HISTORIAN’S NOTE
This tale’s prologue begins in the latter half of February, 2381 (over a week before the epilogue of Star Trek Destiny, Book III: Lost Souls), and concludes at the end of April (about two weeks before the end of Star Trek: A Singular Destiny).
The rest of Over a Torrent Seaunfolds between July 1 and August 4 of the same year.
I am the daughter of earth and water,
And the nursling of the sky;
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;
I change, but I cannot die.
For after the rain when with never a stain,
The pavilion of heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams
Build up the blue dome of air,
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,
And out of the caverns of rain,
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,
I arise and unbuild it again.
—Percy Bysshe Shelley, “The Cloud”
PROLOGUE
We will not shrink from the challenge of raising back up what the Borg have knocked down. We will honor the sacrifices of all those who fought and died to defend us, by committing ourselves to repairing the damage that’s been done and creating a future that they would have been proud of.
…More important, though Starfleet is needed for the recovery and reconstruction and to render aid, we will renew our commitment to its mission of peaceful exploration, diplomatic outreach, and open scientific inquiry. TheLuna- class starships will continue—and, in theTitan ’s case, resume—their missions far beyond our borders: seeking out new worlds, new civilizations, and new lifeforms and offering, to those that are ready, our hand in friendship.
There are those who might doubt our ability to do all these things at once. To them I would say, don’t underestimate the United Federation of Planets.
—President Nanietta Bacco,
Stardate 58126.3 (February 16, 2381)
UTOPIA PLANITIA ORBITAL SHIPYARDS, MARS
Captain William T. Riker did not underestimate the United Federation of Planets. After the decisive victory it had achieved over the Borg Collective the week before, Riker wasn’t about to put anything past the Federation at this point—even if he, as one of the people directly responsible for that victory, did say so himself. But just because he believed something couldbe done didn’t necessarily mean he agreed it was the best option.
“The Federation needs every able-bodied person it can get right now,” Riker argued as he paced in front of Admiral Masc’s desk. “I want to be part of that effort, Admiral. And so does my crew.”
“I understand, Will. Believe me.” The elderly admiral folded his hands, his normal Denobulan cheer subdued by recent events. This was a man who had carried heavy burdens before, including his failed effort to prevent Betazed from falling to the Dominion, without losing his customary aplomb. He had remained an optimist despite everything, spearheading Starfleet’s ambitious Luna-class program as a symbol of the Federation’s commitment to diversity and peaceful exploration. But the devastation the Borg had inflicted over the past month and a half—including the complete obliteration of Deneva, Regulus, and other major worlds and massive destruction across the faces of Vulcan, Andor, and Tellar—would take the rest of his career, if not his life, for the Federation to recover from. “But the decision is made. Do you want President Bacco to back down from her promise?”
“She doesn’t have to, sir,” Riker said. “There are still ten other Luna-class ships out there. They can continue the mission without us.”
“The president mentioned Titanby name.”
“So this is politics?” Riker stopped pacing and leaned over the desk. “Admiral, you’re going to have to give me a better reason than that. Something I can take to my crew, that will convince them. Otherwise you’re going to be looking at a lot of transfer requests. Maybe including mine.”
Masc examined Riker patiently. He may not have been as cheerful as usual, but he wasn’t prone to anger. “I would have thought you’d be glad to get back to exploring. I remember Admiral Akaar telling me how unhappy you and your crew were when your Gum Nebula survey was postponed for the Romulan diplomatic mission.”
“I don’t have to tell you how different the situation is now, sir. I’m still an explorer. But I’m also a patriot.”
Masc finally smiled. “Will, you and your colleagues have already done the Federation a service we can never repay you enough for. Think of this as your reward.”
“I don’t want a reward, sir. With all due respect. I want—my crew wants—to be useful.”
“And you will be.” Masc rose from his desk and turned to the window, the ruddy glow of the Martian surface reflecting off his bald, textured pate, highlighted by the multi-colored lights of the orbital shipyard complex surrounding them, where Titanherself was currently undergoing repairs after its confrontations with the Borg. “We’ve been through so much this past decade,” Masc went on. “After the Dominion War, we thought we’d weathered the worst crisis our civilization would ever face…and then, just a few years later, the Borg come roaring in and make the Dominion seem like the warm-up act. We’re wounded, Will. Not just physically, but in our hearts and souls. The people of the Federation need hope. They need inspiration. The president knew that—it’s why she mentioned your ship in her speech. Titanhelped save the Federation. It’s the most famous, most admired ship in the Lunafleet. That’s why we need you out there at the vanguard. To give the people something they can feel positive about. To show them we’re not giving up who we are.”