Star Trek_ Generations - J M. Dillard [77]
He would feel no pity for either of them. They were trying to steal his very life from him, just as surely as he would now claim theirs.
Pain and madness heightened his agility and his senses; he moved quickly, easily over the rocks, and so silently that soon he detected Kirks stertorous, gasping breath nearby, on the other side of a giant rock.
He ran around it smoothly, pulling out his disruptor just in time to aim it cleanly at Kirks head. The human gazed at him with greenish-brown eyes that were intense, wary, but oddly free of fear.
Actually, Soran said, not bothering to keep the exultation from his tone, I am familiar with history, Captain. And if Im not mistaken, youre dead.
He had intended to squeeze the trigger at that momentbut at the instant the word dead had slipped from his tongue, his eyes had caught a blur of movement to one side.
Picard, leaping down from atop a rock.
The distraction allowed Kirk to rush Soran, who bellowed at the realization that there was no time to take aim, nothing to be done except to hurl himself backward against Picardand send him rolling down a nearby slope.
The odds were better, but even so, the supposedly dead captain never allowed Soran the opportunity to recover and fire the disruptor. Instead, Kirk threw himself upon the scientist, coming dangerously close to knocking the weapon from Sorans hand.
Soran struggled with a madmans intensity, a madmans strength, merely to hold on to the disruptor, but this aging dead human who fought with an odd glimmer of humor in his eyes was more than a match. Soran cried out, kicked out, lashed outand yet Kirk shook off each blow and replied with one of his own.
And at last he struck Sorans chin with such force that the scientist almost fell onto the cliffs below, managing at the last instant to clutch the chain-metal railing as his lungs emptied with a hoarse rush of air. His fingers nearly lost their grip, then through some miraculous intervention, managed to clasp on to the weapon.
Yet when he attempted to raise it and fire, Kirk struck out againthis time causing Soran to stumble, and step out upon empty air.
Mindlessly, he clung to the disruptor as though it could save him and, for a brief, breathless millisecond, clawed one-handed in midair for purchase, seeing before him in the wide sky another dazzling streak: the promise of the future, lost. Then came another instant of grace as he swiped at the chains, the railing, the bridge itself, and his hands came away with a thin lifeline: a rope.
Soran fell.
As he fell, he slid down the rope, one palm and the crook of one elbow burning as they gripped the lifeline, his knees and shins and feet slamming against the hillside. Above him, Kirk and Picard and the scaffolding receded with dizzying speed.
Abruptly, Soran bore down against the rope with his knees, and came to a lurching halt; there he dangled but a second, thumping against the red rockface, disruptor still in his tenacious grip, before he realized what he had to do.
Picard and Kirk had run off the bridge and were moving down the rocks. Soran did not care if they moved toward him; his greater concern was the launcher. And so he carefully replaced his disruptor in his belt, then reached for the remote launcher control pad. Balancing his feet against stone, he pressed the appropriate control, and permitted himself a grimly hopeful smile.
Seconds earlier, as Picard approached Kirk on the scaffolding and the two of them watched Sorans strange descent, Kirk spoke with what appeared to be good-natured annoyance.
I thought you were heading for the launcher.
I changed my mind, Picard said. Captains prerogative. He did not care to admit the truth: that he had had a sudden overwhelming premonition that the legendary captain needed his help. There had still been enough time before the probes launch, so he had yielded to instinct. Certainly, the real James T. Kirk would not have required