Taking Wing - Michael A. Martin [21]
“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 whether 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