Star Trek_ Generations - J M. Dillard [55]
Picard lowered his gaze. Impossible to deny the truth of Sorans assertions; he felt the same bitterness himself, the same anger at the patent unfairness of death. He struggled to find a counterargumentbut the words he chose seemed to him meaningless, clichés. Were all mortal, Soran. Its one of the truths of our existence.
An ugly truth, Soran said passionately. A hideous truth. He paused; the anger began to ease from his features, to be replaced by dawning exhilaration. What if I told you I found a new truth …
The nexus, Picard said.
Sorans swift smile was an affirmation. Ive spent the last eighty years speaking to other Lakul survivors about their experiences in it, researching it, trying to understand it. Time has no meaning there, he said, with a simple wonder that erased all trace of darkness from his features, his eyes. The predator has no teeth. Think of it, Captain … the curse that has plagued the entire universe since the beginning of lifegone. No more death, no suffering …
He gazed, expectant, at the sky, his face suddenly luminous with sunlight and hope. And then he turned his back on Picard and hurried back to the probe launcher.
Picard watched with a sense of defeat. He could argue no further with Sorans murderous logic; his only course lay in finding a way inside the forcefield. He glanced once more at Soran, whose attention was entirely focused on the launcher control panel, then began to pace along the fields perimeter.
He had not gone far when he spied an unusual formation within a dusty red mound: over eons, wind and water had burrowed through the ancient stone to sculpt an almost perfect archwayan opening, Picard judged, just large enough for a man to squeeze through.
He stared at the daylight beyond; if, by chance, Soran had failed to notice the gap, and hadnt accounted for it when programming the forcefield …
Casually, Picard bent down to retrieve a pebble and tossed it in Sorans direction. The field flashed on, revealing something that filled Picard with sudden hope:
The field extended to the top of the mound, and no farther. The archway was unshielded.
As if sensing danger, Soran glanced up at the crackling sound. Careful, Captain. Thats a fifty-gigawatt forcefield. I wouldnt want to see you get hurt.
Picards lips thinned at the irony in the scientists tone; if all went as Soran planned, the captain would be destroyed by the ensuing shock wave. Thank you, he replied coolly, and waited for Soran to look back down at the controls before arming himself with pebbles.
On the Bird-of-Preys bridge, BEtor sat scowling at the viewscreen, which revealed a roving view of the Enterprises corridors. She glanced up as her sister, who had given up in impatience and left the bridge, returned.
Lursa followed her sisters gaze to the screen. Where is he now?
I dont know, BEtor snapped. He bathed … now he is roaming the ship … He must be the only engineer in Starfleet who does not go to engineering!
Lursa sat beside her with an unhappy groan. As she did, the view on the screen shifted as the engineer rounded a corner … and moved past a small bulkhead sign marked ENGINEERING.
BEtor leaned forward eagerly in her chair. Finally!
They watched as the engineer approached another humana uniformed male, who stopped and initiated a conversation. BEtor frowned, trying to read the humans lips. Her skill in speaking Standard was formidable, and she was able to make out the words diagnostic and generators.
The view shifted again, this time to something that took BEtor to the edge of her seat: A bank of monitors, and beside them, a large graphic of the Enterprise. Then once more, the view began to pan to the left.
Thats it! Lursa swiveled and grasped her sisters wrist. Replay from time index four-two-nine.
BEtors fingers flew swiftly over the controls on her console arm. The image on her small