Star Trek_ Generations - J M. Dillard [81]
With a thrill of exhilaration, Picard drew in a breath and began testing other controls. Picard!
Sorans shrill voice echoed off the surrounding cliffs. At the sound of it, Picard forced himself not to look up for a half-second, forced himself to keep his eyes on the screen and find the command he sought. He could not read the script, but he understood the visual graphic well enough: It showed two large forcefield locks encircling the rocket.
He selected the command in a half-second, no more, then glanced up to see Soran striding swiftly toward him over the rock-strewn clay, arm extended, disruptor aimed at Picards heart.
Get away from that launcher! Now!
Picard lifted his hands and backed carefully away, then turned and leaped from the platform as Soran approached.
He took cover behind a rock and watched as the scientist climbed up to scowl at the launcher control panel.
Soran hunched over the launcher panel as, overhead, bolts of prismatic lightning streaked through the blue Veridian sky.
Not long. It would not be long nowonly seconds away from Leandra and the children, so long as Picard had not, in his moralistic idiocy, altered the rockets course.
With the trembling fingers of one hand, he pressed the control and stared uncomprehendingly at the message that appeared on the screen: Locking clamps engaged.
In disbelief, he gazed up at the sky, at the promise of paradise, lost. The ribbon was here now, and the time for the probe to be launched was now, not two seconds from now, or five, the time it would take him to correct Picards intrusion. Leandra
He would join her, yesbut not in the manner hed hoped.
He thought of the watch she had given him, ticking relentlessly against his heart.
Out of time, my darling. You and I are out of time … Zero hour. The rocket strained to launch against its restraints. Soran knew full well what was coming, yet refused to yield to instinct, to fling himself from the platform. Instead, he held fast to the panel, embracing the explosion when it came to take him out of time … Leandra
Heat. Pain. Blazing white. And then the darkness …
Overwhelmed by grief and remorse, triumph and exhilaration, Picard knelt beside Kirks body. The bridge had plummeted into the ravine, and the captain had been buried beneath the resulting avalanche of metal and stone; now he lay motionless beneath a large rock, his face pale, his lips stained with blood. Picard hastened to move away stones and fragments of twisted metal; although it was too late to help, the least he could do was give Kirk a burial befitting a hero.
The legendary captain was finally, truly dead. The fact filled Picard with strange sorrow; despite the fact that he had always relegated James Kirk to the past, despite the brevity of their encounter, he felt a deep kinship with the man.
And then Kirks eyes flicked open; he drew a ragged, hitching breath.
Did we do it? he whispered. Did we make a difference?
Oh, yes. Picard released a sigh that caught in his throat. We made a difference. Thank you.
Least I could do … for the captain of the Enterprise. Racked by a spasm of pain, he coughed, a deep gurgling sound emanating from his lungs. Fresh blood flecked his lips. Yet before Picard could urge him to remain quiet, he continued, a weak smile playing at his lips. It was … fun.
He stared sightlessly up at the sky, a pane of sunlight illuminating his features. All suffering seemed suddenly to leave him; his expression grew reflective, peaceful. In the distance a lone bird burst into song.
And then the faint smile abruptly vanished, replaced by a look of infinite amazement, infinite wonder. Oh my, he whispered, eyes wide.
Picard glanced up at the sky, expecting to see a rescue craft or some equally inspiring sightbut there was nothing overhead save blue sunlit sky.
When he looked down again, Kirk had gone.
Deanna Troi inhaled a lungful of smoke and coughed, then winced at the sudden spasm in her ribs. The sharpness of it helped clear her head; she stirred, and realized that she had been thrown from her chair