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temporary, fleeting phenomenon, did that not give each moment more value, more poignancy?

Picard stood several moments in the cooling air, reflecting on the debt he and millions of others owed James Kirk. And then he lifted his gaze overhead at the sound of a droning engine, and spied something pale and blinking streaking through the deepening sky.

The Enterprise shuttlecraft. It settled gracefully, softly in a clearing at the far end of the mountaintop, without stirring up dust. Picard strode quickly past trees to meet it, and arrived just as the hatch slid open to reveal Worf and La Forge.

Wo~f jumped out first, narrowing his eyes at the growing dusk to study his commanding officer. “Captain, are you all right?” “Yes,” Picard said wearily.

“What about Dr. Soran?” La Forge asked, lingering in the doorway.

Picard hesitated, thinking of the two graves behind him, hidden by trees and brush. No doubt in the future he would report the precise details of what had occurred to him here on the plateau, and in the nexus, with James Kirk and Soran… but at the moment, he wanted only to return to the ship, and rest. “You needn’t worry about the doctor anymore.”

He moved to enter the shuttle… and paused, squinting in the failing light at the small bandage on Geordi La Forge’s brow, at the tear in Worf’s uniform, at the scorched dents in the side of the shuttlecraft. “Was there a problem with the Klingons?”

La Forge shared an ominously reluctant look with Worf; for an instant, neither officer replied. And then

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IAK 1 IKl~,lk ,JIZlNI,IKAI IUlN;~

Geordi said, with a gusting sigh, “You could say that …. “

“Captain’s log, Stardate 48650.1.

“The Starship Farragut has arrived in orbit and has begun to beam up the Enterprise survivors for transport back to Earth.

“Our casualties were light… but unfortunately, the Enterprise herself cannot be salvaged.”

Picard paused in his recording to gaze out the open doorway at the stream of personnel moving past—some carrying what personal effects they had rescued from their quarters, some hauling undamaged equipment, still others evacuating the wounded on stretchers. Lit by emergency beacons, the corridor led to an open hatch; beyond lay sunlit sky and the lush greenery of the Veridian jungle.

“Computer,” Picard said, swiveling in his chair to stare out the hatch at the distant mountains, “end log. I’d like a cup of tea. Earl Grey. Hot.” He rested his elbows against the gleaming surface of the conference table. The ready room had been reduced to virtual rubble; he had had no time thus far to sift through the wreckage, but had instead been busy here, at one of the few places on the ship where communications and the computer functioned.

“That selection is not currently available,” the computer droned. “Choice of teas is limited—banchu, blackberry, or Thirellian mint.”

Picard sighed. “Never mind.”

A sudden shadow fell across the table. He glanced up to see Guinan, smiling in the doorway.

“I’m glad to see you again.” She seemed unharmed,

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unruffled, entirely untouched by the chaos surrounding her.

“I’m glad to see you, too.” He returned the smile. “I had a question to ask …. “

“I know.” Her expression grew teasingly enigmatic. “And I wanted to apologize for underestimating you, Jean-Luc. For being afraid that you wouldn’t come back.”

“I had good reason. Veridian Four. This crew… and you, Guinan.” He hesitated. “Why didn’t you tell me about all this?” He spread his hands, gesturing at the damaged room, at the scene beyond the open door.

She did not answer immediately, but paused to listen to the sharp, silver song of a bird outside. She turned her face toward it, and said, “Some things are meant to be. Like your saving the Veridian star. And this…” She glanced around her. “This was meant to be, too.”

“But crew members died,” Picard said heavily. “We lost seventeen.”

“Yes…” Guinan gave a single, solemn nod, her dark eyes ashine with empathy. “And that’s as it should be. Death isn’t always defeat, Jean-Luc. It’s part of birth, the way of the universe.” She paused. “I’ve been places where they weep at births and celebrate deaths. I think it’s not such a bad idea; keeps things in perspective.”

“So I was meant to save those on Veridian Four, and most of the crew,” Picard said. “But not those seventeen… ?” He shook his head faintly. “If you had told me about them—”

She interrupted. “—you would have gone back earlier in time to save them anyway. I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you.” She gave a soft, wistful sigh. “It’s not easy knowing things, sometimes.” She raised her face and

gazed at her surroundings. “I’m going to miss this ship …. “

Picard nodded. His deep relief at saving the popula-tion of Veridian IV and his crew had been overshadowed by the loss of the seventeen, and the Enterprise herself. He mourned her—not with the intensity he did Robert and Ren6, but there was grief nonetheless.

Yet he did not feel the rage, the fury upon hearing of that loss as he had when learning of his brother’s and nephew’s deaths. His experience with the nexus and Kirk had changed his perspective; had helped him to value what was temporal, fleeting—precisely because of its impermanence.

“I want to thank you,” he told Guinan, “for helping me in the nexus. For introducing me to Kirk.” His tone softened; and he told her what he had revealed to no one else. “He returned here, to this planet, with me; he was killed helping me stop Soran.”

“I know,” Guinan said, very quietly; this time, there was no amusement in her gaze. “That was meant to be, too. Sometimes, the universe can be very fair. He died the way he wanted to: making a difference.”

Picard raised his head sharply at that, remembering Kirk’s final question; then his lips curved upward, very faintly. “I hope, when my time comes, that the universe is as kind to me.”

She reached across the table, and set her warm hand upon his. “I suspect it will be, Jean-Luc,” she said, and smiled. “I suspect it will …. “