All Good Things__ - Michael Jan Friedman [12]
And, feeling a little weak in the knees, he allowed his former comrade to guide him as they walked back toward the house.
Cambridge University hadn’t changed much over the millennium or so since it was founded. At least, that was Geordi’s understanding. Personally, he had been through the place only once before, on a family outing— and that was when he was very small.
Data’s residence at the university was an old English manor house, built around the end of the sixteenth century. It had the smell of old wood about it. As Geordi approached the front door, with the captain at his side, he noticed the large brass knocker. It had been molded in the shape of a long-maned lion’s head.
Geordi smiled. Here, as on the Picard family proper-ty, the primitive had been preserved and venerated. No doubt it was making the captain feel right at home.
He had been alarmed by Picard’s behavior back in the vineyards. However, the captain hadn’t seemed nearly so distracted on the way here. In fact, his excitement had seemed to focus his thoughts—to make him more lucid.
Why, there had been times on the trip from France to England when Geordi had completely forgotten that the man had Irumodic syndrome. Well, almost completely. There had been the incident with the poodle.
Reaching for the knocker, Geordi banged it a couple of times on the heavy wooden door. After a moment, the door opened. A dour-looking, red-faced woman somewhere in her fifties peered out at them. She looked broad enough to put the average Tellarite to shame.
“State your business,” said the woman, with a heavy English accent. Her small, deep-set eyes announced that the two men were anything but welcome here, and dared them to say otherwise.
Still, they hadn’t come all this way to be turned back now. “We’re here to see Mr. Data,” the former chief engineer explained. “My name is Geordi La Forge and this is Jean-Luc Picard. We’re old friends of his.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed almost to slits. “t’m sure you are, sir. Everyone’s friends with Mr. Data, it appears. But the professor’s busy right now and can’t be disturbed, y’see.” “But…”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
As she began to close the door, Picard put his foot in the way. The woman glared at him.
“It’s very important we see him immediately,” he elaborated, glaring back. “We’ve come all the way from France.”
The woman’s expression indicated that she was not impressed. “Have you got wax in your ears?” she asked. “I told you he’s busy, sir. If you wish to make an. appointment, you’ll have to go through the university— and let them decide how important it is. Now, don’t make me call the constable on you, because I won’t hesitate toa”
“Jessel? Who’s at the door?”
Geordi would have known that voice anywhere— although there was a range of expressiveness in it that he hadn’t heard before. The woman looked irritated. Obviously, she had no choice now but to announce their presence there.
“Just some jkiends of yours, sir,” she called back into the house. “I told them to come back another time, when you’re not so busy.”
“Now, Jessel, I told you about frightening people away…
As the sentence hung unfinished in the air, an inner door swung openmrevealing none other than their old colleague, Data. Being an android, he hadn’t aged over the years. However, there was a prominent streak of gray on one side of his head—not a natural streak, but one that looked as ira paintbrush had been taken to his head.
Data was wearing a cranberry-colored, synthetic-silk smoking jacketathe perfect complement to his surroundings. As he peered out at Geordi and the captain, his eyes seemed to go blank for a moment. Then, slowly, a smile broke out on his face.
“Geordi!” he exclaimed. “Captain!” He held out a hand to them. Being a bit closer, Geordi was the first to take it. “It’s good to see you, Data.” Picard shook hands with him, too. “It’s been a long time,” he noted.
The android nodded. “Too long, sir.” Turning to his housekeeper, he said, “Jessel, these are my old ship-mates. The ones I have told you about.”
The woman harrumphed.