More than anything else at this moment, Riker wanted to order his wife to the hangar deck; the Titan’s shuttlecraft could travel at warp to reach safety. But with main power offline, there was no time left to manually depressurize the deck to launch the shuttles or the captain’s skiff.
Riker drove the wishful thinking and impossible dilemma from his mind. “Troi, ask Ship Leader Fortral if they can use their tractor beam at warp.”
Lights flickered on the bridge as main power returned.
Riker tapped his combadge. “Was that you, Doctor Ra-Havreii?”
The chief engineer replied. “Power’s coming back… getting ready to divert it all to aft shields…”
Riker became aware of Joanna Burke beside him.
“It won’t be enough,” the astrophysicist said. “I know the specs of your shields. This close to a supernova… they won’t be adequate.”
Lavena reported from the conn. “Radiation front is three minutes from arrival.”
Riker turned to Burke. “You need to get to the mess hall on Deck Seven,” he urged her. “That’ll put the mass of the ship between you and whatever radiation gets past the shields.”
The astrophysicist stood her ground. “If I’m going to die, I’d rather watch the sensors.”
“Will, the Araldii ship has arrived,” Troi announced.
“Onscreen,” Riker said, though he didn’t know if those systems had been restored.
But the viewscreen switched on to reveal Ship Leader Fortral, floating among a web of netting on her ship’s zero-gravity bridge. Even though Riker had known her for less than two weeks, he could see that she was upset.
“Captain Riker,” the Araldon said through the com circuit’s translator, “you’ve experienced a warp-core breach?”
“That’s correct, Ship Leader. And there’s no time to install our backup.”
Fortral’s secondary mouth opened for just an instant. It was a disconcerting sight, and Riker felt as if the alien’s face had gone out of focus. His eyes struggled to accept the image of two mouths, one over the other.
“I regret we don’t have the ability to tow your ship at warp.”
“Then tow us at impulse,” Riker said. “The farther away we are when the radiation hits, the better the chance our shields will be able to protect us.” Riker didn’t bother looking at Burke; he knew it was a long shot. Then he thought of another strategy. “Ship Leader Fortral-can your shields withstand the radiation at this distance?”
Fortral looked up at something beyond the range of the visual sensor, as if checking a reading. “Barely.”
At a nod from her captain, Lavena made her next report. “Radiation front is one minute, ten seconds from arrival.”
“I won’t ask you to endanger yourselves for us,” Riker told Fortral truthfully. “But for whatever help you can provide, we will be grateful.”
“Understood,” the Araldon replied.
The screen went dead.
“They’re leaving,” Troi said with surprise.
Riker was startled. He had expected some kind of assistance. “Raise them again.”
“No response.”
The lights on the bridge of the Titan dimmed.
“Engineering to bridge. Diverting all power to aft shields.”
“Captain, one minute to radiation front,” Lavena said. The conn officer’s voice, produced by muscle contractions, not airflow, was subdued, uncertain.
Riker leaned forward in his chair. His racing mind considered, discarded, reconsidered all his options, as limited as they were. He ran through everything he knew about supernovas… turned sharply in his chair.
“Doctor Burke! If we detonate all our quantum torpedoes just ahead of the radiation front, can we create a pressure bubble? One that might absorb or divert at least some of the energy heading toward us?”
Burke stared back at him, her gaze fixed as if she were attempting to solve all the equations his question required.
“Yes or no, Doctor?”
Burke did not respond at once, still lost in thought.
Riker had no more time to waste. He twisted back to face his tactical officer. “Tuvok… fire all quantum torpedoes on my mark, directly astern.” He addressed the astronomer, without looking back at her. “Best guess, Doctor-at what distance do they detonate? How much in advance of the radiation front? Now!”
Burke’s tense voice betrayed that she was flustered, but she knew the stakes. “Detonate as close as you can to the ship.” Then she had a question of her own for Riker. “How long for a quantum-torpedo explosion to reach maximum pressure?”
Riker shook his head, frustrated, knowing that Data would have given him the answer at once. He, in contrast, would have to look it up, discuss it with-The answer suddenly came to him. “A tenth of a second!” Whether that was really the figure, remembered from some long-ago lecture, or simply a bad guess, Riker didn’t know. But there was no chance to confirm or change it.
“Then set them off two-tenths of a second ahead of the radiation front!”
Riker felt Burke put a hand on his shoulder as if in apology. “It’s the best I can do! Sorry!”
“Lavena!” Riker said.
“Twenty-five seconds to arrival.”
“Tuvok, can you program the delay?”
“No time, Captain. I will have to do it manually.”
“Two-tenths of a second-no more, no less.”
“Understood, Captain… fifteen seconds… fourteen…”
Then the whole ship rocked violently, inertial dampers barely keeping up with the change in orientation.
Riker quickly scanned all the displays he could, searching for an explanation for the shock. “Report!”
This time, Burke was first to answer. The astrophysicist was reading from her sensors. “The Araldii ship… it exploded… directly astern…”
“Three seconds,” Lavena called out from the conn.
Riker looked over at Troi. From the look on his wife’s face, Riker knew she felt as he did, that she longed for one final embrace. But he stayed where he was, as did she. Whatever else they were to each other, first and foremost they were Starfleet officers.
“Two seconds…”
Looking straight ahead, Riker stood up, put his hand on his chair arm. Bracing for-
“Firing!”
The capacitor twang of a full spread of quantum torpedoes launching echoed through the bridge. Almost instantly the deck tilted violently as the ship pitched down, and Riker was thrown back, slamming into the step leading down from the engineering station.
The Titan’s shields will be out of alignment! Next time we should…
The utter foolishness of this sudden thought made Riker laugh before he sank into blackness with a different realization filling his mind.
He and his crew and his wife and their ship were finished.
There would be no next time.
5
S.S. BELLE REVE, VULCAN
STARDATE 58552.2
