Maker - Michael Jan Friedman [72]
The captain scrambled after him, hoping Nikolas had landed on a ledge where he could still be reached. But when Picard looked down into the roiling lava, there was no sign of either Nikolas or Brakmaktin. It seemed that both of them had been destroyed.
Gone, the captain thought, overcome with a dark, hollow sense of resignation. Nikolas is gone.
He turned back to Kastiigan to make sure that his science officer, at least, was all right. But to his dismay, Kastiigan was nowhere to be seen either.
Picard wrestled with the observation, trying desperately to come to grips with it. Where had Kastiigan gone? He wiped the sweat from his brow, wishing he could think more clearly. But the heat was too debilitating, too oppressive….
Then, all of a sudden, it vanished—and the cavern along with it—and the captain was standing on a transporter platform instead of a rough stone floor.
In the same moment, he realized what had happened to Kastiigan, because he was standing at Picard’s side. With Brakmaktin no longer able to prevent their beaming out, both of them had been reeled back to the Stargazer.
And they weren’t alone. There was a third individual alongside them on the transporter platform, lying on his back with his face twisted in pain.
“Nikolas!” the captain blurted.
“Stand aside,” said Greyhorse, nudging Picard out of the way. “We’ve got to get him to sickbay.”
The next thing the captain knew, a medical team was descending on Nikolas, maneuvering him onto an anti-grav stretcher. In a matter of seconds, he was being rushed out of the transporter room.
Picard felt a hand on his arm. He turned and saw Kastiigan grinning at him, happier than the captain had ever seen him.
“Lieutenant,” said Picard, grinning back. “You are alive.”
“Nonetheless,” said the science officer, “I am grateful. I will never forget what you did for me.”
“Nor will I forget what you did for us,” said Picard. “You displayed great courage down there.”
Kastiigan waved away the notion. “It’s kind of you to say so, sir. However, I am a Kandilkari. We do not prize our lives above those of our colleagues.”
That might well be the understatement of the millennium. The captain was about to say so when the doors to the transporter room opened again, admitting Serenity Santana.
She stood there staring at him for a second, looking as if she were angry with him about something. Then, without warning, she pelted across the room and threw herself into his arms.
“I thought—” she began, her voice a little huskier than usual. Then she took a ragged breath and added, “Never mind what I thought. I’m just glad to see your face.”
Picard smiled. “Not as glad as I am to see yours.”
After all, they both knew how close he had come to never seeing anything again.
Chapter Seventeen
AS SOON AS PARIS HEARD about the Magnians, he queried the ship’s computer regarding Jiterica’s whereabouts. It told him that she was in her quarters.
And that’s where he found her, sitting on her bed, the boots of her containment suit planted on the floor. If he had harbored any doubts as to whether she knew, he harbored them no longer.
Paris could see it in her face—a kind of awkward, open-mouthed grief. But then, it was an emotion she hadn’t had occasion to express in the past.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She didn’t answer him. She just stared at the flexible gloves of her suit.
He had hoped that Jiterica wouldn’t take Stave’s death so hard. After all, she hadn’t known him for very long. But clearly, she was struggling with it.
Paris had seen her look lonely at times, and depressed, but never like this. Never heartbroken because she had lost someone for whom she felt…affection.
He didn’t use the word “love.” She couldn’t have loved him. Not the way she loves me.
Sitting down beside Jiterica, Paris asked, “Is there anything I can do?”
She remained silent. And it was a cold silence, a silence she didn’t mean to share with him.
What did I say? he wondered.
Finally, Jiterica spoke. “You didn’t like him.”
It was true. He hadn’t liked the way