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Only one thing mattered: his return to Leandra. Not quite a century ago, he had used the Lakul to return to her for a radiant, wondrous moment, only to be snatched away again by the Enterprise-B. That other world where she waited seemed real; the rest was all illusion, an agonizing, decades-long detour too cruel to be accepted as reality.

Once more, he was on another damnable starship called the Enterprise; but this one would not steal him from Leandra. This Enterprise would return him to her … if he had to kill every person aboard it. It was, after all, not real.

Yet, real or not, in this universe, Soran knew he would have to use every bit of cunning here to return to the place he thought of as home. And the first step required manipulation of a certain starship captain.

He sat for a few moments more until he saw him: a uniformed man, lean and bald, with a lined, strongly sculpted face. Soran recognized him at once; the mans confident bearing marked him as captain of this vessel. What was the name again? Something exotically Terran.

Picard. Jean-Luc Picard.

Picard made his way through the laughing crowd with single-minded intensity, and a closed expression that gave Soran pause, for it reminded him much of his own. What was it the captain was feeling? Sorans eyelids fluttered as he relaxed, allowed himself to sense his prey.

Yes. Yes … Offense. We two have much in common, Soran said silently to the approaching human. You, like I, are offended by what you see here: people smiling, talking, laughing, enjoying themselves, oblivious to our suffering. Oblivious to pain, to the horror that this universe truly is. But they will come to know; oh yes, they will all come to know deaththeir own, and those of the ones they love. No one escapes here.

But I will. By the gods, I will, and never return … Picard arrived at the table at last, and, intent, unflinching, unsmiling, gazed down at the El Aurian. Dr. Soran …?

Soran looked up, his eyes, his gaze, his demeanor a stern mirror-image of the Starfleet officers. Yes, yes, Captain … Thank you for coming. He extended his hand. Picard took it; firm grip, strong determination. Not an easy man to manipulateor to read, for that matter. But there was fresh pain here, and if Soran was patient, there would soon be details that would help persuade the captain …

Picard sat in the chair across from Soran, and waved away the waiter who had hurried up to take his order. Nothing for me. All brusqueness, he turned to Soran. I understand theres something urgent you need to discuss with me.

Yes. Soran fixed his gaze on the captains dark eyes. I need to return to the observatory immediately. I must continue a critical experiment I was running on the Amargosa star.

A flicker of irritation crossed Picards features. Soran knew exactly how it must have sounded: the eccentric scientist consumed by his work, interrupting the captain at an inopportune moment. Doctor, Picard said, with a hint of impatience, were still conducting an investigation into the attack. Once weve completed our work, well be happy to allow you and your fellow scientists back aboard the observatory. Until then

Soran let some honest desperation slip into his tone. The timing is very important on my experiment. If it is not completed within the next twelve hours, years of research will be lost. And if he did not manage to convince the captain soon, it seemed their conversation would come to a premature conclusion, before Soran could find the key, the precise words needed. Oh yes, there was definitely something here. Horrible pain. Agony. Grief …

But Picard was already moving to rise; with a curt, dismissive tone, he said, Were doing the best we can. Now, if youll excuse me …

And there it was: the flames, two people screaming, dying in such abject misery that Soran drew in his breath, shuddered at the memory of his own long-ago pain. So … we have more in common than I thought, you and I … And with desperation tempered by genuine empathy, he reached out and gently, firmly,