Captain's Glory

2

U.S.S. TITAN NCC-80102, SALTON CROSS

STARDATE 58552.2

In less than an hour, the star would die.

It would take more than five hundred years for the light of its passing to reach Earth, but long before then the star’s demise would be analyzed and understood by the astronomers on board the starship now orbiting it.

It had taken less than three months for the U.S.S. Titan to reach Salton Cross. And, despite the immensity of space and the multitude of stars, given the unique nature of this one star it was inevitable that the Titan would not be alone.

The Luna-class starship’s classic twin-nacelle silhouette, flattened as if it had been frozen in the moment of its jump to warp speed, was framed both by the immense blue-white star it had come to study and by the gleaming, chrome-finish spikes and vanes of the Araldii ship that had joined it.

The two vessels, their commanders confident in the ability of their ships’ engines, were within the destruction zone of the coming supernova. But where there was danger, there was also the opportunity for scientific discovery. That’s what their mission was this day.

Neither ship’s commander knew of the war that had begun.

As much as Will Riker had enjoyed and treasured his time as first officer of the Enterprise, he had no trouble admitting that being captain of the Titan was even better.

His command was one of Starfleet’s newest class of starships, a return to the ideals of the Federation’s past, built for exploration as much as for military missions. Deceptively small, remarkably efficient in design and engineering, it was also home to a unique community of three hundred and fifty of the Federation’s best and brightest. Riker took pride in knowing that of the twelve Luna-class vessels in service, his ship held the most diverse crew. There were only fifty humans in its company.

That mix of human and aliens of all species-from Ferengi to Syrath, Cardassian to Vulcan, Trill to Pahkwathanh-filled the Titan with a vibrant mood of shared purpose and discovery. There was no greater adventure, no greater calling, than expanding the limits of knowledge, human and otherwise.

For some, Riker knew, the words bordered on cliche, and their grammar was questionable to be sure, but the speech Zefram Cochrane had given centuries ago still served perfectly to define the Titan’s mission-the mission for all beings at all times– “to boldly go.”

Riker couldn’t imagine a better, more fulfilling life. Especially since he shared it with his wife, his imzadi for decades, Deanna Troi.

Today, they were starting their workday as they usually did, in Riker’s ready room, he with his coffee, she with her tea.

Their topic of conversation, however, was a first for the Titan. They were in the midst of planning a formal reception and dinner for the Araldii, the newest species with which the Federation had made first contact.

More to the point, it was the first truly unknown species with which Captain Riker and the Titan had made first contact, without any preparation from Starfleet’s First Contact Office.

Which is why he and Troi had been joined this morning by Ship Leader Fortral, commander of the Araldii ship the Titan had encountered.

“It will be possible to reduce the atmospheric pressure in our reception hall to five hundred torr,” Troi said, referring to the notes on her protocol padd. On the Titan, Troi served both as ship’s counselor and diplomatic officer.

There was a brief lag as Fortral listened to the translator device in her headphones. According to the datastreams the ship leader had provided to the Titan, Aralda was a large world, twice the size of Earth, yet with gravity only two-thirds Earth normal. Its low density was in part responsible for its equally low-pressure atmosphere. The headphones Fortral wore not only fulfilled the need of providing translation functions, they helped diminish what was, to Araldii, the deafening volume and high pitch of human voices and the background noises of the Titan’s environmental systems.

“The low pressure will not cause you discomfort?” Fortral asked in concern. The dark blue, tigerlike stripes that ran horizontally across her pale blue skin glistened as her primary mouth moved. Her secondary mouth, located in what for humans would be the mid-chin region of her face, remained closed, used only for eating and drinking.

Fortral’s own voice was a soft, almost impossible-to-hear whisper. Riker’s and Troi’s universal translators recreated the gentle quality of the ship leader’s speech while boosting its volume.

“No,” Troi said. “Though it will affect the preparation of some of the foods we plan to serve.”

“We appreciate the gesture of goodwill,” Fortral said.

“As we appreciate the data you shared with us concerning the supernova,” Riker replied with a broad smile.

The Titan had arrived at Salton Cross two weeks earlier. The Type O star was eight times larger than Earth’s sun and had been catalogued centuries ago. But only in the past two decades had scientists reached the conclusion that the star was about to become a supernova.

Accordingly, the Titan had been tasked with ferrying a large contingent of astronomers and astrophysicists to the immediate vicinity of the star in order to observe its death throes.

In retrospect, Riker realized, he should not have been surprised to find an alien vessel already on station, waiting for the end; Araldii astrophysicists were the equal of the Federation’s. In fact, they had more detailed acoustic scans of the star’s surface than Starfleet’s automated probes had captured. Fortunately, the Araldii had been pleased with the historical observations that Riker had been able to share in exchange. The Araldii had not been studying the star for as long as humans had.

One of Fortral’s dark blue stripes flickered white for an instant and she held up her three-fingered hand-a human gesture Troi had shown her in the past few weeks-so Fortral could stop humans from talking as an “entangled” message came to her.

The stripes were not a natural part of Fortral’s body or coloration, but appeared, instead, to be a type of technology Riker and his science department had never seen. He’d asked his staff to try to determine if the stripes were the result of genetic engineering or nanite implants. They were still working on the matter.

What they were able to tell him was that the stripes functioned as communicators, transponders, tricorders, and even-Titan’s chief security officer had informed Riker, though the effect had never been demonstrated-as weapons.

Riker found all this fascinating. The basic tools of modern life aboard a starship could never be taken from the Araldii, because they were already incorporated into their flesh.

“My science leader informs me that the final detonation is approaching,” Fortral said.

Reflexively, Riker looked out the ready room’s portal. It was dialed down to almost total opacity, but Salton Cross filled more than half the view and the star’s blinding light was still hot on his face. The warmth reminded Riker of being on an actual oceangoing vessel, sails snapping, salt spray flying, sun blazing. He knew he would have been an explorer in any age to which he’d been born.

“That’s in line with our predictions, as well,” Troi confirmed.

Riker blinked as Fortral unnervingly flowed from the chair to a standing position. That really was the best term to describe the movement, he decided. His ship’s medical scans had indicated that the Araldii did not have a skeletal system, though they did have adaptive muscle bundles that fulfilled the same supportive function. Apparently, however, different postures required different arrangements of muscles. Whenever an Araldon moved from one position to another, it was almost as if air had been let out of her in one place so she could be reinflated in another.

And, Riker reminded himself, the Araldii on their ship were all females. Why there were no Araldii males on board was a question that had not yet been solved by either group’s translators. It was as if the question made no sense, or had no relevance to Fortral’s people.

“I should return, then,” Fortral said as her muscle bundles took on her walking configuration. “We will depart ahead of the shock wave as planned.”

At a nod from Troi, Riker stood as did she.

The plan that all had agreed to was that the Titan would withdraw from the north pole of Salton Cross at just under warp one. Doing so would permit the ship’s sensors to record high-resolution, time-expanded data from the star’s explosion. Fortral’s ship would do the same from the star’s south pole.

Riker and Fortral had set a week’s time for their next rendezvous. He was looking forward to the exchange of their sensor logs and the celebration of their first contact with a reception. The festivities would necessarily be taking place on the Titan. Human visitors to the attenuated atmosphere of the Araldii ship developed the equivalent of mountain sickness within hours.

Riker held out his hands to either side, palms out, as a human might gesture to indicate he carried no weapons; it was the Araldii gesture of greeting and farewell. “Ship Leader Fortral, I wish you a safe journey and look forward to your return.”

Fortral returned the gesture to Riker and to Troi as she waited for her translator to finish whispering Riker’s words to her. Then she replied, “I wish you the same, and with sincerity, may many males inhabit you.”

The Araldii ship leader then distorted her mouth in what some might think was a passable imitation of a human smile. Riker immediately turned to Troi for insight into Fortral’s strange statement, but the ship’s counselor just shook her head at him. When he turned back to Fortral, all the Araldon’s blue stripes were glistening, most of them flickering between dark blue and white. A moment later, she flickered into transparency, caught by her ship’s transporter.

” ‘May many males inhabit you’?” Riker asked.

Troi shrugged. “Whatever it meant, she said it with absolute conviction and well wishes. And I think she was actually trying to smile at you.”

“Then I’ll feel honored… I guess.”

The computer display on Riker’s desk chimed. “Bridge to Captain Riker.” It was Riker’s first officer, Commander Christine Vale.

“Go ahead.”

“Captain, the Araldii ship is withdrawing. Doctor Burke suggests we do the same.”

“On my way,” Riker answered. He gestured to the door leading to the bridge. “Time to go to work.”

Husband and wife, captain and counselor, Riker and Troi stepped onto the bridge of the Titan.

Joanna Burke, director of astronomy at the moon’s Weiler Observatory, was already waiting, standing by the science station to which she’d been assigned. Her attention was riveted on the main viewscreen, where Salton Cross seemed to pulse as its surface roiled with magnetic eddies large enough to swallow planets.

Commander Vale smoothly stood up from the center chair and moved to the right. “All systems ready for warp-point-nine-five withdrawal, bearing zero zero niner zero.”

As Riker sat down in the center chair at the back of the bridge, he thought again that its arrangement was a most comfortable combination of those on the EnterpriseD and –E. He spoke to his navigator. “Ensign Lavena, move us into position above the pole and prepare for warp.”

“Aye, sir.” Aili Lavena’s hydration suit made its characteristic gurgle of slow shifting water as she expertly moved her sheathed hands across her control board. As a marine humanoid at this stage in her life cycle, the Pacifican female was at home only in a fully aquatic environment.

But Lavena’s control of the Titan was assured and absolute, and in response to her flight commands, Salton Cross appeared to rotate on the viewscreen. The movement stopped only when the Titan was eighty million kilometers directly above its north magnetic pole.

“Magnificent,” Doctor Burke said. “Neutrino flux peaked one hundred, twelve minutes ago when the star’s core collapsed. The shock wave is just about to reach the surface. We can expect the initial blast to begin within five minutes.”

“Shields on full,” Riker ordered, even though he doubted they’d be required. At a distance of only eighty million kilometers from a supernova, the Titan’s shields would likely not protect the ship for more than a minute or two, and he had no desire to stay in place long enough to test the estimate. Riker had learned from his mentor to err on the side of caution wherever possible.

“Shields on full,” Commander Tuvok confirmed. As tactical officer, the Vulcan who had served with such distinction on Admiral Janeway’s Voyager brought a wealth of welcome experience to Riker’s crew. He had kept the ship operating smoothly during the first forty-eight hours of the Titan’s encounter with the Araldii, when the newcomers’ intentions had been unknown. Once their peaceful and cooperative nature had been confirmed, both by their willingness to share scientific data and Troi’s own empathic sensitivity, Tuvok had concerned himself solely with the safety precautions required for being so close to a star about to explode.

“Neutrino flux has dropped to zero,” Burke announced. “This is it.”

Riker instinctively wrapped his mind around the relativistic effects he had to account for in the next few minutes. He knew that neutrinos traveled at the speed of light. The fact that the ones produced in the core of Salton Cross were no longer being detected at this distance meant that the fusion reactions at the heart of the star had stopped four minutes and twenty-seven seconds ago. That was the brief time it took neutrinos to travel eighty million kilometers.

The visual image on the viewscreen, however, was constructed by subspace sensor data that propagated at faster-than-light speeds. Most important, that meant he could see the star as it was now.

As Riker watched intently, the star-abruptly– began to grow smaller, as if the Titan were already warping away.

“There it goes,” Burke said with excitement. “The star is collapsing-there’s no outward pressure of internal fusion reactions to counteract the inward pull of gravity.”

Riker held a hand near his face, as did everyone else on the bridge. Even with visual safeguards in place, the flash of light was going to be strong.

“Criticality in seven… six… five… four… three…”

Burke’s countdown was interrupted.

Two seconds ahead of her best estimate, Salton Cross went supernova.

Over the past few weeks, Riker had come to know Burke well enough to realize that she would be thrilled to have miscalculated and would already be mentally revising her model of the star’s interior processes.

The main viewscreen went white.

Thanks to the preparatory sessions Burke’s team had conducted for interested Titan crew, Riker understood why. Slightly less than four minutes and twenty-seven seconds away, a deadly wave of radiation was streaming toward his ship. It would be followed by a slightly slower though even more destructive wall of ejected solar plasma.

The radiation had the capability to knock out every system on Titan, including the shields. And if those failed, every member of the crew would be fatally irradiated within seconds. A few minutes later, when the shock wave hit the ship, the Titan would be shattered, likely into its component molecules.

Riker had no intention of waiting for any of that to happen.

“That’s it, Aili… take us out, warp factor point nine five.”

“Point nine five it is, Captain.”

Riker leaned back in his chair, smiled at Troi. “Best seats in the house,” he said.

In that same instant the main alarm sounded and red lights flashed.

The Titan violently pitched forward, then down.

Riker swiftly scanned his bridge. Under present conditions, the strength of that lag in the inertial dampers could mean only one thing: The ship had dropped out of warp as quickly as it had jumped to it.

“Report!” he said, but already his eyes had found the source of the trouble: Every warning light at the engineering station flashed red.

Riker’s conn officer fought to keep Titan’s dampers and structural-integrity field in alignment.

“Engineering reports warp core offline,” Tuvok calmly announced over the alarms.

“Maximum impulse!” Riker ordered. Though they couldn’t reach light speed on impulse alone, increasing the distance between the radiation shock wave and the ship would buy his ship a few more seconds. “Bridge to engineering!”

The Titan’s chief engineer, Doctor Xin Ra-Havreii, answered at once, voice uncharacteristically tense. Riker could hear shouted commands and rapid conversations in the background. “Engineering, Captain.”

“How soon can you bring warp drive back online?” Riker asked, urgent.

“It is online-the core’s building toward a breach! This is a full-scale– ” There was a pause, then Riker heard the Efrosian engineer swear in one of his homeworld’s more obscure dialects.

“Stand by, Captain! Initiating emergency core ejection!”

Riker’s ship shuddered. All alarms switched off.

“Warp core away,” Ra-Havreii said.

A moment later, the ejected core detonated less than a kilometer from the ship.

The too-close explosion drove subspace concussion waves into the Titan, overloading its shields and sending a compression pulse through all major circuits.

The lights on the bridge flickered off.

The main viewscreen winked out.

The ship’s computer network was down.

Riker was on his feet. Battery-powered emergency lights glowed, but the display screens at all stations flashed with random static.

All hands on the bridge turned to their captain for his orders.

But the Titan hung dead in space.

And less than four minutes away, a wall of radiation raced forward at 300,000 kilometers each second to ensure the same fate would soon befall her crew.