Star Trek_ Generations - J M. Dillard [67]
Merry Christmas, Papa.
I love you, Father.
Merry Christmas …
Joy enveloped him, saturated him, so completely that it seemed tangible, something he could reach out and grasp hold of …
It was like being inside joy. As if joy were a real thing that I could wrap around myself …
Guinans image flashed in his mind. They had been talking long ago, in some other universe, about someone, about … Soran.
He pushed the thought away immediately, forced himself to return to the present, to the love and happiness that surrounded him.
Mimi scrambled from his lap and hurried with the others back toward the sorted piles of presents. Smiling at the scene, Elise stepped beside the arm of his chair.
Ill go get dinner ready. Theyll be starving in a minute. She turned, then swiveled her head to speak over her shoulder. Besides, Robert and the others are due any second.
Picard glanced up sharply. Robert …?
She gave him a mildly curious look. Of course. It wouldnt be Christmas without one of your brothers famous buche de Noels.
Sudden tears stung his eyes; he blinked them back, swallowed hard, found his voice. His heartbeat quickened with abrupt anticipation. And René. Will he and … He paused, marveling at the memories that came from some mysterious place outside his own recollection. … Katya be coming?
Yes, Katya. That was her name; a tall, red-haired young woman with striking Asian features. He had attended their wedding two years before; Mimi had been flower girl.
Of course. Marie says they have a surprise theyll be sharing with us.
Mimi glanced up from the mound of shredded Christmas wrapping at her feet. A surprise? More presents?
Elise directed a grin at her daughter. Oh, theyll bring presents, young lady, dont you worry. But the surprise … Im afraid youll have another eight months or so before you get to play with that one. She shot Picard a knowing smile and wink before leaving.
He settled back into his chair and watched the children playing with their new toys. The pleasure was intoxicating; he wanted nothing more than to sit and revel in this scene for the rest of eternity. Everything his gaze rested on brought delight; there was Mimi enjoying the interactive handheld encyclopedia he had chosen for her, and wrapped with care. There, too, beneath the tree was the tiny gold-foil box Elise had not yet discovered, the one he would present to her tonight after the children were asleep, the one that contained his grandmothers heirloom diamond pendant.
And the sparkling tree; each ornament hanging there had a history of its own. There were many priceless antique decorations from his parents tree; Robert had finally been coaxed into parting with a few, he could see. He smiled at the reminders of his boyhood. There was the old-fashioned silvered-glass Papa Noel, with the same small chunk that had been missing from his nose ever since nine-year-old Robert had, in his excitement to get to his presents, inadvertently toppled the tree. And there were Mamans white doves, made from real feathers, with holly sprigs in their beaks. And there …
He blinked and leaned forward to better see an ornament near the top of the tree, one he did not recognize. It was a hollow glass ball, lit internally by what appeared to be a tiny star in its center. As he watched, the tiny star flickered, dimmed, then darkened altogether, radiating a wave of shimmering light outward.
Picard stiffened in his chair.
The shock wave. He was safe now, but somewhere, the Veridian star had been destroyed, and hundreds of millions had died in the resulting shock wave.
Perhaps even those aboard the Enterprise.
The thought so disrupted the tranquil joy of his surroundings that it seemed unbearable. To escape, he rose and walked over to a nearby window. Outside, snow fell steadily, quietly, from a leaden sky, blanketing the French countryside in white. He let the sight soothe him for a time.
And then his eye caught sight of it again, reflected in the windowpane: the dying star