William Shatner: Captain's Glory

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.”