by Susan Wright
A heating conduit ruptured, sending a plume of steam shooting down the center of the Jeffries tube. Titus rode out the battle, hardly able to see his hand in front of his face. He decided it felt much worse than he had been led to believe from simulations. Or maybe the shields had failed, in which case they were in big trouble. From the concussions, it felt like the hull was caving in.
He gritted his teeth against the next impact, counting nine so far, when the tenth never came. When he finally untensed and began to unwrap himself from around the joint of the docking latch, the computer announced, “Warp‑core breach in progress. Evacuate the battle section. All personnel proceed to the saucer section.”
Ensign Karol came bounding up the Jeffries tube. “Stay here to help everyone through! I’ll get to the next access tube. We’ve got–”
“Warp‑core breach in four minutes thirty seconds,” the computer interrupted.
Titus helped funnel people through his tube, urging them to crawl as fast as they could past the blinding rupture in the atmospheric conduit. The computer relentlessly counted down every fifteen seconds.
“Warp‑core breach in two minutes.”
“Enor!” Titus called out as the Trill climbed through the hatch.
“We’re clearing the last ones through,” she told him.
“Why aren’t they using the corridors?” he asked, pulling back to let the other officers go by, protecting their eyes against the steam. “This isn’t safe.”
“We’re leaving the easier routes to the children and civilians–”
The computer interrupted, “Warp‑core breach in one minute thirty seconds.”
“That’s it,” said a lieutenant, the last officer to pass through the hatch.
Titus lingered, knowing that the hatch would self‑seal when the docking latch retracted. But he couldn’t understand why the magnetic interlock hadn’t been activated. He wondered if it had been ruptured in the battle, along with the coolant leak. Or it could be pinched open by the jammed latch.
“Why won’t the magnetic interlock switch on?” he asked, frantic.
The lieutenant glanced back before disappearing down the Jeffries tube. “There’s no systems alert. It will activate.”
He was gone before Titus could report that the docking latch wasn’t properly seated.
“Usually there’s a crew member on the other side to manually assist!” Titus insisted to Enor, the only one left behind with him.
“It’ll open,” Enor told him, but she was frowning as she looked at the lock.
“No, it’s stuck.” Titus jumped through the hatch, grabbing up the gravlock unit on his way in.
* * *
Moll Enor tried to stop Titus, but she didn’t move fast enough. Who would have thought he would go back?
A blue forcefield burst across the hatch. Moll leaped after Titus, running into the field, smashing her fingers against her body. The enormous latch lifted with a bone‑chilling grating. An inch of separation turned into two. Then her eyes met Titus’s, on the other side of the forcefield.
She tried to shove her hand through the field, wanting to somehow physically pull Titus through the widening gap between them. He stood up straighter, still holding his hands out to her as the saucer section pulled away.
Moll Enor hung in space, frantically tapping her comm badge and crying, “Go back, go back! He’s still on the battle bridge. Go back–”
At first it was only a body length of separation, then a room away, then so far she could no longer see him.
The saucer section was still comparatively close when the Battle bridge exploded in the distinctive pattern of a warp‑core breach. The saucer seemed to move too slowly, turning slightly, when the burst of sparks and the blue white shock wave hit them. Moll was flung against the ceiling of the Jeffries tube. She couldn’t see for her tears, dazed by the impact and the last sight of Titus, with the knowledge in his eyes that he was dead.
Moll Enor couldn’t remember how she got back to her quarters, past the crewmembers braced in the corridors. Her door was only around the corner, but an eternity away. The ship was shaking strangely, a deep rumbling through the hull, like it was running over rocks.
She just couldn’t believe that Titus had died in the explosion. There was a lifepod near the Jeffries tube–if he had gotten to it somehow . . . She did remember seeing a white spark of light leaping from the side of the battle section, or had that been the first indication of the warp‑core breach?
She crouched next to the door, watching as Veridian III loomed through her inward‑slanting windows. Fire seared off the leading edge of the saucer section, turning the room lurid with its light.
The saucer module wobbled side to side as it banked, entering the midcourse correction of phase one of the theoretical best‑case atmospheric entry. Her shocked brain was busy trying to convince herself that Titus couldn’t be dead–he must have made it to a lifepod somehow–while her impeccable memory followed the textbook landing procedure. It had only been performed in computer models because Starfleet had deemed it too costly to subject a Galaxy‑class spaceframe to a full‑up atmosphere entry test.
But now the Enterprisewas going down, testing theory in action. Moll ran over the preferred landing fields: beach sand, deep water, smooth ice or grassy plains on class‑M bodies–
As the saucer section banked the other direction, Moll stared out at a jagged green mountain with ice on top. They skimmed just over the top. She could see the ice sheets, and exactly where the tree line started.
The helm was trying to level the descent, then wham!One side of the saucer section hit the ridge, then the other side hit. Right in front of Moll’s horrified eyes, her windows slammed into the ground.
The rumbling and smashing went on forever as a spray of rocks and dirt and green matter blanketed the structural integrity field. With a final slam, Moll was thrown forward, striking her head against the bulkhead. Even as they slowed to a halt, everything went black.
Chapter Eleven
JAYME WAS LATE for her humanoid anatomy class because she’d been up all night, unsuccessfully trying to track down Moll. She hurried through the commons, even though she knew she wouldn’t hear a word of the lecture. But she was fairly sure Moll was all right. She had finally gotten hold of the Trill Symbiosis Commission and found out they hadn’t been notified about Moll Enor–and they were the ones who would hear first if a symbiont was killed.
There was still that nagging doubt in the back of her mind because she hadn’t gotten a message yet from Moll, but she could almost hear her disapproval that Jayme had missed a class on account of that. After two years of solid B’s in engineering and her struggles to get B+ or higher in the premed courses, she would still be lucky to make it into medical school. And the commendation she received after the Izad Revolution was her only ace in the hole to counter the rather unimpressive stack of reprimands she had received.
Jayme was reassuring herself about Moll when the image of Admiral Brand appeared on the public screens, halting her in midstride. She joined the swarm of cadets who crowded in close as Brand glanced down for a moment before making her announcement.
“As all of you know, during the battle and emergency saucer separation of the Enterprise, one of the crewmembers was killed.” Jayme drew her breath, seeing her own fear reflected in the anxious faces of her fellow cadets.
Admiral Brand’s expression was often considered to be severe, with her white, upswept hair and striking dark brows, but today she looked older than Jayme had ever remembered. “I’m sorry to inform you that it was one of our own cadets, Hammon Titus, who perished while performing his duty on board the Enterprise.”
A young woman nearby gasped out loud, clutching her hands to her mouth and staring at the screen. A friend took her arm, offering support, as Brand continued.
“Hammon Titus will receive posthumous field promotion to ensign, and his life and accomplishments will be celebrated in a memorial service soon after
the Enterprisecrewmembers have returned to Starfleet Headquarters.” Her lips tightened. “We never like to hear when a fellow officer has been forced to give their life in the line of duty, especially an officer as young and talented as Ensign Titus.” Brand had to pause for a moment. “We all would have liked to see the career Hammon Titus was destined to make for himself, but we shall have to be content with the time he spent as part of our family in Starfleet.”
Jayme was so stunned she couldn’t move. She had never considered that it could be Hammon Titus! All she had worried about was Moll, figuring Nev Reoh would never get near trouble and Titus could always get out of it. Titus dead . . . she couldn’t believe it!
Bobbie Ray went with Jayme to the beam‑down point at Starfleet Headquarters to wait for Moll Enor and Nev Reoh to return to Earth. Bobbie Ray had returned to the Academy early when he found out that it was Titus who had been killed. He didn’t really think about it, actually. He beamed over to the Academy before he realized he hadn’t said good‑bye to his mother. She wasn’t exactly pleased that he wouldn’t be coming back for a few days, and he got the idea she wanted to “mother” him, which would have made him hang by his claws from the ceiling in less than an hour.
Jayme wouldn’t wait for Enor to come to the Academy; she insisted on going to Starfleet at the ungodly hour Enor was scheduled to return, having already been debriefed en route.
Bobbie Ray pretended to grumble about being routed out of bed, but it really didn’t take much to get him to the beam‑down point exactly on time. And as they waited for the transporter to materialize, he was hit with a pang of remorse when only Moll Enor and Nev Reoh appeared. He was glad to see them, but it was suddenly very real, when Titus didn’t appear with the others, that he would never see Titus again.
Moll Enor saw it in his eyes, and she patted his arm with a furrowed brow. With only one glance, he could tell she was taking it very hard. Jayme was hugging Enor like she never wanted to let go, laughing and crying at the same time.
“You were with him, weren’t you?” Bobbie Ray asked her, even as Jayme was trying to tell Moll Enor how happy she was to have her back.
Enor looked at Bobbie Ray. “We were at the hatch and he thought the docking latch was jammed. He just leaped through and the forcefield snapped on before I could follow. And then . . .”
Jayme was wiping her eyes, her face crumpled as she thought about Titus, but she comforted Enor. Bobbie Ray turned away, telling the transporter operator, “I want to go back to the Academy.”
“C‑can I come with you?” Nev Reoh asked.
Bobbie Ray put one arm around the Bajoran’s shoulders, giving the smaller man a solid shake. “You know I wouldn’t leave without you.”
They left Jayme and Enor at Starfleet Headquarters so Enor could get her orders. As they materialized back at the Academy, Reoh said, “I’ve transferred back to the Academy. I’ll teach in the geophysics department. I’ve had enough of starships for a while–”
“Aaahhh!”Starsa screamed she ran into the room and saw the two of them together. She didn’t stop until she ran straight into Nev Reoh, throwing her arms around him and kissing first one cheek, then the other, over and over again. “I’m so glad you’re alive!”
Everyone in the transporter room began to chuckle, then laugh at the awkward expression on the former Vedek’s face. Even Bobbie Ray began to smile, thinking Nev Reoh deserved to have such an exuberant welcome. He should have done it himself, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Titus.
* * *
Moll liked the way Jayme kept holding her hand or stroking her arm, as if she had to reassure herself that she was really there. Moll felt bad about how long it had taken for her to get a message through to Jayme, but she had been unconscious for nearly twenty‑four hours after the crash.
Now, as she hurried to get her orders–sick leave until she was recovered from her concussion, then two weeks R&R before she had to report to Starbase 153 to join an astrophysics team on Dytallix B.
“That’s not far,” Jayme said when she saw the orders. “Only a few hours away. How long will you be there?”
“Months,” Moll Enor assured her. “Maybe a year! There’s a neutrino migration taking place in the outer hydrogen‑reaction zone to the inner helium core of the star. It’s instantaneous as far as galactic events go–and incredibly complex.”
“You’re going to love that,” Jayme said. “And I’ll love it that we’ll get to see each other all the time. I was afraid I’d lost you when we just found each other.”
“You mean, just after I gave in and finally admitted that I loved you,” Moll said, only half teasing.
Jayme ducked her head. “I know it wasn’t until the Izad Revolution, when you saw that I could accomplish something, that you started to love me.”
“That’s not true!” Moll stopped her so she could look her right in the eyes. “Engineer, doctor, you know that doesn’t matter. I loved you long before the coup.”
Jayme furrowed her brow, shaking her head uncertainly. “You never said that before.”
“No.” She walked over to the railing overlooking Paris, twisting the disc with her orders. “It was Titus who convinced me that I was pushing your love away.”
“Titus!” Jayme exclaimed. “He did nothing but torment me. He kept saying I was ‘infatuated’ or ‘in puppy‑love.’ ”
“Well, before my . . . ourtrip to Rahm‑Izad, we somehow got to talking.” Moll’s smile was sad. “He brought youup, of course. He said that anyone who continued to love me for almost three years was worth giving a chance.”
“He said that?” Jayme’s mouth stayed open.
Moll nodded. “Actually, he said you were either completely ‘off‑your‑crock’ for being so persistent–or I was encouraging you. He was right. I did love you, I always have, and I’ve been telling you that in so many ways–except openly. I was unfair to you, but I’ve hardly known what I think since I got this symbiont.”
Jayme was still shaking her head. “You knew you loved me before Rahm‑Izad? Then why did you wait until after the coup to tell me?”
Moll Enor pursed her lips, knowing she was the image of her old, standoffish self. “You know why! You were chasing after me so hard that all I could do was run!”
Jayme looked sheepish, but she suddenly started blinking and Moll remembered, too–Titus. Moll felt her throat tighten again, as it always did, as it haunted her–Titus. Her only consolation was that his life wouldn’t be forgotten, not for a long, long time.
Jayme put her arms around Moll and leaned her forehead against hers. “I wish I could thank him.”
“So do I,” Moll agreed with a sigh.
* * *
Captain Picard faced the cadets in the grand assembly hall at the Academy. “We are gathered here together to remember our comrades who have fallen in the line of duty. Ensign Hammon Titus selflessly performed his duty on board the Enterprise, and for that he gave his life.”
Nev Reoh swallowed, bending his head. He was standing to one side of the stage, summoned there by an aide to Admiral Brand, who asked him if he would mind saying a few words about Titus. Reoh agreed, of course, but he really didn’t think much about it. There were dozens who would rise to speak about the spirited cadet who had been so full of life.
Reoh kept forgetting Titus wouldn’t stride into the room with a quip and a laughing jibe to send in his direction. Reoh had liked Titus because the cadet worked hard to make sure everyone liked him, especially those he teased the most. Look at Jayme–she was torn apart by his death, yet anyone at the Academy would have said the two squabbled like they couldn’t stand each other. Like they were brother and sister . . .
“Ensign Titus is in good company.” Picard’s measured tones were somehow soothing, a somber yet fitting closure for too short a life. “Captain James T. Kirk also gave his life to save the entire Veridian system, ensuring that 230 million people are alive and well today. They don’t know whom to thank for their s
urvival, but we can remember the deeds of Captain Kirk and Ensign Titus, and we can look to their example. As . . . Jim told me, we must never stop trying to make a difference.”
On that ringing note, Reoh held his head higher, remembering how Titus wanted nothing more than to be the best Starfleet officer he could be.
“Now,” Picard added, “I would like to turn this over to one who is more spiritual than I, one who knew Ensign Titus and was a member of his first quad. He also went through the battle and crash of the Enterprise.”Picard somehow picked Reoh out of the crowd. “Ensign Nev Reoh.”
Reoh’s throat closed shut. More spiritual! He was supposed to speak after Captain Picard! No!
But the eyes of the cadets were urging him toward the stage. As he slowly made his way forward, he realized that many of the cadets knew him, more than he would have imagined. And he recognized the two people in the front row from their similarity to Titus, family members who had probably come for the memorial. How could he speak–he couldn’t even think!
Somehow he made it to the stage, where Captain Picard shook his hand, resting his other on Reoh’s shoulder. Reoh looked into his captain’s eyes, remembering in a rush the first day he had met Picard, reporting to duty on the Enterprise. It had felt as if, with one keen glance, Picard had taken his measure as a man.
Now he felt reassured by Picard’s sympathy, and by his murmured assurance, “Speak your heart.”
Reoh returned the pressure of his hand, straightening up. “Serving you was an honor, sir.”
Picard smiled, accepting Reoh’s acknowledgment.
Then he was facing the grand assembly hall, row after row of silent cadets, jammed in so tight that they were sitting in the aisles and standing along the sides and in the doorways. He knew his image appeared on every screen in the Academy, and everyone was watching because everyone knew Titus.
“We all miss Titus,” he said, his voice breaking a little. “The fact that I am standing up here today is a testament to his ability to draw people to him, to add everyone who came within his reach to his vast network of friends and allies. As far as I could tell, he only had one requirement for friendship. That you always do your best, and try your hardest to overcome your own limitations and those of others.”
