Chapter 2

Geordi LaForge touched the leads from the probe to each end of the exposed circuit, turned his head to look at the monitor - and frowned.

It should be working, he argued silently with the machine; I've checked every millimeter of the wiring, the capacitor, the stator, the plexor... they each worked independently, he reminded the machine in protest - then sighed as he conceded the issue: the circuit didn't work.

It should, he insisted; I copied it component for component, fiber for fiber, line for line - and those worked - so why doesn't this one function?

Well, maybe it does, he added in wordless frustration; the problem with reverse engineering was that you had to make some assumptions - and one of those assumptions was that the basic tenants of your technology matched those of another. If you put power through one end of a patent circuit, the power would be detectable on the other side of the circuit. Modified, yes; that's what the circuit's components were intended to do - but in one form or another, to one degree or another, there should be power on the other side of the circuit.

Assuming, of course, he conceded, that's what it's supposed to do, But maybe it's not. Maybe it only works when the input power is modified in some way - at a given frequency, or in a given quantity, or at a given time.

Maybe it only works when it's part of a whole system, he mused - except if it only works as a whole, how can I ever figure out which part isn't working?

I can't, he admitted; all I can do is go back to the beginning and try to recreate everything from scratch - again.

How many times would that make it? he wondered. A dozen? Two? - and none of them have worked.

Or at least, not worked for long, he added. There had been a few times when he had turned the system power on - and for a moment, for a glorious, heart-rending moment, there had been the glimmer of success - only to watch as the light faded away - and with it his hopes.

And for a day - or two - he would turn away, resolving not to pour his time, energy - and hope - after a dream that could never be realized.

But dreams were made of stronger stuff, Geordi reminded himself; they persevered, even when he thought he could not - and after a few days of reflection and, he admitted ruefully, self-pity, he had returned to his project, determined, once again, to find a way to succeed.

But trial and error - especially trial and error on several hundred thousand components - was, for all practical purposes pointless - especially, Geordi thought, when you have no baseline for comparison. For all I know, this is exactly what this circuit should be doing under these circumstances; that I assume it's going to do what other circuits do under similar circumstances is an unwarranted supposition.

After all, every component in the circuit checks out individually - and I know the wiring is correct - so maybe the only thing wrong with this circuit is my expectation, he decided.

So why the hell doesn't it work?! he grumbled, setting the circuit back in place, removing the next one in line, and beginning the process once again.

He had just touched the probe to the circuit contact when he heard the faint change in the noise level of the engineering bay behind him - and he smiled to himself. After almost half a life spent in this room, he mused, I can identify almost every sound that the engines and the ship's systems could make in every circumstance - but there were only a few things that could cause the terrified hush that had just filled the room behind him.

Without looking up, he said, "You're up early, Cap... I mean Admiral," he said, then, setting down the probe, turned to Picard. "I still haven't gotten used to that, sir. Admiral Picard," he repeated, a touch of awe filling him - the same touch of awe that had stilled even the usually quiet night crew as the man had walked through the bay.

Picard smiled back. "It shouldn't be that difficult, Geordi; it has been almost two years, after all," he reminded the engineer.

"But, truth be told," he conceded, his voice dropping somewhat, "I'm not used to it myself. Every now and then, someone will call out to 'Admiral Picard' - and it takes me a moment to realize they mean me," he said.

Geordi gave a nod. "I understand - I think. You were a captain for a long time..."

Picard shook his head. "It's not that, Geordi - I think," he added. "I don't remember having any difficulty accepting my promotion to being a captain."

The engineer raised a brow. "If I were a counselor, I would say there was something Freudian in what you just said," he replied quietly.

"Meaning...?" Picard countered.

Geordi gave a slight shrug. "Meaning... not everyone is cut out to be an admiral," he said.

"Indeed?"

"No," Geordi said firmly. "Begging your pardon, but..." He drew a short breath. "You shouldn't have taken the promotion, sir. You were the best captain there was, Captain; you were meant to be out here, exploring, not piloting a desk back on Earth," he admonished the man.

Picard gave the engineer a hard look - then sighed in concession. "You may be right, Geordi," he agreed, "but keeping the center seat wasn't an option. Exploring space is game for young men - and I'm not young anymore. I was given the choice of taking the promotion - or taking retirement. And I wasn't ready to retire," he added - but there was something in his manner that belied his words.

Geordi nodded thoughtfully, understanding too well the dilemma that had faced - but wondering, not for the first time, if the choice he had made had been the right one.

Of course, it's easy for me to question his decision, Geordi added; I wasn't the one facing the choice of a desk - or the end of a career. When my time comes, they're not going to put me behind a desk - they'll put me in front one - or more likely a dozen - teaching at the Academy.

Whether I want it or not, he added, remembering the offer that Starfleet had made to him just a few years before, when Will Riker had been offered the captaincy of the Enterprise. Will had asked him to stay on with the ship - but the powers that be had other plans for him. They had offered him a posting at Starfleet Academy, heading up the engineering department - but Geordi knew he wasn't yet ready to step away from the active role he played on the flagship of the fleet. He had turned down the offer - only to be informed that while the options was his this time, it wouldn't always be so.

Unlike the captain, the choice was his - this time. Next time...

He sighed.

Well, at least I'll still be involved in engineering, he mused, not able to consider what the prospect of a life without his engines - at least in some form - would be like - and wondering all the more what Picard's life, without his ship, without space, had been like.

Not easy, he concluded, looking at the officer - and not happy, either. It had only been two years, but the man seemed to have aged a dozen in that same time; not just physically, Geordi added, but spiritually as well. The vitality and vigor that had marked his very being seemed to have faded away, leaving the man a pale shadow of what he had once been.

But life away from Starfleet would have been doubly difficult, Geordi conceded; at least as an admiral he had some opportunities to visit the stars that had been his home for so long - like now, he thought, smiling to himself.

Picard must have had a thought along the same line, for he looked around the room as if reacquainting himself with the sights - then gave a contented sigh. "But it's good to be back," he added.

"And it's good to have you back," Geordi agreed. "We've missed having you around."

Picard smiled. "Don't let Captain Riker hear you say that," he said lightly. "He'll accuse me of bucking for his job," he added.

"After all the years he wanted yours, it would only be fair, Captain," Geordi countered, laughing, then sobered. "Do you ever miss it, Captain?" he asked. "I mean, do you ever think about running a ship again?"

Picard thought for a moment, contemplating the question - then shook his head. "No. Oh, there was a time, I'll admit, when it was all I could think about - but... I've moved on," he said.

Geordi studied the man, wondering if he thought the engineer was being fooled by his words - or if Picard was just fooling himself.

Or neither, Geordi decided a moment later, seeing the nostalgia in the former captain's eye - and then the sad smile on his face. "No, you're quite right, Geordi; I do miss it - but," he added, the light growing in his expression, a hint of his former self returning, "there are some advantages to being an admiral," he informed the man. "After all, how often did I take a month of leave when I was here?" he asked.

Geordi sighed, relieved that Picard's wistfulness had faded - and nodded his head, the man's point taken. "Never - but you could have," he pointed out. "You just never did."

"I could have - but I always found something more important - or more interesting - to fill my time," he countered.

"And now?"

Picard smiled ruefully, then looked away, staring out at the room around him - but not truly seeing it, Geordi knew.

"Now?" Picard mused softly. "Now... Let's just say that there's very little I do that someone else can't do - and equally well. Being an admiral may be prestigious in many senses - the rank does have its privileges - but it's also humbling; everyone who reaches that rank has earned it..."

"I'd beg to differ on that point," Geordi countered. "There is no way that Thaddeus Czymszczyk has earned that position. Bought it - maybe; but earned it? No," he said adamantly.

Picard continued, ignoring the contentious issue they had discussed so many times before, "... and you become but one of many, with little to distinguish you from the others - and doubly so when you are the junior-most of the lot." His voice trailed off as he stared at something that the man beside him couldn't see.

And never likely to go beyond that position, he admitted. With the war over, there was little need to expand the ranks of the admiralty beyond its present size. Even if one of the higher ranked admirals chose to leave, it was unlikely that he would be offered the opportunity to take his place; he had the bucked the authority of the admiralty too many times for them to want him as anything more than a token member - and as the oldest of the group, it was unlikely that he would outlive the others and move up the ranks through sheer attrition.

I'm getting older, he reminded himself, old enough to know that when the time came for someone to replace an admiral, the odds were that it would be his shoes that someone was trying to fill - and it wouldn't be that difficult, he knew.

Geordi fell silent, allowing the man his thoughts, then softly offered, "I'm sorry."

The voice, quiet as it was, startled the man, bring him back to the present; he turned to the engineer as if not having realized the man was there - then smiled. "Don't be, Geordi. It's given me some time to reevaluate my life - at least what's left of it - and," he added with a forced smile, "to enjoy it. You were right; I could have taken an extended leave when I captained the Enterprise, Geordi - but I put other things ahead of my personal goals; now, I can indulge."

The engineer laughed. "Four weeks in a rain forest, digging the foundation of a primitive Romulan settlement out of ten thousand years of accumulated plant growth and soil shift? Hmm, yes, that's an indulgence, all right, Captain," he joked.

Picard laughed. "To each his own, Geordi; how many times did you take leave in order to attend a technical conference? But in any case, I'll only be with the Kvesterians for a few days."

"From what I hear, a few days is about all anyone can take!" Geordi said.

Picard gave a half shrug. "I'll admit they can be a bit... overwhelming," he agreed. "But in any case, after a few days to establish their base camp, I'll be off to study the gravitic anomalies."

"That's right," Geordi replied. "Leaving the dig in the rainforest to pursue a possible dig in one of the hottest deserts on the planet; yeah, that would be my first choice for how to spend my leisure time, too, Captain," he agreed.

Picard smiled. "To each his own, to each his own," he repeated, looking at the room around them, thinking Geordi's leisure time was spent on indulgences - or perhaps obsessions - of his own. He nodded at the open circuit on the test panel. "So how is it going?" he asked. "Anything new since yesterday?" he asked, more from habit than from real hope.

"So far, everything tests out fine - I think," Geordi admitted. "Of course, I'm not entirely sure what results I should be getting. Based on what the technology I know, the circuits are all failures - but when I compare them to ones we have, they meet the same standards. Of course, I don't know if that means they work - or if we're comparing it to a circuit that's non-functional."

Picard raised a brow. "Non-functional?" he repeated. "But..."

"Sir," Geordi said softly, "even after all these years, we don't know exactly how Dr. Soongh was able to construct his androids. What few notes we've found over the years have been sketchy at best; he didn't seem interested in leaving his work for posterity to improve upon," he said. "I appreciate you and B-4 allowing me to study his circuits and positronic net - but for all I know, B-4 is as he is because his circuits don't work correctly - or at all. Comparing these circuits to his may not be a valid basis of comparison. The problem is that Dr. Soongh never detailed his frame of reference; he didn't see the need because he understood what his basic assumptions were and saw no need to document them for future reference."

"Quite probably." Picard agreed, "From what I've read of the man, he had quite an ego; he didn't appear to accept the need for such documentation, because he couldn't accept that anyone would be capable of grasping his fundamental precepts - and, quite possibly, because he couldn't accept the possibility that he might not live long enough to see the fulfillment of his work," Picard mused. "Accepting one's mortality isn't an easy thing," he added, more to himself than to the other man.

Geordi nodded, suspecting that, in Dr. Soongh's case, the issue was as much vanity as well as his inability to accept the transience of his physical existence; from what little he knew of the man, Dr. Soongh would never have accept the possibility that he could have been bettered by anyone.

And maybe he was right, Geordi added wordlessly; after all, even Data had not been able to successfully duplicate his creator's work.

And, for that matter, Geordi thought, even Noonian Soongh had only been fully successful once - and the result of that work, Lore, the android creation that came closest to being fully human, had also embodied the worst of humanity's attributes - and had been responsible for the death of his creator.

Had Dr. Soongh lived longer, however...

Had he lived longer, Geordi concluded, we might not be here today, struggling to figure what his methodology was.

And all this work would be unnecessary.

"No," Geordi sighed, "accepting mortality - anyone's mortality - is not an easy thing at all."

Which is why I come down here every night and work on this - and why you come down every night to watch, he silently reminded Picard.

Because some things just weren't meant to end.

He pulled the leads from the circuit, snapped the circuit out of the holder, then turned, slid it back into place, and closed the cover.

"Let's give it a try," he announced.

Startled, Picard looked at him. "I thought you said you couldn't find the fault in the circuits," he said.

"I can't - but for all I know, Captain, there is no fault," he said. "But I can only do what I know how to do - and I'll keep on doing it until I get it right. So every night, I take apart one part of the circuit, test it out, put it back in - and turn it on. I have to do something - even if I'm not sure what it is," he added, a hint of desperation in his voice.

And then I watch as it doesn't work once again, and I go have a drink and mourn the loss of the best friend I ever had, he added silently - and that's what I'll keep on doing until I either find the answer - or I face my own mortality, he admitted.

Picard clapped a hand on shoulder, understanding all too well the determination - and the grief - that filled the man.

"Go ahead, Geordi" he said softly. "Give it one more try."

Geordi nodded, then turned his attention to the diagnostic panel, running a test currently through the system, looking for any obvious shorts. When the panel finally turned green, he nodded, touched the current release control - and waited.

There was a jolt, a convulsive spasm - but it meant nothing, Geordi knew; it always happened, a reflexive response to the power being reinitiated - and still it sent a thrill through him, a hope - a dream - that for once, it had worked.

But the convulsion ended a moment later, as it always did - and with it, the hope.

They watched for a long moment, waiting, hoping - then Geordi turned away, reaching for the power switch.

But before he could touch the toggle control, Picard reached out, stopping him before he could terminate the power. "Geordi," he said softly.

Following his gaze, Geordi turned - and stared.

He opened his eyes, staring out, confused - and yet not confused. He knew this place, knew where it was, where he was, who he was - and yet, something was... wrong.

No, not wrong; different.

As though his memories had been altered, amended... changed in some slight, imperceptible way.

It took a moment of elapsed time - but tens of thousands of moments for him - to understand.

The conflict was not from within him - but from without. The room was different from what he remembered, the colors, the smells the sounds - all different. And the people standing before him...

They were different as well.

He stared at his friend, lines deeply etched across his brow and at the corners of his eyes, then at the white haired man standing before him, and found himself bewildered by the sudden aging he saw in both of them.

And doubly bewildered by the tear he saw streaming down the elder man's face.

He reached out to comfort his friend - only to find his movement checked. Looking down, he found his arm secured in place by a heavy restraint. Now thoroughly confused, he looked up at the white-haired man.

"Captain?" he started - then stopped, studied the pips at the man's collar, and tried again. "Admiral?" he said, then looked down at the restraints. "I am confused, sir. What had happened? Is something wrong?"

Picard stared into the golden eyes facing him - and smiled. "No," he said softly. "Nothing's wrong."

He reached forward, tapping the switch that controlled the restraints, then stepped closer.

"No, nothing's wrong; not anymore," he repeated - then extended his hand in greeting.

"Welcome back... Data."