by Scarab Dynasty

There had been a child in this room.

The décor and recreational items strewn about him were evidence enough to support this conclusion. Most of the room was tinged in shades of light blue and white from a thin coating of frost, but of course, Data did not feel the cold.

These were the quarters of a young child, most likely between the ages of six and nine but likely not older than ten. The haphazard style in which they had been tossed about suggested something akin to the “wild party”, which the entire crew of the USS Tsiolkovsky had apparently been undergoing not long before their deaths, yet somehow he suspected that this particular room’s occupant usually kept it in this disordered state, anyway. Most children did seem to have a peculiar aversion to organization.

A teddy bear sat immobile against an equally frozen pillowcase. Sheets were hard as boards. A 3D magnetic puzzle which was intended to be shaped like a rabbit upon completion lay on the floor, ripped apart by clumsy hands. Whether this was the result of some kind of plagued madness sweeping throughout the ship, Data couldn’t tell.

‘The kid could have just been having a tantrum before this all started, for all we know,’ Geordi said. He made the remark without humour. They had both chosen to return temporarily with a second away team to aid in the examination of the Tsiolkovsky, before the bodies could be reclaimed for autopsy, and later returned to their respective families or otherwise donated to research, as was becoming increasingly more popular amongst certain cultures. Data suspected that Geordi was regretting his decision to come.

There was no sign of the room’s expected child inhabitant. The bedroom was remarkably unisexual in nature and could apparently have belonged to either gender. They wouldn’t be certain until they can obtain a copy of the Tsiolkovsky’s records.

Still, though, no sign of the child. Perhaps he or she had been one of those already discovered in the next room, coated in a substantial layer of ice crystals. Bodies blue with cold, some out of uniform or general clothing, some standing upright in freezing showers. Others sprawled over control panels and pool tables, like drunks sprawled over bars and as for what was happening in the Bar itself, one could only speculate. Soon enough, the bodies would be beamed back to the Enterprise so that autopsies could be carried out to confirm what was already blatantly obvious. Every inhabitant aboard the station had been either frozen to death, sucked into the vacuum of space through open airlocks, or had been caught up in their own folly in some other way, leaving the crew of the Enterprise to catalogue and examine the remains of the aftermath.

And apparently, to get… upset, about it.

That was the correct choice of sentiment for the occasion, Data felt sure. The atmosphere amongst the bridge crew had been sombre and quiet back on board, and Data theorised that it would remain so for a while to come. At least until explanations could be found for the entire crew of the Tsiolkovsky.

“Some party,” Geordi had whistled through his teeth upon beaming down to witness the damage to the Tsiolkovsky. Data was beginning to understand what he had meant.

Of curious note: This particular child’s parents had provided their offspring’s viewing port with curtains. Genuine cotton-pressed curtains embossed with what appeared to be cats. There was no need for such accessories, of course, when the density and shading of the force field “windows” on board every Starfleet vessel could be easily adjusted to suit any sleeping requirements, and most of a starship’s light would be otherwise artificial. A novelty, then, perhaps? Something the child’s parents had thought amusing. It was not uncommon for humans to prescribe value to unusual items. A personality trait he had been having some difficulty in emulating, as of late.

A child had died. Negative. An entire ship had become victim of some bizarre outbreak of irrationality which had taken their lives. Them and all their children. It would be the Enterprise’s job to discover the reasons behind this tragedy.

It was a motivating ambiguity. A mystery to be solved.

‘You find anything else, Data?’ Geordi appeared in the doorway seconds later, and immediately noted the room; Data surmised that he had probably been standing here for a longer period of time than was strictly necessary for someone doing a simple evidence check. He looked at Data expectantly. ‘You’re still here. These quarters are all empty, right?’

‘Affirmative, Geordi.’

Geordi sighed. An expression of sadness, or, occasionally fatigue, either of which was possible at the present time where Geordi was concerned. Data theorised the former was more likely. It should have been difficult, he supposed, to precisely read the expressions of the man whose eyes were always hidden behind the high tech technology of his VISOR, yet somehow, Geordi seemed simpler to comprehend than many of the other Enterprise Crew members had been. Perhaps it was something to do with Geordi’s unique nature concerning machines of all types, much less a sentient one. Or perhaps he had proven to be merely more patient than the others had been. Data found that curious. Geordi has walked in a circle around the room, as if inspecting even though Data has already specified there to be nothing here of importance. ‘Darn it. This kind of thing never gets any easier, does it?’

‘Easier?’

‘You know. To understand. To —to get through.

‘It is a mystery, Geordi, like any other. I sometimes find it difficult to discern between how… easy each individual mission will be. Surely a mission’s success rate varies depending upon the available facts of the time. In that sense, a mission such as this could in fact, be easier to solve than say, our encounters at Farpoint Station.’

‘Data,’ Geordi’s voice softens at last an octave as he shakes his head. Data is now ninety five percent positive that Geordi’s tone is one of sadness. ‘That’s… not what I meant.’ Data gazed at Geordi firmly, noting the engineer rubbing his gloved hands together to ward off the cold. Only data stood looking reasonably comfortable in the standard Starfleet uniform and containment suit. ‘Just a few hours ago these people were probably organizing shift rotas and planning shore leaves and planning to visit their equivalent of Ten Forward.’

‘Or playing games,’ Data observed. Geordi closely as he approached the ice hard curtains, with seemingly the same scepticism concerning their practicality as Data had expressed earlier. Even given the situation, it was curious to merely humans in unnatural situations. ‘Exactly. There was a kid in here, Data. A real, human child. And there were so many more on this ship that we might’ve been able to save if we’d been faster, so… well,’ he shook his head. Data could only appreciate the loss of human life as something regretful. Perhaps this, then, had given him reason to linger longer in this area.

‘Damn it, what the heck were they doing here? It doesn’t make any sense, Data, it’s like they all took leave of their senses.’

‘And we believe this temporary loss of judgment apparently lead to their destruction?’ Data suggested. He traced Geordi’s crystallised footsteps, preserved in the frost, through the cold of the room. The possibility of this room belonging to a young female increased by twenty percent as Data becomes aware of a small toy doll and a vivid pink, childishly decorated PADD gathering ice crystals on the table.

Data waited infinitely patiently for Geordi to continue. ‘I guess what I meant was that we’ll always see stuff like this, wherever we go. We hope not to, that we won’t have to witness it, but it still happens. It’s never the same twice, but it’s always just as bad, Data. Looking around, seeing what’s happened because you weren’t there to prevent it. I.’ Geordi paused. Or perhaps, hesitated would be a more appropriate choice of word. ‘…I was talking about feelings, I guess. How this makes you feel.’

‘I am incapable of such sentiments Geordi, while I am equipped with a respect for the value of all living creatures, I am not yet certain if I possess the emotional capabilities to understand the implications that come with the absence of them.’

‘Yeah,’ Geordi mumbled, brushing ice off the surface of a desk with a gloved finger. ‘Yeah, I know. Sorry, I didn’t mean…’

‘I have not taken offence,’ Data answered. ‘Perhaps then, Geordi, the word “easy”, to be a highly subjective one.’

‘I wonder if the kid was born on a ship, what do you think?’ Geordi asked.

Data blinked, trying to make the logical jump from one chain of thought to this other, unrelated one, seemingly without a pause.

‘I fail to see the relevance that has to our previous discussion.’

There isn’t any real relevance Data,’ Geordi said, patiently. ‘Not like that, anyway, just… just think about it, okay? Lots of Starfleet children are born on ships or starbases, rather than ground based colonies. I was just wondering… if this kid had ever seen things like that. Space is beautiful and all, but… I just kind of hope this kid got to see a real snow storm, before this,’ he shrugged. ‘This’d be one really awful way to see your first frost, right?’

Data opened his mouth, paused, closed it again, and then finally worked out his response: ‘I am uncertain as to the purpose of this extrapolation,’ he admitted after a moment of silence. True, it was a part of human nature (the nature of many species, in fact) to explore the loss of a comrade, or even a man with whom they had no former acquaintanceship, but he was unaware of exactly what useful purpose dwelling on such thoughts could serve. ‘Unless that is,’ he paused. ‘The exercise is a cathartic one.’

‘Yeah. A banishing of demons, that’s one way of looking at it,’ Geordi said. ‘And there was some crazy demon going to work on this ship, let me tell you –figure of speech, Data,’ he said quickly, before Data could enquire as to the nature of a non-corporeal, malevolent entity on board the Tsiolkovsky.

‘Query: Is it a usually successful means of dealing with a difficult situation?’

‘It’s certainly a better way than drowning it in synthehol,’ Geordi managed a laugh, this time, which was somewhat motivating. ‘You should try it and find out. The catharsis, I mean. Though then again, the synthehol might work, too.’ Geordi managed another –again, sad– smile, and…

It is doubtful that any child would have survived the events that destroyed the Tsiolkovsky.’ Data said the only think he could think of which he deemed relevant, and was confused to see Geordi swallow, slightly. ‘Therefore it would be… illogical and pointless for me to over analyse the situation. Instead, the dead should be recalled as what they were in life, rather than how they finally met their end.’ It seemed a logical theory. After all, some of the dead crewmen they had uncovered today had been found in somewhat awkward situations. Data doubted very much they would have wished to be remembered in this manner. ‘I believe I understand.’

‘Spoken like a true scientist,’ Geordi said in a quiet voice which android ears could only just discern. Data immediately wondered that perhaps he had said something wrong. Any opportunity to ask directly, though, was interrupted by a familiar chime.

‘Riker to Group A, we’re ready to beam back here, stand by for transport on your mark.’

‘That’s our cue,’ Geordi said, tapping his combadge. ‘Think we’re done here, Commander, and ready for beam up. Come on, Data, let’s get out of here before we get anymore creeped out than we already are.’

It was a few seconds later, when Data did not respond that Geordi looked his way again, to see Data examining the small magnetic construct, still frozen to the floor. ‘Data?’

‘The child,’ Data said, running the word several times through his memory banks to make sure he…

He wasn’t certain what he was trying to make sure of, only that he needed to think about it. Curious. ‘It was… most likely a female human.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Geordi’s tone was one of sympathy, which then turned to curious interest. ‘Wait, no, I don’t, what about it, Data?’

Data’s head titled slightly within the protective atmospheric suit. ‘She never had time to complete her game,’ he said, eventually, pointing at the magnetic puzzle pieces, ice-crystal coated and frozen where they had scattered.

There was a vacuum-like moment of silence, as Data ran through this fact fifteen more times in the three seconds it took Geordi to reach out and grip Data’s shoulder through the pressure suit. It took Data a few seconds to correctly interpret the gesture. ‘Come on, Data, let’s get out of here.’

Data did not protest.

Still, a feedback loop seemed to dwell unnecessarily on the image of the equally unnecessary curtains, hanging in the small child’s bedroom, and an unfinished magnetic puzzle on an ice cold floor.