tapped the picture. “We were summoned back to Earth, San Francisco to be exact to examine triolic waves.”

    “Yes,” Geordi remembered. “They had found your severed head at a dig.”

    “That was the first time I met Guinan. That is what she was wearing that day.” He thought for a moment. “I never thought from reading his stories that Mart Twain would have been so irritating.” Data smirked. 

    “What?”

    “Remember industrious Jack London. That little boy that I ran his legs off.”

    “Yes, but you paid him well. Oh, and that landlady that Picard promised her a roll in our play. That was fun.”

    “I do not remember seeing Sher.” Data looked lost and bewildered.

    “Let’s go exploring.” Geordi patted him on the shoulder. 

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