Titan, Book One

by Michael A. Martin

  “Then I would like to begin with the civilians. Get a taste of them, as it were.”

  Ogawa laughed aloud at Ree’s joke. She was beginning to find his enthusiasm infectious. Nodding, she said, “I have just the person in mind to be your first patient, Doctor.”

  Ogawa walked across the sickbay toward her office. The door slid obediently open, revealing two figures seated behind the desk. Her young son Noah was staring down at a padd, his brow crumpled in concentration. Hunched over it with him, his Trill spots only just visible on his thickly bearded face, was Ranul Keru.

  “You can do it, all you have to do is think it through,” Ranul said in an encouraging tone. “Just remember to cancel out the terms on both sides of the equation.”

  “But it doesn’t make sense,” Noah complained.

  “It only seems that way. Take your time.”

  Ogawa paused in the doorway for a moment to watch them work. She felt a surge of gratitude for Ranul’s continued presence in Noah’s life. Like Ranul, Ogawa and her son had suffered a terrible loss while serving aboard the Enterprise; over the past two years, that shared grief had drawn the three of them together, almost as a de facto family. Ranul had lost Sean Hawk to the Borg more than six years ago; two years later, Ogawa had lost Andrew Powell, Noah’s father, during the Dominion War at the Battle of Rigel. Sometimes she likened the three of them to ionized atoms brought together out of a desperate need to share their few remaining electrons.

  Though Andrew had been dead for nearly five years, Ogawa saw her late husband’s kind, strong face every time she looked at Noah. The child was both a comfort to her and a painful reminder of her loss, though thankfully much more the former than the latter.

  “Sorry to interrupt the math lesson,” she said.

  Ranul grinned at her. “That’s all right. I think we both needed a break.”

  Ogawa stepped into the office. “Good. Because there’s somebody here I want you to meet.” She swept her arm toward the open doorway behind her, where Titan’s new chief medical officer crouched so as not to bump his scaly head as he entered. “Lieutenant Commander Keru, Noah Powell, say hello to Doctor Ree.”

  Ranul looked startled for a split second. Then he smiled an easy smile, and introduced himself as he leaned forward across the desk to offer his hand in greeting. The doctor briefly took the hand in his gentle, hyperarticulated grasp. Then the reptiloid surgeon disengaged from the handshake and fixed his serpentine gaze on her son.

  She squinted and held her breath for a moment, hoping that Dr. Ree’s decidedly alien appearance wouldn’t startle her son into saying something embarrassing. Noah was, after all, only eight years old.

  Noah rose, goggle-eyed and silent as he stared at Ree. A long beat passed. “Wow,” he said at length, drawing out the word and brushing a shock of jet-black hair out of his eyes. His voice was breathless, but without a trace of fear. “A Pahkwa-thanh. Cool!”

  “So, you still don’t have your exec, then?” Admiral William Ross asked, a concerned look on his face as he snatched the steaming cup of raktajino from the replicator.

  Riker maintained a neutral expression, though he inwardly counted to ten before answering. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear that Ross and Akaar were second-guessing him. Maybe they’re just testing me for prelaunch jitters. Better not disappoint them.

  “No, sir. But I can’t afford to rush a decision as important as this one,” Riker said evenly, seated behind his heavy Elaminite desk. “My XO needs to be someone that I know I can trust implicitly before we even clear the moorings.”

  Seated in one of the chairs in front of Riker’s desk, Admiral Akaar uncrossed and recrossed his long legs, almost grazing the side of the desk as he did so. Though the towering Capellan seemed less tightly wound than Ross, Riker still couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling that whatever news they were bringing him could not be good.

  “And none of your Enterprise confederates fit the bill?” Akaar asked.

  “Yes, and no, sir. I had three candidates from the Enterprise. All of them turned me down.” He had more or less expected Geordi and Worf not to take the position, though either man would have excelled in it. But he was still stunned that Christine Vale had turned him down not once, but twice.

  Of course, I turned down three captaincies before I finally saw the light, he thought. If he could finally change his mind, then why couldn’t she?

  Akaar and Ross exchanged a glance, then looked back at Riker, neither saying anything. Ross blew on his raktajino and sipped cautiously.

  “There were exigent circumstances behind their decisions,” Riker said, feeling defensive in the silence. “In fact, I’m going to pay a visit to one of them shortly. This time I feel certain that the candidate in question will accept my offer.” Please, Christine, take the job! Riker thought to himself.

  Akaar’s mahogany-brown eyes focused on Riker like a pair of mining lasers. “May we assume, Captain, that the unnamed person who eventually becomes this ship’s executive officer will not be another member of your immediate family?”

  He’s trying to bait me, Riker thought, though he wasn’t about to allow either admiral to provoke him into losing his cool. “I assume, Admiral, that you’re referring to the presence of my wife on my senior staff.”

  “I am, Captain,” Akaar said. “I have seen other command officers make similar personnel decisions, often to their great regret. They frequently have great difficulty maintaining their objectivity.”

  Riker wondered if Akaar was referring to Lieutenant Nella Daren, who had served as the Enterprise-D’s head stellar cartographer about a decade ago. Daren’s brief romance with Jean-Luc Picard had resulted in both her and the captain going their separate ways over the very issue Akaar was raising now. But my relationship with Deanna is different, Riker told himself. We didn’t just meet and start a relationship from scratch. We’ve known each other for twenty years. And we’re married now.

  Families serving together on starships was nothing new to Starfleet, but seldom the captain’s family, and Riker knew that was Akaar’s point.

  “I am well aware of the pitfalls, Admiral,” Riker said evenly. “Nevertheless, I’m completely satisfied that Commander Troi is my best possible choice for the dual role of diplomatic officer and senior counselor. Her record speaks for itself. As does mine, I think.”

  Riker had been shifting his gaze from one admiral to the other as he spoke. He made certain his next utterance was directed squarely at Akaar. “The fact that Commander Troi and I are married will have absolutely no bearing on any decision I might make.”

  Both admirals sat impassively, concealing their reactions with the skill of master poker players. A moment of silence passed, and Riker decided to take the bull by the horns. “Please forgive my bluntness, but I find it hard to believe that the purpose of your surprise visit was to quiz me about my senior-officer roster.”

  Akaar leaned forward, uncrossing his legs again and resting his large hands on his knees. “No, it is not, Captain. The reason we came was to discuss your first assignment.”

  Riker’s brow furrowed. “It was my understanding,” he began, “that I would be receiving specific orders about our mission from Admiral de la Fuego, once we arrived at Starbase 185.”

  “No,” Ross said tersely, interrupting—and making Riker’s heart sink precipitously. “There’s going to be a delay, Captain. Admiral de la Fuego has already been advised that you won’t be reporting to Starbase 185 on schedule. You have a new mission.” He set his mug down on the desktop and leaned in slightly, drawing closer to Riker. “Understand that for now, most of the information about this mission is being distributed on a purely need-to-know basis, and all you need to know at this moment are the basics. You may inform members of your senior staff and your crew what we’re about to tell you. However, many of the details are quite sensitive, based on intelligence that’s currently in flux, and therefore may not be made completely available to you or your crew until this ship is
ready to sail.”

  Riker leaned back in his chair, pulling away from Ross in the process. “I take it that despite this ship’s stated purpose, the mission we’re about to undertake will be neither exploratory nor scientific?”

  “You are to proceed to the Romulan Neutral Zone, Captain,” Akaar said emphatically, pointedly not responding to Riker’s obvious but not-yet-stated concerns. “In response to Praetor Tal’Aura’s request for a Federation-Romulan dialogue, the Federation Council and Starfleet Command have placed Titan at the head of a small multilateral diplomatic and humanitarian convoy. I do not need to tell you how dangerous it would be if the Romulan Empire were to dissolve. The resulting political upheavals could spread large amounts of unaccounted-for weaponry across the quadrant. But this is a very real possibility. Your mission, in part, is to alleviate the social and political chaos that now threatens to sweep Romulus, Remus, and the rest of the Empire because of Shinzon’s assassination of the Romulan Senate, and the power vacuum left in the wake of his own subsequent demise.”

  Riker was already regrettably all too well aware of Shinzon’s crimes; the crew of the Enterprise-E had been directly involved in stopping the mad, self-anointed praetor’s murderous bid for galactic power.

  “We expect that the task force will be greeted by a contingent of Romulan ships in the Neutral Zone,” Akaar said. “And we anticipate that they will then conduct Titan and her convoy to Romulus itself, where you will conduct the diplomatic phase of your mission.”

  “I’m curious as to why we’re sending relief ships,” Riker said, already beginning to get over his initial surprise at this sudden change to his mission. “I wasn’t aware that things had gotten so desperate on the other side of the Neutral Zone.” If they had, he reasoned, then it was doubtful that the crew would have the luxury of spending the next two weeks completing Titan’s launch preparations.

  “Romulus has not descended into complete chaos—yet,” Akaar said. “But the supply chains within empires are notoriously vulnerable to political instabilities. Should the regime on Romulus topple altogether, the aid supplies carried by your task force may well become essential, at least in the short term. We anticipate, in that event, that whichever Romulan and Reman leaders emerge from the subsequent power struggles will respond to our goodwill with the appropriate gratitude.”

  Running one hand through his brown-and-gray hair, Ross continued after Akaar paused. “The Romulan Star Empire, or what’s presently left of it, now stands vulnerable not only to outside attack, but also teeters at the edge of a potentially apocalyptic civil war as various Romulan and Reman political factions squabble over the reins of power. At the request of Praetor Tal’Aura, you will mediate power-sharing talks between the various opposing sides. Though the Romulans have been committed Federation adversaries for the last two centuries, the Federation Council and Starfleet Command are both greatly concerned about the ramifications of political chaos in the Romulan Empire.”

  Chaos. Riker found his own mind verging on it at this moment. The Enterprise’s last mission to Romulan space had been traumatic enough for that ship and her crew, bringing about the deaths of Lieutenant Commander Data and scores of others. Not to mention the psychic rape that Shinzon himself had inflicted on Deanna. Though Riker had no doubt that his wife and diplomatic officer would do her duty without hesitation, he could also guess how hard it would be for her to return so soon to the very place where Shinzon had violated her.

  He was about to be sent into one of the most politically volatile places in the galaxy, with an untried new ship and an untested crew—nearly all of them dedicated explorers who had prepared for, and expected to undertake, a mission of an entirely different order.

  Chapter Four

  U.S.S. TITAN, STARDATE 56941.4

  “I officially pronounce her fit and ready to fly, sir,” Lieutenant Commander Nidani Ledrah said as she replaced the access panel to the Armstrong’s port engine nacelle. She rose from a crouch and strode alongside the spotless new type-11 shuttlecraft, and beamed with professional pride.

  Riker returned Ledrah’s smile, delighted by her enthusiasm.

  “I’m curious about something, Captain,” Ledrah said, her voice echoing across the high, vaulted spaces of Titan’s primary hangar deck. Nearby was parked the runabout Irrawaddy, which had brought Admirals Ross and Akaar aboard. Shuttlecrafts Ellington, Gillespie, Holiday, Handy, Beiderbecke, Marsalis, and Mance were all arrayed neatly beyond, positioned farther away than both the Armstrong and the Irrawaddy from the forcefield barrier that prevented Titan’s atmosphere from rushing out into the airless void. Beyond the hangar’s yawning aperture, Mars presented its ancient, sanguine, crater-pocked face.

  “Ask away, Commander,” Riker said, slowly walking around the sleek auxiliary craft, admiring its simple, tapered lines. Of the eight shuttlecraft aboard Titan, the Armstrong had already become his hands-down favorite.

  “I heard you’re taking her to Earth, sir.”

  “You heard correctly, Commander. Why? Are you that eager to have her back?”

  “No, sir, not at all,” Ledrah said, sounding almost flustered.

  Riker raised a hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Nidani. I promise not to scratch her up.”

  “No, sir, that isn’t what I meant at all. I was just wondering if you were coming back with a new exec.”

  Riker nodded, understanding. “As opposed to offering the job to somebody who’s already aboard.”

  “Not that I was planning on spreading it around, sir.” Ledrah had grown beet-red. She clearly wished she’d approached this conversation with half as much care as she’d just taken getting through the Armstrong’s preflight checklist.

  “Of course not, Nidani,” Riker deadpanned. “I like to think of Titan as a 350-person village. So you can imagine how shocked I’d be if any gossip started making the rounds.”

  Ledrah looked embarrassed. Changing the subject, Riker returned his attention to the Armstrong’s white hull metal, which was utterly smooth and unblemished.

  “She’s a real beauty, isn’t she?”

  Ledrah seemed relieved at the shift in conversational trajectory. “She certainly is, sir. Cruising speed of warp nine, warp nine-point-four max. She can even manage warp nine-point-eight for up to thirty-six hours in an emergency. Though I wouldn’t recommend it if you don’t absolutely have to.”

  “Good to know. But with any luck I won’t have any need to reach near-transwarp speeds between here and Earth orbit.”

  Ledrah now looked abashed by her brief technological rhapsody, though Riker assumed such things to be an occupational hazard to chief engineers everywhere. “Right, sir. Of course. I was, ah, just trying to say she’s definitely worthy of her name.”

  Guessing what was coming next, Riker suppressed a mischievous smile. “Her name?”

  Ledrah returned the smile with an enthusiastic grin of her own. “Yes, sir. Armstrong. The first human to leave his bootprints on Luna. Makes sense, since Titan is a Luna-class vessel, after all.” She was clearly proud of her knowledge of Earth’s aerospace pioneers.

  Riker manually entered his access code into the keypad located on the forward starboard hatch, which obediently hissed open. “I’m afraid that’s not who she’s actually named after, Nidani.”

  “She’s not named after Neil Armstrong, sir?” Ledrah’s grin suddenly dimmed by several hundred gigawatts.

  “Nope. Neil was already spoken for when Starfleet issued us our shuttlecraft. There’s already a Challenger-class starship named after that particular Armstrong.” Riker entered the cockpit and took a seat behind the spotless black flight controls. He looked through the open hatchway and relished the engineer’s escalating confusion.

  “So…which Armstrong is she named for, sir?”

  Riker quickly tapped a series of commands into the flight console. “Louis,” he said a moment before the hatch hissed shut, mercifully cutting off whatever response Ledrah might have made. He wondered briefly whe
ther she recognized the reference, or if she would immediately run to a computer terminal to look it up.

  Shortly thereafter the great Satchmo’s namesake glided with a momentary flash through the atmosphere-retention forcefield of the hangar deck, cleared Titan’s drydock, accelerated, and took wing across the ruddy face of Mars, quickly leaving her mothership and Utopia Planitia behind. Then Riker guided the craft along a graceful, gentle arc down the Solar gravity well toward Earth.

  Earth grew quickly from a pale dot to a small blue disk to a great azure orb. Descending to an altitude of about three hundred kilometers over the eastern coastline of Africa, Riker matched the shuttlecraft Armstrong’s velocity with that of the orbiting McKinley Station. As the open space-dock facility drew steadily nearer, Riker began to make out fine details on the hull of the great Sovereign-class starship inside. The majestic leviathan was suspended, gently cradled between the drydock’s duranium struts and girders.

  He had a visceral sensation of having come home, if only for one last visit. But the Enterprise isn’t my home anymore, he thought with a wistfulness that surprised him.

  At least a dozen environmental-suited repair techs could be seen working at various points on the dorsal area of the starship’s saucer section, while nimble one- and two-person work bees methodically transported personnel and components to and fro. Though the exterior repairs and inspections were clearly continuing, there remained almost no trace of the hideous damage inflicted on the Enterprise during her head-on collision with Shinzon’s flagship, the Scimitar. Angling the Armstrong beneath the starship’s ventral surface, Riker noted that the captain’s yacht, the Calypso II, was back in its customary place, integrated seamlessly into the saucer. The auxiliary vessel, the replacement for a predecessor that had been destroyed during the previous year’s disastrous Rashanar mission, displayed not so much as a scratch.

  It’s good to see that the repairs to the captain’s yacht went so well. Riker smiled, thinking back to the honeymoon he and Deanna had begun on Pelagia less than a month ago. As a wedding gift, Captain Picard had lent them the Calypso II for that excursion, a voyage that had subjected the craft to more than a few bumps and bruises. Though Picard hadn’t made any mention of the damage afterward, Riker would have been able to sense the captain’s displeasure even without the help of Deanna’s Betazoid empathy.