The ensign blinked several times, apparently confused by his terminology. “You’re talking about breast-feeding.”

“Of course,” Ree said, dipping his head forward rapidly and repeatedly in what he had learned was an affirmative gesture. “It’s really the best thing for him, nutritionally and emotionally. I would greatly appreciate being permitted to observe, once you begin—I am contemplating writing a paper on the practice for one of the medical journals on my homeworld.”

Her response took a moment to arrive, but sounded cheerful enough when it finally did. “Oh. Good. Great. Well, we can discuss that later.”

Ree chuckled in appreciation. “I would be particularly interested in witnessing your mammalian feeding behaviors once the little carnivore’s teeth begin coming in.”

As he spoke, Ree took a medical tricorder from its place on a nearby shelf and scanned the child more thoroughly than the incubator’s sensors could manage. The readings scrolled down the screen, but he had to refresh it and read them again; his eyes were becoming dry and tired.

“I’ve confirmed that his biosigns are strong indeed,” Ree said. “With the exception of size and weight variances attributable to his premature birth. Totyarguil seems to be responding well to the lung- and skin-tissue stimulation treatments Dr. Onnta has been administering.”

Olivia’s face beamed with happiness. “Thank you, Doctor. Axel will be relieved to hear that as well.”

Ree pointed one of his long, clawed fingers over to the sleeping conn officer. He regarded the man’s blissfully closed eyes with a faint sense of envy. “I suggest you let him rest now and give him the good news later.”

He turned to leave, and then turned back. “Dr. Onnta will be in to check in on you in a few hours. I must go get some rest of my own.” After paying my respects to Commander Ledrah.

As Olivia waved to him quietly, Ree turned again to leave. He fully intended to sleep soon, but first he had to get some food. He wasn’t entirely joking when he had told Captain Riker recently that the sight of small mammals tended to make him hungry. In another context, on his home planet, a warm-blooded creature about the size of Totyarguil Bolaji would have made for a nice predormancy interval snack.

It’s probably best that I keep that to myself, though,Ree thought, wishing his patients well, and dreading the sad ceremony that was to come.

Every detail must be perfect.

K’chak’!’op turned her head segment upside down, and used one of the six tentacles that protruded from the right side of her head to tap the instrument panel. They left a slightly moist smudge behind on the display.

The holodeck shimmered into life, and a placid scene from the world of Tiburon took form. Nidani Ledrah had hailed from the north quadrant, a land that was in a perpetual twilight for half the Tiburoni year due to the planet’s extreme axial tilt. According to K’chak’!’op’s research, the area was largely devoid of modern technology and large cities; its tribes lived in small, independent settlements. The native Tiburon did not mix with the Suliban settlers or the Vanoben, who had arrived more recently.

K’chak’!’op clicked her mouth pincers together several times, vocally reminding herself that the caves nearby would have featured rust-colored rocks, not the dusty orange ones that she had just programmed. Her tentacles moved fluidly as she altered the scene.

Her four eyes swiveled independently, looking for other flaws. Some of the others had offered to help her to program the tableau—much about Tiburon was missing from the main computer’s files—but Melora Pazlar was otherwise occupied at present and K’chak’!’op didn’t trust the male engineers. She understood that most alien species had evolved differently than the Pak’shree, but some prejudices were hard to let go.

Pak’shree were born neuter, became male at puberty, and transitioned to female at full maturity. Males were only concerned with fighting for the right to reproduction with the older, fertile adult females. K’chak’!’op had always struggled to take males of any species seriously and to trust their abilities; she would never admit it to anyone, but even Captain Riker worried her at times.

K’chak’!’op moved down the knoll, feeling the gray, featherlike grass brushing pleasurably against her six legs. She had enough time to take in the beauty of her program before the others arrived. Once they did, she would retreat to one of the caves. She would rather have stayed in her nest, away from the rest of the crew—most of whom seemed small and awkward to her—but the captain had requested that everyone who wasn’t on shift attend.

Besides, Ledrah was one of the few people aboard Titanthat K’chak’!’op had actually cared for. And now she was gone, too.

In the last minutes before the others arrived, K’chak’!’op began to stridulate her mouthparts and wave her tentacles, lifting her front segment up vertically until it had nearly reached its full three-meter length.

Then, she sang a song of loss to her departed friend.

Riker cleared his throat and stepped to the dais, which was flanked by Admiral Akaar and Commander Tuvok, both looking appropriately somber and dignified in their dress uniforms. Riker felt the cool wind moving through his own dress jacket, though the goose bumps on his skin weren’t the result of the ambient temperature.

Assembled in front of him before the pristine backdrop of a Tiburonian hillside was the majority of the crew of Titan.Only about a hundred were working on ship repairs, maintenance, systems monitoring, or other tasks. The other two-hundred and fifty or so had gathered here.

It was an awesome sight, regardless of the reason it had come to be. Here, all at once, he could see the wide array of people and species that he commanded. Although bipedal humanoids comprised a significant proportion of his crew, the number and variegation of nonhumans was high, especially among the science and technical officers.

Dr. Cethente stood next to Cadet Orilly Malar, the Irriol exobiologist. Cethente reminded Riker of a tall, delicate tribal carving he had seen during his childhood in Valdez, the Syrath astrophysicist’s spindly, arachnid legs seeming absurdly fragile, while the quadrupedal Malar was solid-looking and armored. Next to them were Dr. Bralik, the Ferengi geologist, and Kekil, the Chelon biologist. Nearby stood Dr. Ree and Dr. Ra-Havreii; the former was as stock-still as an exhibit in a natural-history museum, while the latter, eyes downcast, seemed unaware of the swelling crowd behind him.

Riker scanned further and saw so many others with so much diversity reflected in their bodies, their experiences, and their personalities. Whether Skorr or Vulcan, Cardassian or human, Arkenite or S’ti’ach, each of them brought something utterly unique to Titan.

“We are gathered here today to honor our friend and comrade, Lieutenant Commander Nidani Ostiquin Ledrah,” Riker said, projecting his deep voice toward the back of the room. He knew he was echoing the words that Captain Picard had said at Tasha Yar’s memorial service so long ago; the words that countless captains had likely said in countless services across countless years.

“The landscape around you reflects the home of Nidani, where she was born thirty-two years ago. Most from her tribe were antitechnological, preferring instead to live a simpler life, relying upon the land. But Nidani had different dreams. She wanted to explore the skies above her.

“She eventually enrolled at Starfleet Academy and achieved her dream. Graduating with honors, she accepted a post as an engineer on the U.S.S. Zapata,where she was stationed for five years. Assignments to the U.S.S. Hathawayand the Lakotafollowed, before she requested to join the crew of Titan.She told me once she’d fallen in love with the Luna-class design, and adored the idea of a crew as varied as ours.”