Star Trek_ Generations - J M. Dillard [73]
He raised his face and looked beyond Picard, at some invisible distant memory, then stepped over to the sink and grasped the handle of the frying pan.
These were Ktarian eggs. Her favorite. His expression dimmed, grew somber. I was cooking them to soften the blow … and I gave her this. He lifted the horseshoe in his other hand.
Picard stepped forward, impatient. I know how real this must seem to you, he said, thinking of Elise, of little Mimi, her face reflecting the glow of the shimmering tree. Seeing someone else seduced by the nexus was a revelation; now that he was distanced from his own fantasy, he could see clearly now just how illusory, how false it all was. But its not. This isnt really your house. Weve both been caught up in some sort of temporal nexus.
Dill weed, Kirk replied, with sudden excitement. He pointed at the pantry to Picards left. Theres a bottle of dill weed on the second shelf to the left, right behind the nutmeg.
And he promptly set down the horseshoe and scraped out the ruined eggs, then switched on the stove and set the pan on a flaming burner.
Picard faltered, uncertain. Recruiting Kirk was proving more difficult than he expected. He was tempted to refuse to cooperate, to insist that Kirk pay attention to him nowyet instinct said to be patient. He was, after all, not losing any time by playing along; Guinan had said that he could always return to the precise moment before Soran launched the probe.
He released a small sigh and fetched the dill weed, then handed it to Kirk. He paused, watching as Kirk pulled two fresh eggs from an old-fashioned refrigeration device and cracked them open on the now-sizzling skillet, then lifted a spatula from a nearby drawer and began to stir.
How long have you been here? Picard asked conversationally. Perhaps if he could integrate himself into Kirks fantasy, he might meet with more success.
Kirk sprinkled dill weed over the cooking eggs. I dont know. He frowned faintly, remembering. I was on the Enterprise-B … in the deflector control room … He broke off and handed Picard the spatula. Keep stirring these, will you?
He moved to a cabinet, opened it, and began setting plates on a breakfast tray. With mild amusement at himself, Picard repressed the surge of indignation that rose at yet again taking orders from another captain, and obediently stirred the eggs.
The bulkhead in front of me disappeared, Kirk continued casually, as though he were relating an everyday occurrence. Then I was out here, chopping wood. He smiled. And Ive also been a few other thousand or so places since then. I could hardly believe it at first … but Ive gotten used to it. He moved back to the stove and took the pan from Picard. Thanks.
History records that you died saving the Enterprise-B from an energy ribbon eighty years ago, Picard said. He expected a reaction at that, but the oblivious smile remained fixed on Kirks lips.
Kirk glanced up, faintly amused, but not in the least bit distracted from his enjoyment of the moment. So youre telling me this is the twenty-fourth century … and Im dead? As he spoke, he removed the pan from the stove and scooped the eggs onto the plates, then set a small vase of flowers onto the tray.
Not exactly. As I said, this is some kind of …
Temporal nexus. Kirks smile widened as he worked. Yeah, I heard you. He set the hot pan in the sink, then turned back and frowned down at the tray. Somethings missing …
As if on cue, two pieces of toast popped up from an antique toaster on the counter. Kirk grinned at them with delight, set one on each plate and headed out of the kitchen with the tray.
Picard followed, suddenly desperate as he felt his chance slipping away. Captain, he said, as urgently as he could manage, I need your help. I want you to leave the nexus with me.
Kirk said nothing, merely headed through a spacious, rustic