Chapter 36
Warm sunshine dappled through the trees, casting an ever-moving, leafy shadow across the stone table. A cool breeze whisked through the courtyard of the newly-built Chateau Picard, sending sideways ripples across the wine in my raised glass.
"It has good color," Picard said from across the table.
"That's high praise coming from the vintner," I said, sniffing lightly at the wine. Picard sipped at his glass.
"Well, it's certainly not egotism; the flavor makes up for the color," he said with an off-put expression.
"It just needs a little age to season it," I said, taking a drink from my glass. "Still, it comes from good grapes, and it's a good wine." He looked at me, and I could see that he got the deeper meaning.
"You know, Mike, I think I'm going to miss cleaning up after your messes," he said with a smile.
"Captain…Jean-Luc, I want you to know that it's been an honor and a pleasure serving with you."
"At the risk of sounding cliché, Mike, the pleasure has been all mine. And there's something else I've been thinking about lately."
"What's that?" I asked.
"I owe you an apology, Mike. It occurred to me that the intrusion of your time upon ours was not nearly as unethical as the intrusion ofour time upon yours. At least you came to this world invited," he said.
"Jean-Luc, the visionaries in your time gave the people in mine something far greater in return than just a chance to join in a fight against the Borg. They gave us hope. For forty years, their work inspired a lot of people to do a lot of wonderful things. It gave generations of men and women a chance to expand their horizons. Ultimately, it was a lot more than just a television show on both ends of the multiverse."
"That may be, Mike, but the way that it happened was still not ethical. The right thing at the wrong time or for the wrong reason is still the wrong thing. And despite the fact that I was not personally responsible for the Federation's actions, I am a representative for everything that they do, and therefore I owe you an apology. At the very best, I was too harsh on you and your companions."
"Apology accepted, Jean-Luc. I suppose that I could have been a little less impetuous at times. It might have made things easier, don't you think?" I asked. Picard just smiled.
"I doubt that you would have made good captain material otherwise, Mr. Allen. Tell me, what are your plans now?"
I sipped at my wine. Picard was right; it was not very good.
"I'm being put back into active duty."
"Demoted?" Picard asked, a tinge of pity in his voice.
"Surprisingly, no. The Ascension has been repaired, and is scheduled to leave Spacedock in just a few days. Starfleet has elected to grant me a continuation of my captaincy…with a few conditions. Most of my crew, including the newly appointed Commander Weston, will be from this time," I said. Picard chuckled.
"They made Weston your first officer?"
"Starfleet feels that she will…keep me in line," I said. Picard's laughter echoed in the surrounding walls of the chateau. Slowly, his mirth warmed into a sort of sage-like quality.
"Consider yourself lucky, Mike. You're about to embark on a voyage that will take you much further than just the stars. That crew is your family now, and the adventures you have together are just the glue that binds you. What goes on inside that ship will mean so much more to you than anything that goes on outside of it."
Suddenly, my comm badge chirped.
"Ground Control to Captain Allen," a voice said. I tapped the badge.
"Allen here."
"Captain, your presence is requested at Starfleet Headquarters immediately. Your final debriefing is to commence at oh-nine-hundred hours, sir."
"Understood. One to beam up. Please standby."
"Standing by, sir."
I stood, reaching into my pocket.
"Before I go, Captain, I wanted to give you something that I ran across a few days ago," I said, handing Picard a small padd.
"What's this?" he said, examining the padd.
"It's a music album," I said. "In your first year of duty aboard theEnterprise D, your crew picked up someone from Earth's twentieth century, a man named Sonny Clemmons. Clemmons was a musician, and went on to gain a small following on the Earth of today. Not to mention Risa, Andor, and surprisingly enough, Vulcan."
"Yes," Picard said. "I remember him. He wanted Data to join him when he left the Enterprise to restart his musical career." He activated the padd, and a small holographic projection – the album's cover – arose from the screen. It was a picture of Data, with the album title That Gold-Skinned Man above it. In crystalline clarity, the sound of a guitar playing the opening notes to Irving Berlin's Blue Skiesfilled the courtyard. Picard's eyes misted over. A single tear-drop fell toward the padd, coalescing as it passed through the light of the hologram.
"Apparently," I said softly, "he misses Data too, Captain. Consider it a gift, from one time traveler to another." Picard looked up.
"Thank you, Mike."
"You're welcome, Captain. Farewell, until our next encounter." I tapped my communicator. "Energize."
As the world around me shimmered into a momentary existence of pure energy, the last thing I saw was Picard's face as the corners of his mouth rose in a rueful smile.