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FIFTEEN

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Captain, I have an appointment with eternity and I don’t want to be late,” Soran said.

Picard cast a swift glance at his surroundings. A millisecond before, he had been astride a horse, beside James Kirk, looking out at a gently rolling plain. Now he was once more atop the dusty plateau, seated on a rock in the shadow of a great tree, his hand full of pebbles; overhead, the Veridian sun shone down, radiating gentle warmth upon his skin. James Kirk was nowhere to be seen.

Before him, Soran—pale face aglow with maniacal anticipation—turned and began to climb the scaffolding toward the top of the rockface.

There was no time for further appeals, no time for subterfuge—no time to peer anxiously about to see whether Kirk had indeed gone through with his decision to leave the nexus. Picard dropped to the ground, rolled onto his back, and wriggled headfirst beneath the stone arch, praying silently all the while that he would not be doomed to see history repeat itself.

There was little room. He had gotten his head through to the forcefield’s other side and slipped his shoulders beneath the arch when the field flashed blindingly in front of his chin. The jolt was agonizingly intense; as the field crackled, he thrashed involuntarily—knowing that Soran would see, that the disruptor blast would be sure to follow—then stilled himself, panting, and directed his clearing gaze upward, toward the scaffolding.

A blur of black and white, Soran paused in his climbing.

Picard pushed hard with his feet and slid forward through the sand, knowing that it would be too late, preparing himself for the inevitable. Atop the scaffolding, Soran wheeled, then pulled an object from his hip.

A disruptor, Picard knew. He drew a breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and lay still ….

Soran raised his disruptor and squinted at the cloud of dust and smoke rising from the collapsed rock archway where Picard had wriggled beneath the forcefield. The scientist jumped down a level, weapon ready, his mind full of fury; there was no time to deal with distractions! He should have killed the human outright, when he first came, to save himself the annoyance now.

But no, you had to be softhearted. And why? You’ll soon have the blood of two hundred thirty million on your head…. What’s one more?

A breeze stirred, dispersing the haze to reveal a scorched hole gouged in the earth where the captain had lain. But no Picard.

Frustrated, Soran peered around at the shifting wisps of smoke. No sign of the captain ….