All Good Things__ - Michael Jan Friedman [5]
Still, for just a second there, it seemed to him he was in another place altogether. He wasn’t sure where, or even when, but… oh, what the hell. When people aged, their minds were allowed to wander a bit.
There was nothing wrong with that, was there? With all the thinking his mind had done, it had earned a little excursion now and then.
Concentrating on the vine in his hand, he appraised it with the trained eye of someone who had grown up under the tutelage of expert vintners. Then, reaching for a pair of pruning shears, he snipped off a few stray branches. Certainly, he could have hired others to do this work—but it felt good to be useful. And Lord knew, he wasn’t qualified to do much else these days. “Captain Picard to the bridge!” a voice rang out.
Picard could scarcely believe his ears. He looked up from his work and squinted.
To his surprise, there was someone standing there in the vineyard—though the figure was silhouetted in the early-morning sun, so he couldn’t tell who it was right away. Then, as he shaded his eyes, he made out a familiar and welcome visage. “Geordi,” he whispered. “Geordi La Forge.”
His former chief engineer smiled with genuine enthusiasm as he approached. “Sir, I think we have a problem with the warp core, or the phase inducers, or some other damn thing. It’d normally take days to repair—but if you need me to, I can fix it in a few minutes. No—make that a few seconds. And if you want, I can run a few diagnostics while I’m at it as well.”
The older man stood, though not without a bit of difficulty. “Damn,” he said, scratching at his bearded chin. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”
La Forge was wearing civilian clothes—and why shouldn’t he? He had left Starfleet a good many years ago, though not as many as Picard himselfi Also, the man’s VISOR was gone—replaced by artificial eyes— and with his face rounded by age, and punctuated with a gray mustache, he was no longer the bushy-tailed young officer that the captain had known.
But then, time had passed for both of them. So much time, in fact, that it was depressing to think about it.
La Forge held out his hand. Picard grasped it with all the strength he could muster—which wasn’t much, anymore.
“Hello, Captain,” said his visitor. “Or should I make that Ambassador?”
Picard snorted. “It hasn’t been Ambassador for a while either.”
The younger man shrugged. “How about Mr. Picard?”
“How about Jean-Luc?” countered the vintner.
La Forge looked at him askance. His eyes glinted. “I don’t know if I can get used to that, but I’ll give it a shot.”
For a long moment, they stood in the slanting rays of the sun, each taking in the sight of an old friend and comrade. Picard was the first to break the silence.
“Good lord, Geordi. How long has it been?”
La Forge grunted. “Oh… about nine years.”
“No, no… I mean, since you called me Captain last? When was the last time we were all together… on the Enterprise?”
It took La Forge a little longer to answer that question. “Close to twenty-five years,” he decided.
Picard shook his head. “Twenty-five years…” He smiled. “Time’s been good to you, Commander.”
The younger man patted his middle. “It’s been a little too good to me in some places.” He took a look around, his gaze finally fixing itself on the gardening tools that Picard had lugged out herewjust as he did every morning. They were stacked just a few meters away. “Can I give you a hand, sir?”
The older man shrugged. “Oh, I’m just tying some vines. I can handle it on my own.”
La Forge knelt down anyway and examined one of the vines.
“Looks like you’ve got leaf miners,” he announced after a second or two. “You might want to use a spray on them.”
Picard looked at him. “What do you know about leaf miners?” he asked, full of curiosity.