Star Trek: The Next Generation:
Christmas Revelations
"Operations Officer's personal log, Stardate 44977.46. It has been 16 days, 13 hours, 31 minutes and 23 seconds since my 'break-up' with Lieutenant D'Sora. In my study of human relationships, I have found that humans tend to mourn the conclusion of a relationship for a variable period of time. Because of my inability to experience emotions, I am incapable of partaking in this curious ritual, nor do I feel a particular need to mourn, as humans do. This recent episode has made it all the more clear to me that my attempts to emulate human behaviour may prove to be nothing but a futile exercise."
Lieutenant Commander Data sat at a table in Ten Forward, watching Counsellor Troi enjoying every bite of her chocolate sundae. The emotional reaction to the sensation caused by the contact of food with the humanoid's palate was fascinating, although equally incomprehensible to him as any other emotion. He understood how the contact of a sweet substance with the corresponding area on most species' tongues caused a chemical reaction in the brain, which produced endorphin, which in turn resulted in making the person eating the chocolate feel happy. He understood all of this in a scientific way, from an objective point of view. But what was it like, he wondered, to actually feel happy?
"Counsellor," he inquired, "may I ask you a personal question?"
Deanna Troi looked up from her chocolate sundae. Chocolate was important to her, but so was her job as Counsellor. "What is it, Data?" she asked, smiling encouragingly.
"You and Commander Riker had a romantic relationship once, had you not?"
Troi leaned back in her chair, momentarily taken aback by Data's inquiry. "You're right," she told him, "that is a personal question." She sighed deeply. "Yes," she answered him and an the memories of her time together with Riker caused a smile to appear on her face. "We did have a relationship," she added. "Why are you so interested in my love life all of a sudden?"
"I am attempting to determine the correct emotional response to the breaking up of my relationship with Lieutenant D'Sora," Data explained, "but I fear the task may be beyond my reach, since my previous experience with human emotions is extremely limited."
It began to dawn on Troi, and she smiled as she leaned forward again. "And now you want to know what my reaction was when Will dumped me?"
Data processed the inquiry momentarily and then inclined his head. "Essentially, yes."
A sly smile crept up Deanna's lips. "Well, first of all, he didn't dump me, I dumped him."
The android nodded, apparently already satisfied with Troi's reply. "I will direct my questions to Commander Riker, then," he said and stood up. "Thank you for your time, Counsellor."
"Data, wait," Troi said as she motioned for the android to sit down again, which he did. "That was meant as a joke. Will and I..." She paused and steepled her fingers as she looked down at her hands. "After his transfer to the Potemkin, we... lost contact." She shrugged. "It's hard to maintain a relationship over subspace, and neither of us really made an effort to keep our relationship alive."
"So the end to your relationship came about through mutual consent?" Data asked. When Troi merely nodded, the android inclined his head and emulated a surprised, yet pleased expression. "Then the ending of the romantic relationship between you and Commander Riker is similar to the break-up of Lieutenant D'Sora and myself. May I ask how you dealt with the termination of your relationship with Commander Riker?"
Deanna raised her eyebrows and blew air through her lips. "To be honest, I don't know, exactly. I mean, I felt a loss, of course. Like something was missing in my life." She smiled faintly, apparently deep in thought. "Something was obviously missing, of course. But I think I pretty much managed to go on with my life after that."
"There was no feeling of... remorse?" Data asked. "Did you not mourn for the loss of your mate?"
"A little, I suppose," Troi admitted thoughtfully. "But I managed to get over it." She smiled at him. "And so will you."
"But," the android began, seemingly perplexed, "I do not feel any remorse, nor do I feel... sorry for ending our relationship. It is that lack of emotional reaction that I am concerned about. By determining the appropriate emotional response in this particular situation, I hope to achieve insight into human emotions. Perhaps by... emulating such a response, I will become more human."
"Data..." Troi began, but paused for a lengthy moment before looking at him. "The way in which people deal with loss varies from one person to another. You need to find your own method of processing the experiences you and Jenna shared. By simply pretending to feel sad in order to emulate the emotional response of humans, you deny your own perspective in this matter."
The android seemed even more puzzled than a minute ago. "Then... what should I do, Counsellor? What is the correct course of action for me to follow?"
"That's up to you," came the answer. "I can give you advice to cope with any sadness you might feel, or I can recommend holodeck programs you might use to work out your frustration. But I can't tell you what to feel."
"You forget, Counsellor," replied Data, "that I lack the capacity to feel anything." He was quiet for a moment. "I fear that my inability to adequately react in an emotional way to the termination of our relationship, dishonours the memory of the time Lieutenant D'Sora and I spent together."
"And you don't want that to happen?"
"No." Data briefly shook his head. "Although I must admit I was incapable of returning Lieutenant D'Sora's affection, the experience was enlightening and... unique. I cannot help but wonder whether an analytical, calculating response to the termination of our relationship might do injustice to Jenna's feelings."
"Sounds to me like you're concerned about preserving the integrity of the memory of your relationship," Deanna told him, "even though it didn't last very long."
"That is correct." Data processed his thoughts about the subject for a moment. "If I were to be involved in another romantic relationship, even one with the same partner, the experience would never be the same. The unique nature of my relationship with Lieutenant D'Sora causes me to file the memory of the event as important."
"So you're worried you can't give the memory of your relationship the emotional attention it deserves?"
"Essentially, yes."
Deanna smiled. "You don't need to emulate anything, Data. It looks to me like you're dealing with the break-up of your relationship just fine."
Data cocked his head to the side a bit, and pondered the Counsellor's words. An artificial attempt at a smile appeared on his face when he realised that Troi was correct: the android hadn't stopped thinking -- and, essentially, worrying -- about the break-up with Lieutenant D'Sora. In a way, he was dealing with the break-up after all.
Before he could reply, however, the blue light of the ship's transporter emerging in the middle of Ten Forward caught his attention. The previous discussion (which, for Data, seemed to have terminated in a satisfactory conclusion) was immediately stored in his memory cells for further reference, and the android saw the time right to change subjects.
"This is most unusual," he commented. "I wonder what the might have been the reason to transport a tree into Ten Forward."
Deanna threw him a surprised look before glancing around. "Let's find out," she suggested and stood up. Data accompanied her to the middle of the room, where three crewmen who beamed in together with the tree were giving each other advice on how to position it. One was arguing that the tree had to be placed in the centre of the room, while the two others felt it more appropriate to put it in a corner, out of sight.
"Excuse me," Data inquired, "is it possible that you have mistaken Ten Forward for the arboretum?"
One of the crewmen shook his head. "No, sir, we've beamed this tree right to where it's meant to be." He looked at his colleagues. "So we shouldn't move it!" he argued.
Ignoring the bickering that seemed to be going on between the three crewmen, Data proceeded with the next question. "Ah. Then may I ask the reason for your transporting a tree into the Ten Forward lounge?"
"You didn't expect us to carry it all the way from the arboretum to Ten Forward, did you?" He seemed to realise he was talking to a superior officer too late. "Sir," he quickly added.
One of the other crewmen managed to give Data a slightly more clear answer. "It's a Christmas tree," she said enthusiastically.
Troi nodded in recognition -- she had heard of Christmas trees before -- but Data shook his head. "You are mistaken," he stated. "This is a fir, also known as Picea abies."
"True," Troi explained to Data, "but it's also a Christmas tree. Or it will be, once all the decorations are in place." She smiled. "It's for the Christmas celebration tonight. You are coming, aren't you, Data?"
"At present, I do not foresee any important operations activities which should require my presence," the android replied. "I will attend the celebration, Counsellor. However, I am curious: in previous years, there has been no elaborate Christmas celebration on the Enterprise. Why does the celebration of a mostly Earth-bound tradition take place on such a large scale this year?"
"You know the families we've picked up from that stranded transport ship two days ago?" Troi asked. "Well, they've been through a lot, and Captain Picard thought it was a good idea to help get their mind off things by organising a Christmas celebration."
Data nodded. The explanation made sense to him. The transport ship had passed through the outskirts of the same dark matter nebula as the Enterprise had entered nearly 17 days ago. The dark matter wreaked havoc on both the Enterprise and the transport vessel, disabling propulsion and life support systems on the latter. When the crew received a distress call from the transport ship two days ago, the Enterprise had reversed course and gone back to the Mar Oscura dark matter nebula. They had managed to save most of the passengers of the transport, but the ship itself had been lost. Data understood that Counsellor Troi had had a busy schedule for the last two days, caring about the mental health of the families they had picked up.
"Besides, I think the Captain loves Christmas," Troi continued with a smile. "He probably sees this as an opportunity to make the rest of the crew enthusiastic about it, too."
"I never thought of the Captain as a religious man," Data commented, slightly puzzled.
Troi frowned. "Religious? What do you mean?"
"The Earth tradition of celebrating Christmas has its origin in religious tales. Practitioners of the Christian faith on Earth celebrated the birth of their saviour, Christ. The religion has declined since the late 20th century and has merged with several other traditions into a theory of humanism throughout the centuries. However, I would not exclude the possibility that there exist certain factions that still hold on to their centuries-old belief system. As is their right, of course," Data added quickly.
"And you think Captain Picard is such a... Christian?"
"I find it highly unlikely, given that I have never witnessed him pray to a deity before or turn to a god for advice," Data stated. "Yet given the fact that the Captain wishes to honour a decidedly Christian tradition in celebrating the birth of Christ, I must conclude that, however unlikely, the Captain must be religious."
Troi smiled. "Many celebrations are originally based on religious events or ceremonies, but aren't religious in nature anymore. Christmas is an example, although it usually isn't celebrated so extensively. Well, you'll see what I mean later tonight. If you are coming, that is."
"I will be there, Counsellor." Data paused for a moment and cocked his head to the side. "I find it curious that while humanity seems to have evolved beyond the need for religion, it has not evolved beyond the need for festivities and ceremonies based on religion."
"I doubt humanity will ever evolve beyond the need to have fun," Deanna admitted with a laugh. "Celebrations are fun. Well, they are most of the time. It helps us take our minds off things and relax. However much humanity will evolve in centuries to come, I don't think it will ever evolve beyond that."
****
"Security Officer's personal log, Stardate 44977.6. After a lengthy period of deep thought and intense deliberation, I am pleased to say I have reached a decision to my dilemma. The path my decision takes me will not be easy, but it is a challenge I will deal with. I will undoubtedly face many hardships and must endure unending hours of torment, but I shall go about it with my head held high, for I am a Klingon Warrior. I have faced enemies in battle, defended the honour of my house. I have even faced discommendation, but have kept my honour. I have done all this and prevailed -- I have faith in my abilities to overcome this latest challenge as well: I have decided to accept Captain Picard's invitation and join him and the senior staff in the celebration of this feast called Christmas.
Worf, the proud Klingon warrior, walked with large strides through the corridors of the Starship Enterprise. "I hate dress uniforms," he muttered to himself, glaring at an Ensign whom he thought was looking at him the wrong way. He wasn't looking forward to the Christmas celebration at all; unless he had to eat the heart of a Targ or there were pain sticks involved, how could such a feast be fun at all? And, knowing what little he did about the Earth tradition of Christmas, the celebration would not be about bloodshed or pain at all.
Approaching the turbolift, he pondered going back to his quarters, or perhaps to the holodeck to practice his bat'leth skills -- but he quickly decided against it. He had made a decision, and although he had not formally told the Captain that he would be coming, he felt it would be dishonourable to turn back now. Worf was not one to turn away from a challenge, even one as boring as to sit still for hours on end listening to one speech after another.
The turbolift doors opened, and Worf was greeted to the lift by a flashing smile from Commander Riker. "Ah, mister Worf. Nice dress."
Worf grunted and clenched his fists, but managed to hold back his anger. Getting into an argument or perhaps even a fight with the first officer was a futile manoeuvre, he knew. "Glad you approve," he retorted through his clenched teeth, and entered the turbolift. "Deck 10," he ordered.
"So," Riker told Worf, looking to break the silence. "Are you going to... I don't know... give a speech at the Christmas celebration?"
Worf looked at Riker with a momentary look of shock, but managed to cover it up by sighing deeply. "I was not aware that giving a speech was required."
Riker put up his hands defensively. "Relax, Worf. You don't have to say anything. Just... sit there and watch the proceedings."
The Klingon folded his arms. "Good," he said and looked ahead of him. As far as he was concerned, this conversation was over.
Riker thought differently. "Something tells me you're not exactly anxious about the celebration. Is it anything you want to talk about?"
"No."
The Commander sighed. Sometimes it was impossible to talk to Worf. "As you wish." If Worf wanted to silently stare at the turbolift doors, Riker would let him -- he could be as stubborn as the Klingon, he knew.
Worf continued to stare in front of him, but something inside him felt compelled to reply to Riker's question. "I do not have any connection with... Christmas," he said reluctantly. "I know what it means to many crewmembers, including you, but I want no part of it."
Riker turned around. "If you're that adamant about it, why didn't you stay in your quarters?"
"I had considered that," Worf said in his deep voice. He sighed again. "It would not be right for me to be absent while the rest of the senior crew does attend." Finally looking away from the doors, he turned to face Riker. "Captain Picard asked me to be present. He is an honourable man; I cannot refuse his request."
Smiling, Riker patted Worf on the shoulder. "Good of you to join us, mister Worf," he said as the turbolift stopped and the doors opened. "Had you stayed in your quarters, you would have missed the spectacular performance of a real Jazz band."
Worf's eyes narrowed; he sensed what was coming. "Jazz band?"
"Oh yeah," Riker replied, smiling as he walked out of the lift. "You just watch, I'll blow you all away."
For a moment, Worf remained standing in the turbolift. "You will play?" He had to fight every impulse to order the lift to return him to his quarters. He knew that Commander Riker played the trombone, but he had not heard him play it before, and that worried him. If Riker really was good at playing the trombone, wouldn't Worf have heard him play in public before?
Riker slowed down his brisk strides and eventually stopped before turning around. This was not exactly the reaction he had wanted to hear. "Is there a problem, Lieutenant?"
Worf gritted his teeth and followed Riker out of the turbolift. "No, sir. It would be... interesting... to hear you play."
Riker smiled. "That's more like it. I'm sure you'll enjoy classics such as 'Santa Claus is coming' and 'Jingle Bells', not to mention 'Santa looks a lot like Daddy'. With a Jazz twist, of course."
"Who is this... Santa Claus?" Worf inquired, hoping to change the subject away from Riker's musical skills.
Riker shrugged. "I'm not sure. He seems to be the object of fear and anxiety among the children of Earth in the 20th and 21st centuries. Children were told that if they didn't behave, Santa Claus would know about it-"
"And he would punish them?" For a few moments, the Klingon's hopes were raised; perhaps the children of ancient Earth were forced to do battle with the warrior Santa Claus in order to prove their worth. It was not a very likely possibility, he knew, but he also knew that the people of Earth weren't always the peaceful people they were now.
His hopes were quickly dashed when Riker spoke. "Something like that. The songs warn children that if they've been bad this year, they won't get any presents. No brutal punishment or anything, though. In fact, Santa Claus was known for his kindness. On Christmas Eve, he would fly on his sleigh carried by flying reindeer, and deliver presents to all the children in the world in only one night."
"Unlikely," Worf commented. "Has there ever existed such a person?"
"Probably not," Riker admitted. "Historians believe that the story of Santa Claus was part of the Christmas myth. It was probably told to give children something to look forward to, and to give special meaning to an already special day."
"Fairy tails and lies." Worf grunted in disapproval. "Your ancestors should not have deliberately told their children lies. It is not right."
"Oh?" Riker asked. "I seem to recall that Klingon history is filled with its portion of myth and improbable stories. Kahless forging the first bat'leth by dipping his hair in a volcano? Sounds pretty unlikely to me."
"That is different," Worf said firmly.
"In what way?"
"The stories about your Santa Claus are not true. The legend of Kahless the Unforgettable is."
****
"Captain's log, supplemental. While the Enterprise remains en-route to Starbase 260, where our guests from the transport ship Kumer will disembark, I have taken it upon myself to resurrect a time-honoured Earth tradition: the celebration of Christmas. I am pleased to hear that many of my crew will attend this special ceremony. I can only hope that tonight's festivities will alleviate the emotional stress the Kumer passengers have been under since the destruction of their ship."
The double doors of Ten Forward opened to grant Captain Jean-Luc Picard access to the lounge. To his satisfaction, he noted that the place had an almost mystical atmosphere to it: the lights were dimmed and candles lit the room for the most part. A Christmas tree stood in a corner of the room and was beautifully decorated with lights, ribbons and various other Christmas ornaments. Everything seemed to radiate the spirit of Christmas, from the tree right down to the mistletoe hanging above the port exit. Boxes, beautifully gift-wrapped, cluttered the floor underneath the tree; the presents were for the children of the Kumer; doctor Crusher's idea. Beverly always did have a way with children, he reflected. He couldn't say he was sorry that he did not possess those skills.
It had, in fact, been Beverly Crusher who had planted the idea of a Christmas celebration in his head. They had been talking about Christmas celebration in the Picard family, and the Captain had confided in Crusher that at times, he did miss those days. Although he did celebrate Christmas every year, privately, many of the Enterprise crewmembers were not from Earth and didn't feel any connection to the tradition. Celebrating Christmas would have no meaning to them. But with the destruction of the Kumer, a transport ship carrying mostly humans, the Christmas celebration of today had become not just a remnant of some long-lost past, but a way of getting the families and crew of the transport ship to have a good time and momentarily forget about their disaster.
With this goal in mind, and enjoying the unmistakable Christmas atmosphere in Ten Forward, Picard stepped up the raised platform in order to deliver the opening speech. A moderately dim spotlight switched on the moment he took his place in front of the assembled crowd, revealing not only the lectern he was to stand behind, but also a glass of something called 'eggnog' on it. "My friends, colleagues and honoured guests," he started. "I want to thank you all for joining me in celebrating a tradition with a history that goes back thousands of years. I speak, of course, of Christmas.
"Today is Stardate 44977," Picard continued. "It is also December 24th 2367 in the Earth calendar. On our planet, the evening of December 24th comes close to being the longest night of the year: the winter solstice. As of now, the nights will only get shorter and the days will get longer. The symbol of this event was a tree that, contrary to many other trees on Earth, never lost its green leaves: the fir. When the religious aspect of the birth of an important figure in Earth's Western religion was later integrated into this festival, the celebration of these two events was called: Christmas.
"Even later, Christmas expanded, and became not only a religious festival, but a celebration for everyone, religious or secular. Christmas became a time to enjoy life and the presence of family and friends, and to realise how fortunate we are to live in peace and have the time and means to come to this realisation. The Christmas tales by the 19th century Earth author Charles Dickens speak of this, and the message of Christmas is valid even today." He paused for a moment, looking around the room. "Christmas has always been about peace and prosperity for all mankind," Picard continued more solemnly. "In recent times, that dream has become a reality. In our unending quest for knowledge and understanding of other cultures, humanity has moved beyond national or planetary borders. We went out into space and, for the first time, discovered we were not alone.
"A new era began," Picard said to the quiet room, "an era that culminated in the founding of the Federation. The dream of Christmas had been realised: humanity no longer faced war, disease, or poverty. But there was a price to pay for the realisation of that dream. As the borders between cultures faded away, so did those cultures. Continued interaction between different species exposed Earth to alien influences. As a result, it became not only impractical, but also undesirable for mankind to cling to traditions of times past. Just as the birth of a religious icon was integrated into the winter solstice on Earth, so many traditions and cultures blended into each other, forming new, equally unique cultures.
"While alien influences have most certainly enriched humanity and its ever-changing cultures, Christmas quickly became just another holiday for just another species. This is not necessarily a bad development. It has opened the eyes of many humans to try to look beyond their own culture and to change their way of life to cope with the presence of these alien influences. This is a natural process. But the Vulcans do not celebrate Christmas, nor do the Andorians or the Tellarites. In a Federation which exists of so many different species, the human celebration of Christmas seems to have lost its place.
"But Christmas has survived," Picard said with a slight smile, "although not in the exact same form as it was celebrated and applauded in the works of Dickens. However, despite the changed times and despite the cultural influences of many species, Christmas today still is about the dream for peace and a happy life for everyone, be they human or any other race. It is a dream that has been celebrated for many centuries, and although contemporary Christmas is usually celebrated individually or in a small group, today I would like to invite everyone to participate in this special Christmas celebration. Let us realise, together, that life is worth celebrating."
Picard raised his glass, and those present followed his example and stood up as they did so. "Here's to the passengers and crew of the transport ship Kumer. This Christmas is dedicated to them, and to those who could not celebrate it with them." He fell silent for a few moments. "Celebrate life, my friends. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas" echoed throughout the room as Picard stepped out of the dim spotlight and off of the podium he had been standing on. A few moments later, that same podium was filled by a choir of children singing Christmas songs. The captain couldn't help but smile. The smell of the tree, the food, and even the sound of the children singing... It was almost like walking around in the Charles Dickens holoprogram he owned.
Now that the speech had ended and the celebration had officially begun, many attendants had left their seats and now moved about the room, talking to one another. Picard noticed, to his satisfaction, that many of the Starfleet crew and the Kumer passengers were talking to each other. It might help the passengers get their minds off the destruction of their ship, which was really what this Christmas party was all about.
"Interesting speech, Captain," Picard heard Data say to him, and he looked to see the android joined by Beverly approach him. "I was particularly intrigued by the decline of group cultures induced by the introduction of alien traditions you mentioned. I would much like to debate with you several interesting facets of this subject."
Picard held up his hand to silence Data. "Later, mister Data." He turned to the doctor. "Beverly, how are our guests holding up?"
Crusher smiled and gestured to several small crowds of people, talking among each other. "They're fine, physically speaking. As for their mental health..." she said, "I think this party is exactly what they need to unwind, forget their troubles for a while."
"No one should have to mourn with Christmas," Picard said sullenly.
"Thanks to you," Crusher added, "no one will." Occasional laughter from the conversing groups proved her point. "They're enjoying themselves. If you hadn't held this Christmas celebration for them, they would be miserable."
"I only organised this festivity because you convinced me to," Picard retorted with a smile on his face. "It seems to me like you are to thank for their happiness as much as I am, Beverly."
"Interesting," commented Data. "If the crew of the Kumer had not opted to pass through the outskirts of the Mar Oscura nebula, the transport ship would not have been damaged. Lives would not have been lost, and the Enterprise would not have rescued the surviving passengers. Consequently, those same passengers would not be able to attend this celebration, and therefore would not have any reason to be happy about it." He paused for only a moment, then turned to face Picard directly. "Would you say that the destruction of the Kumer is also to thank for the current state of happiness the passengers are in?"
Chrusher clenched her teeth. "If you'll excuse me," she said abruptly, "I'm going to see how our guests are doing." Without waiting for a reply, she promptly walked away.
"Have I said something to offend Doctor Chrusher?" Data inquired of Picard.
The captain sighed. "Data, sometimes you can be extremely rude without even realising it," he said almost in a whisper. He didn't know whether to discipline the android or to pity him -- obviously he had only been interested in a theoretical analysis of the conversation. That, Picard reflected, had been the cause of many such incidents.
"It was not my intention to be rude, sir. I was merely stating my curiosity with regard to your thanking the events that led to this celebration."
"I know, Data." Picard led the android to a quiet section of the room. "It is true that, had the accident with the Kumer not happened, this Christmas celebration would not have been organised either. But," Picard continued, looking for the right words, "that is not to say that the incident was responsible for these people having fun at this moment. To suggest otherwise... is not considered polite. Or right, for that matter."
Data nodded, reflecting on what the captain had just said. "I understand, sir. I will endeavour to refrain from suggesting other such infelicitous conclusions."
Picard forced a smile and nodded. "Glad to hear it, mister Data," he said, and quickly changed the subject. "How are you enjoying this Christmas thus far?"
"I am unsure," Data admitted. "How is one supposed to enjoy it?"
"That is difficult to explain," replied the other. "There are many ways to enjoy Christmas. Most people nowadays spend their Christmas together with their loved ones and enjoy their being together. Others go out into the streets and help the needy. Although in the Federation of modern times, there are hardly any needy to help, fortunately. Some don't celebrate Christmas at all, while others celebrate in public, despite the fact that many non-humans have no knowledge of or connection to it at all."
"It is curious," Data agreed, "how some humans continue to hold on to a tradition, even though the tradition no longer has a fixed place in modern society. In some ways, it is commendable."
"And in some ways," Picard admitted, "it's damned egocentric. I have always celebrated Christmas in private or with my family and friends. Not like this... This public display of human tradition has no meaning for... well, for you, or mister Worf, or any other non-human on this ship. There are even humans who never think to celebrate Christmas, thinking that, as you said, it has no place in current-day Earth. And... I may be forced to agree with them. Earth is no human planet anymore; it is a Federation world, populated not only by humans, but also by our galactic neighbours. There is nothing wrong with that, far from it."
He sighed deeply, and smiled as he watched the children's choir singing ancient Christmas songs. "And yet, Data," he continued, "nothing can compare with Christmas. It has a kind of atmosphere that every other festivity lacks. It's difficult to explain into words, but it's there."
"This celebration does seem to create an atmosphere in which even the most troubled of persons can enjoy themselves," Data agreed. "I am compelled to add, however, that this might be a result of the various alcoholic beverages available for consumption at this gathering."
"No," Picard said. "No, it's more than that. Christmas... It has a certain spirit that surrounds the whole tradition. An almost magical atmosphere. It's not the drinking that makes people happy, Data. It's the Christmas spirit."
"I regret that I am unable to grasp this... spirit," Data told the captain. "Understanding an essentially human tradition like Christmas may, like my quest to become human, be beyond my capacities."
"Human traditions are as complex as human emotions," Picard consoled his friend. "I'm sure that, one day, you'll be able to experience emotions as humans do. When that day comes, you'll understand the attraction of Christmas as well." He smiled. "And if not, well, you and mister Worf will have something in common." He gestured in the direction of Lieutenant Worf, who, arms folded, stood there with a perpetual frown on his face. "I think he's thoroughly enjoying himself," Picard stated.
The grimace on Worf's face was momentarily replaced by a mere hint of a smile when the choir of children stepped down from the podium. He didn't understand why these children had to sing these Christmas songs. It was of course commendable to teach one's children songs about glorious battles, but the songs these children had been singing all spoke of peace and happiness at Christmas time. Not that he didn't like peace. He simply didn't think it was wise to exclude a good battle now and then.
All around him, people were applauding; among them, Beverly Crusher, Deanna Troi, and Geordi LaForge. "Watch what's coming now," Troi was saying to Crusher. Worf had dreaded this moment, and he knew that it had arrived when he saw Will Riker walking up the podium with the rest of his band. He twitched his jaw and sighed deeply. He would simply have to endure this.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen," Riker said to the audience, "it is our pleasure to entertain you with some good old-fashioned Christmas tunes. I bet they haven't been played in decades, perhaps centuries, and certainly not in the way we're going to play them," he added with a mischievous smile on his face.
As the opening notes of an archaic Earth song called 'Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer' sounded, Worf discovered that Riker's band wasn't half that bad at playing music. Nothing, of course, could beat a Klingon opera, but at least this music didn't hurt his ears. Much. "They don't sound half bad," a voice to his right stated. It was Geordi LaForge. It might as well have been a Romulan talking to him -- Worf was not in the mood to talk.
"They play... adequately," the Klingon replied.
"You don't look so happy," observed Geordi. "That is, you look even more displeased than usual. What's wrong, Worf?"
Worf sighed, reluctant to bring this up again. "I do not wish to discuss this."
"Why not?" Geordi sure was persistent, Worf noted. An admirable trait for an engineer, no doubt, but it only aggravated the Klingon more. "It's Christmas. This is a time to enjoy yourself, Worf." He leaned back against the back of a chair. "Have you tried the eggnog yet?"
"No," shot back Worf, "and I will not either." He grumbled again and added in a low voice, "I fail to see what is so great about Christmas. Humans may regard it as one of their most precious festivities, but I do not."
"I'm sorry you feel that way," replied the engineer, "but you've got to understand that we're not that high about Klingon celebrations either. We respect your rituals, too, the least you can do is respect ours, even the ancient ones."
"I do respect your cultural rituals," Worf said in a low voice that sent shivers down Geordi's spine. "But I do not impose my traditions onto the rest of you."
"What's that supposed to mean?" As much as Geordi valued his friendship with the Klingon, he felt that this time he had gone too far. "You didn't have to come, you know."
Worf wanted to reply, but Crusher cut in before he could. "Geordi, Worf, it's Christmas. Peace on Earth and all that." She turned to the Klingon. "Look, Worf, I know you have nothing in this tradition you can relate to. No bloodshed, no ritual carnage, no tales of glory. Just the wish of peace and prosperity for everyone."
"There is nothing wrong with wishing for peace, doctor," said Worf. "Klingons value peace, just as humans do, or the Empire would permanently be at war for the sake of being at war. There is no honour in that. A battle must be fought for glory and honour, not for the sake of fighting."
"Then you agree with what Christmas is all about?" asked Geordi. "Peace for everyone?"
"It is admirable to strive for peace," Worf acknowledged, "but not in order to run away from battle. To make peace with your enemies simply because one is afraid of battle dishonours the memory of one's fallen comrades. It is cowardly and dishonourable. To celebrate such a peace is to admit that you are weak and afraid to face your enemies."
"Christmas is not about surrendering oneself to one's enemy," Crusher countered. "It is about the ideal and the ability for each person to co-exist with one another peacefully. There is nothing disgraceful about that."
"Perhaps not," Worf agreed, "but the realisation of such an ideal should be celebrated by honouring the peace. One should celebrate peace by admiring and honouring those who made it possible." He gestured towards the Christmas tree and Riker's band. "Not by decorating trees or singing songs about jolly fat geriatrics who give away presents."
Crusher shrugged. "That's the tradition. It's how it was passed down to us. Santa Claus may be ridiculous, but it's part of the fun of Christmas."
"You have to admit, though," said Deanna, who had joined the conversation, "that the tradition is... rather strange for someone who isn't raised in your tradition. Christmas really is a human thing."
"Many humans aren't exactly familiar with it either, Counsellor," Geordi said. "I never really celebrated Christmas before now. It just seems like fun, that's all."
"To you, yes," Deanna replied. "But not to Worf."
"Christmas is not only about Santa Claus, or presents," said Crusher, "or even about a decorated tree. It's about... Well, peaceful co-existence, I suppose. It's about getting together with your friends and family and having a good time. There's no reason a Klingon can't join the fun."
Worf seemed hesitant. "Are you sure I don't have to sing?"
"Only if you want to," Troi assured him. "And you don't have to be merry, either. Just enjoy yourself and eat and drink as much as you want." She pointed at the main table which had a rich selection of various dishes on it. "We can even replicate you some raw Targ if you prefer."
The Klingon considered it for a moment, then looked at the table closely and considered it some more. "Good," he finally said. "Then I will stay."
"There's one condition, though," Geordi said hastily. "You have to wear a big, red Christmas hat." He shrugged. "Sorry, Worf, but it's tradition." When Worf looked at LaForge menacingly with narrowed eyes, the engineer could no longer hold back a laugh. "Relax, Worf," he laughed. "Just kidding. Too bad, really," he continued. "You would have made a great Santa Claus."
"No," Worf stated. "I would not. I am not a merry man."
"Really, mister Worf? I believe you would look good in red," said Captain Picard as he and Data joined the group. "So, are you enjoying the celebration?"
"The music is... tolerable," said Worf. "Other than that, I am looking forward to..." he paused for a moment, "enjoy myself."
"Good," Picard replied. "Good. Well, let's not stand around here, shall we? We have guests, after all." Following the Captains' example, the officers dispersed and mingled with the passengers of the Kumer.
LaForge and Data both walked in the direction of the bar, where a couple of Kumer survivors were talking. They seemed to ignore the two officers for the moment, though, so Geordi didn't see any harm in talking to his android friend. "How are you holding up?"
Data looked puzzled. "I am afraid I cannot answer that question without first inquiring what exactly it is that I should be holding up."
"That's... not what I meant. Look, Data, I know you've been talking to Counsellor Troi this afternoon. About Lieutenant D'Sora?" Data nodded. "Care to tell me about it?" Geordi continued.
"As I explained to Counsellor Troi," said Data, "I fear that I may not be able to adequately respond to the termination of our relationship. I do not possess the required emotional capabilities to feel grief or guilt, or, regrettably, love."
"Must be frustrating."
"It is not, Geordi," replied Data. "I am not capable of feeling frustration. Nevertheless, I do not think it acceptable to terminate a relationship and not feel anything."
"In your case, Data," said Geordi with a sigh, "it may be unavoidable. But if you feel that strongly about it, why don't you talk to her? She's right over there," he said, waving his hand in her direction.
"What do I say?" the android asked his friend. "I am uncertain how to explain to her that I regret not feeling anything for her."
Geordi grinned. "If I didn't know you better, I'd say you have a case of the jitters."
Again, a puzzled expression washed over Data's artificial face. "But Geordi, I am not in possession of a container with this substance you speak of."
"Never mind," said the engineer with a snicker. "Just go already. You can't get any more lovesick than you are now."
Data opened his mouth to reply to his friend's erroneous statement, but thought the better of it and took the few steps towards Lieutenant Jenna D'Sora. She was initially in a conversation with one of the Kumer passengers, but quickly excused herself when she saw Data approaching her.
"Hi, Data," she said with a smile. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas to you, too, Lieutenant," Data replied.
"How've you been?" asked D'Sora. "You haven't been avoiding me, have you?"
"I have not. After the termination of our relationship, I assisted Lieutenant Commander LaForge in various repairs of the Enterprise. Furthermore, I allocated a substantial portion of my off-duty time to the research on human emotional responses typically associated with the breaking of a relationship." From a distance, Geordi shook his head and sighed. Data's opening lines were terrible.
"I see..." D'Sora studied Data's impassive face carefully. "Let's... let's go for a walk." She took him by the arm and nearly dragged him out of the starboard entrance of Ten Forward. "What..." She scraped her throat. "What conclusions did your research yield?"
"Typical human responses to the termination of a romantic relationship include grief, guilt, sadness and, sometimes, a dislike towards the former lover. These are all emotions of which I am not capable of experiencing. I have, however, not slept in days, which is also a common response to a break-up. But since I do not sleep, I find it difficult to attribute my lack of sleep to our recent break-up."
"Right," said D'Sora, mildly confused. "Data, what is it that you're trying to say?"
"I am merely describing the conclusions of my research," replied the android.
"No, no, I mean: why did you research the human responses to the break-up of a relationship?" she asked him. "What did you learn from it, with respect to... to us?"
Data raised his eyebrows. "I am incapable of experiencing emotions. I thought that, by researching the appropriate emotional responses of others, I might gain insight into these emotions and... emulate them in some way."
"But why?" D'Sora asked as they rounded a corner. "Why did you conduct this research just after our break-up? Why do you want to emulate an emotional response?"
"There are a number of reasons. I have found that my inability to experience emotions hampers my quest to become human myself. If I ever find a way to feel emotions, I will be one step closer to becoming human."
"So you wanted to experience emotions associated with a break-up... just out of scientific curiosity and the wish to become human?"
"No," Data replied. "There is another reason. I hoped to do justice to your feelings by returning your affection and displaying emotions of my own." He shook his head momentarily. "I regret that I have not been able to emulate the required emotions, much less experience them. My lack of emotions does no justice to your feelings and to the brief romantic relationship we had. I must apologise for my inability to return your feelings adequately."
D'Sora came to a halt, just before the port entrance to Ten Forward -- they had been walking in half a circle. "Data, that's..." she stammered. "That's so sweet."
"I..." Data began, but didn't quite know what to say. "I did not anticipate this reply. I must-"
But D'Sora interrupted him. "Sssh, not a word," she whispered kindly as she brought her finger to his lips to silence him. "You are concerned about me, and worried that you can't feel as I do. And I think that's sweet." She smiled at him. "For someone who might never feel attracted to someone, Data, and for someone who, quite possibly, won't ever experience emotions at all, you do know exactly the right words to say." She placed her hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Data."
The android blinked a couple of times and cocked his head to the side a bit. "You are welcome, Jenna."
She grinned and lead him into Ten Forward. After the double doors opened to allow them through, D'Sora stopped in the opening. "Data, wait."
Data halted immediately. "Is there a problem?"
D'Sora smiled mischievously. "Look up."
Diverting his gaze upwards, the android noticed a twig with green leaves and red berries hanging from a red ribbon above the entrance to the lounge. "Interesting," he commented, and looked at D'Sora. "A small shrub of Phoradendron flavescens, commonly known as the Earth plant mistletoe. If I may ask, what is the significance of this particular decoration?"
"It's tradition," she replied and kissed him.
Their lips parted, and Data frowned in thought. "I see. I am curious: in what way does the tradition of kissing under mistletoe relate to the various traditions of Christmas?"
D'Sora closed her eyes and shook her head. "Data, you don't understand. This was my way of saying... thank you. For everything. You helped me through a rough period those two weeks ago and I'll always remember you for that." She took two small steps backwards, which Data rightly interpreted as a precursor to ending this conversation. "Listen, Data, I hope you'll experience emotions someday. But take it from me: emotions can be awfully confusing sometimes." She smiled faintly and eyed the floor. "I, uh, I have to go. See you later." With that, she disappeared into the crowd.
Data raised an eyebrow and walked towards the bar and Worf, all the while watching D'Sora's attempts to merge into the group. "Curious," he stated.
Worf was busy downing some beverage or other, and made a face when he had finished it. "Distasteful," he grunted.
"Lieutenant D'Sora just... kissed me." That got Worf's attention, and the Klingon looked at him questioningly, motioning for the android to continue. "It is a tradition among her people to kiss each other under the mistletoe," explained Data.
A smile crept up Worf's otherwise surly face. "Humans have fine traditions," he said as he sampled another drink and made another face. "Fine traditions, poor beverages."
"Did you not claim to dislike the tradition of Christmas earlier?" Data inquired.
"I did. And I do. But I have come to realise that for humans, the ancient tradition of Christmas is part of their heritage, just as the Day of Honour and the Kot'baval festival are part of mine. I may not like Christmas, but I will respect it. To do otherwise would be to insult the honour of my friends and shipmates." He paused for a moment. "So you will not hear me say that Christmas is a waste of time." Worf took another sip of the hideous drink. "I may think it, but I will not say it."
Data observed that the Klingon continued to drink the very same beverage he seemed to loathe. He supposed that Worf prided himself on his ability to cope with both events and drinks which he didn't enjoy -- namely, the Christmas celebration and this beverage, respectively. It would be best, he reflected, not to apprise Worf of this observation. "In that case," he said, "merry Christmas, mister Worf,"
Worf's eyes narrowed and he put down his glass before turning on his heels to face the android officer. But instead of flinging insults at Data, as one might have expected, the Klingon cracked half a smile and raised the glass again. "Merry Christmas."
While Riker's Jazz band played (and improvised on) many archaic Earth Christmas songs, while Worf and Data struggled with the meaning of Christmas and while Picard and the rest of the crew celebrated Christmas, the Starship Enterprise soared through open space towards Starbase 260, where the survivors of the transport vessel Kumer would disembark. Despite the loss of their ship and some of their friends two days ago, but thanks to Captain Picard and his crew, the surviving Kumer passengers and crew did, ultimately, have a very merry Christmas.
