It's nearly impossible for Chekov to ignore the statues. He looks them over with absolute fascination, taking in every detail. Farthest left is him at about seven, with wild curly hair and a bright smile. The center is Chekov now, wearing his Starfleet uniform and wearing a more restrained version of the child statue's smile. But it's the one on the far right that captivates him. It's him in his twilight years, no longer wearing a uniform but still standing up straight. His expression is distant, but not sad.

Chekov looks up at this statue of himself, taking it all in. And then he makes the mistake of touching the statue.

Suddenly, he's thrown back to Engineering-- klaxons blaring and steam pouring out of the pipes. Sickly sounds of dying equipment fill the air, mingling with screams and shouts and explosions. Chekov's shirt has changed from gold to red, and he feels like he's going to be sick. Not again. Not again.