Geordi LaForge stood at the podium and looked out at the crowd. It seemed like half of Starfleet had shown up for the service, filling the grounds of Starfleet Academy with a sea of white dress uniforms.

In the second row was a swath of Admirals. The tall, burly form of Admiral Leonard James Akaar made everyone around him seem like a midget. To his left, Geordi could see Admiral Janeway talking with Admiral Nechayev. Even the now-retired William Ross was in among the brass, his somber civilian suit adding some contrast.

Across the aisle from them were Geordi's friends. Captain Picard and Worf sat at opposite ends. In between, Will and Deanna had shuttled in from the Titan. Behind them was Christine Vale and several Enterprise engineers. Chief O'Brien was talking with Christine, probably about his work rebuilding Cardassia. Another row back, Lieutenant Nog from Deep Space Nine was in a very animated conversation with Robin Lefler and Burgoyne 172 of the Excalibur. Other officers and enlisted personnel filled the seats and, when the seats ran out, stood along the edges.

The front row, however, contained some of the greatest men and women to ever wear the Starfleet uniform. Admiral Nyota Uhura sat silent, her ebony face a mask of grief. Next to her, Ambassador Spock and Captain Saavik had bowed their heads in silent tribute. Even Admiral Leonard McCoy, who looked incredibly frail at 153, had shown up. His lanky body was held up by an exoframe and a hoverchair, but his cobalt eyes shone with a keen brilliance.

The honor guard, normally made up of a contingent of six security guards, was today the contingent from the U.S.S. DaVinci. Captain David Gold stood at the head of the procession, along with Sonya Gomez, Domenica Corsi, Fabian Stevens, Carol Abramowitz and Vance Hawkins. Geordi had met them on a mission a few years ago, but wished that the reunion was under better circumstances. The rest of the DaVinci crew were clustered in behind Nog and Lefler.

Several people were missing that should have been here, mostly because death had claimed them first. James T. Kirk, Pavel Chekov, Hikaru Sulu (though his daughter Demora was proudly sitting in his place next to Admiral Uhura), Keiran Duffy and the others killed trying to recover the U.S.S. Orion. But Geordi felt the absence of Data the most. Just being here, preparing to give a eulogy, reminded him of a similar service performed just a few weeks ago for his friend.

The murmurs in the crowd quieted. Gold and the others came to attention. Nearby, a seven-man phaser rifle team stood ready. Next to them was a civilian, dressed in full kilt and tartan fingering a set of bagpipes. After all, the service was for a Scotsman. He deserved a refrain of "Amazing Grace".

Geordi cleared his throat and prepared to memorialize the late Captain Montgomery Scott…

Geordi's eyes snapped open and he sat up. It took a moment for his ocular implants to adjust to the dim lighting in his quarters. He reached over and pressed the intercom, "LaForge to bridge."

"Joyner here. What is it, sir?"

"Patch me through to Captain Montgomery Scott. Private channel."

"Aye, sir."

A moment later, a thick voice responded. "Ach, lad. Do ye have any idea what time it is?"

Geordi began to respond, but stopped. The dream was starting to fade away. What do I say? That I just dreamed that you were dead, and that I was about to give your eulogy?

"Geordi? Are ye still there?"

"Yeah, Scotty. I'm here. It's nothing. Sorry to have disturbed you."

"It's alright, lad. I've had my share of nightmares after close calls. And that dustup with the Romulans certainly qualifies."

"Yeah, I know. Good night, Scotty."

"Good night, lad."

LaForge closed the channel and laid back on his bed. Just a bad dream...