Marshall's mother couldn't hide her tears. She spent more time looking away from the monitor than at her son.

"I don't know why you have to do it," she said, her head buried in her hands.

His father, who occupied the other half of the screen hadn't spoken since the very beginning of the call. He put his arm around his wife and whispered in her ear. "He's a grown man. He can make his own decision."

Marshall leaned in close to the camera. "Mom, you have to understand. They need me." He wished he could give hug a her but that was impossible. His parents were back home on Earth and he was stationed on the Ganymede base.

"I just don't know why they can't send in pre-trained pilots. There have to be enough capable flyers on one of the bases."

Marshall shrugged and waited for his mother to dry her tears. When she looked at him, he continued his explanation. "It's not just pilots. Many of the faster ships were on the Titan base when Titan started breaking up. The first explosions destroyed much of the fleet. Most of the rest of the ships are on the Venus Orbital base. That's where most of the Ganymede pilots are; they're doing training exercises. The only available ships with any chance of reaching Titan soon enough are here on Ganymede."

"But, it's so dangerous. You know what happened to uncle." She once again covered her eyes with her hands. "There's a reason they don't use the input link system anymore."

"They've improved the technology since then," pleaded Marshall. "Uncle Randal's a hero. I've admired the Medal of Honor hanging in his room since I was a little boy. They say I've got the best reflexes of anyone on the base. I can be a hero, too. I can save those people."

"I don't want you to go. It's not worth the risk." His mother started to say more but stopped. She took a deep breath before standing and walking away, leaving only his father visible on the computer screen.

"I am proud of you," said his father. "We're both proud of you. What you are doing is very brave. It's your choice. We understand that and we will support you, whatever you decide."

"Thanks," replied Marshall. "If there's anything I can do to save those people, I have to do it. Please do your best to make Mom understand. I have to get to training now. The ships are going to be ready in an hour and we need to take off as soon as possible."

"We love you."

"I love you, too."

The eight volunteers each sat at a computer station in the base's main science lab. A pair of technicians worked with each of them.

"So, you've never flown an HS cruiser?" asked one of the techs assigned to Marshall.

"Nope. Never even been in the cockpit of one. I mostly work in the hydroponics department," replied Marshall.

"With your reflex and aptitude scores, it's too bad you didn't do traditional training," said the other tech as she placed a metallic band on Marshall's head and began attaching wires.

"My grades were never good enough. Besides, if I was trained, I'd either be orbiting Venus or trapped on Titan right now."

"I do need to ask, one more time," said the first technician, "do you understand the possible side effects of this process?"

Marshall nodded. "Yes, the process was used to train my uncle to be a pilot in the war. I am aware that what happened to him could, possibly, happen to me."

"Okay," announced the technician. "Then we'll get started. There are two stages. After the first, we will do a quick check to make sure everything is going well and then we'll finish. Once, you're done, I'll take you to your ship and you can be on your way to Titan. Are you ready?"

"Sure. Let's do this."

Without another word, the tech flipped a switch and waited ten seconds before turning the machine off.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

Marshall stared at the man for a moment, confused. "I think I'm okay."

"Where are you going after this?"

"I have a rescue mission. Titan is breaking apart. Hundreds of people are trapped and in danger."

"Excellent. What are the three leftmost readouts on an HS cruiser display board."

Without hesitation, Marshall answered, "Yaw measure, pitch measure, and thruster balance."

The technician nodded. "Very good. Let's start phase two." Again, he activated the machine for a short time.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked.

Marshall nodded.

"Do you have any questions?"

Marshall began to shake his head but stopped. "I guess I have one. Do I have a code name or something? What are they going to call me?"

"Marshall. They are going to call you Marshall."

Eight HS cruisers approached Titan at maximum speed. As they neared the Saturn moon, each ship veered off on a specific course. Marshall knew exactly where he was supposed to go. He had been given the details during the second part of his training.

His job was to land inside the air-lock of the building that used to be the base's main mining facility. This area was the epicenter of the explosions and quakes that were destroying Titan. He didn't know why the moon had begun to fall apart; that was not necessary to his mission. He did know that any survivors in the area would be found in the large building near the landing field. Hopefully, the atmospheric integrity of the building had held and there would still be people to save.

When his ship neared its destination, Marshal observed several geyser-like explosions. Sections of the moon's floor would suddenly burst open, spraying flames and smoke upward. Large chunks of rock or pieces of the concrete landing floor would be sent flying. Some of these projectiles crashed into docked ships, further damaging the vessels and adding additional explosions to the pyrotechnic display. There were no people to be seen anywhere on the dock and it appeared that none of the ships had avoided destruction. An explosion erupted directly below Marshal's ship. Alarms started sounding. Sensors picked up a large piece of debris heading directly toward the ship. Quickly, Marshal determined the path of the rubble and turned sharply. The oversized boulder barely missed the starboard wing and thruster. It took only a fraction of a second for Marshall to steady the ship and return it to its original path but even that small amount of time was costly. He was rapidly approaching the building he was supposed to land in. Its air-lock was barely larger than his locomotive-sized HS cruiser.

Realizing that at his current speed he would not be able to slow the vehicle enough for a safe entry into the building's airlock, Marshall prepared to skid the ship along the ground, hoping to slow it enough to allow him to stop without crashing through the far end of the air-lock.

Another explosion shattered what was left of a freight ship directly in front of Marshall's HS cruiser. Manipulating the controls, he spun the ship enough to avoid the pieces of rock and metal being hurled at him by the eruption.

There was no longer any room for error. He dropped the nose of his vessel and hung tight to the controls. The ship bounced on the landing pad twice before skidding to a halt inside the air-lock, mere inches from the inside wall.

Immediately, the outer doors of the airlock closed. It didn't take long for the building's atmosphere to equalize but to Marshall, it seemed like an eternity. The moment it was safe, one of the walls slid sideways, opening the airlock to the main building. A large crowd of people began moving toward Marshall's ship in a surprisingly organized manner.

Luckily, the rough landing had not damaged the cruiser's bay doors. Marshall flipped the switch and the doors opened. Titan survivors began climbing into his vessel. Most of them appeared to be mine workers from their uniforms but there were also a few children and elderly. Many of them appeared to be injured, either limping or being helped along.

Someone knocked on the cockpit door. After Marshal unlocked the door, a woman poked her head inside. "That was some amazing flying," she said.

"We aren't out of this yet," shouted Marshall. "Just get everyone inside and tell them to hold on."

The woman looked behind her. After a moment, she announced, "Okay, that's everyone. It's tight, but we're all in. Get going. I can open the air-lock door with my remote link." She disappeared back into the ship.

Marshall deftly manipulated the controls, slowly lifting the ship off the ground. Something felt strange about being at the helm of this ship, yet, at the same time, it was exactly where he needed to be. It didn't bother him that he could not remember anything about his life prior to this day. The mission was the only thing that was important and he would do whatever he could to complete it.

He turned the vessel, wincing as the starboard wing scraped the wall. The process was slow and tedious; not ideal given the fact that Titan was minutes away from breaking apart completely. Only a pilot with years of experience and amazing reflexes could hope to make all the subtle shifts and adjustments necessary to maneuver in the limited space.

Marshal only had a few more degrees to turn, when another explosion rocked the entire building. The inner air-lock wall began to crumble. A piece of ceiling bounced off the front of the HS cruiser. Without waiting for the ship to complete its turn, Marshal hit the thruster control bouncing it off the left side of the airlock door. The ship's wing screeched as it ricocheted off the doorway, spinning the vessel counterclockwise. Somehow, Marshal managed to regain control before the ship smashed into the ground or what was left of the building. It emerged from of the collapsing air-lock and climbed toward the sky.

As if Titan didn't want them to leave, another explosion sent huge chunks of rock in front of the ship. By luck or skill, Marshall managed to avoid any substantial damage, dodging a boulder and slipping between the wreckage of two mining ships. Warning lights flashed throughout the cockpit. The main fuel tank was leaking and all automated flight systems were offline.

Accelerating upward, Marshal was able to pilot the ship out of Titan's gravitation pull and into space. Miraculously, the auxiliary fuel tank was undamaged and Marshal activated it. He set off toward the safety of Ganymede, leaving Titan to continue its disintegration.

Marshall smiled when he heard the cheers from the back of the ship, but only for a moment. His mission was still not complete.

A day later, Marshall sat in the office of his assigned therapist.

"It feels weird. I can't remember anything from before I started the mission. I remember doing it and I remember how to fly the ship but that's about it."

"You don't remember anything from before that?" asked the doctor.

"Very little. I know my name is Marshal but I think somebody told me that."

"It's too bad that this had to happen," said the doctor, "but you knew it was a possibility when you volunteered." He handed Marshal a small viewing screen and Marshal watched a recording of himself accepting the mission and saying that he understood the risks and was willing to accept the consequences.

"You did well. You saved more than fifty innocent lives. You're a hero," added the doctor, "You're going to continue to be an excellent pilot."

"Will I ever get my memory back?"

The therapist shrugged. "Maybe parts of it. Most of your memories will have to be relearned. We're compiling as many videos and gathering as much memorabilia from your life as we can. We'll begin rehabilitation as soon as possible."

"It's very strange. I know that I had a life before all this. I understand that when the flight knowledge was installed in me, other things were pushed aside, I just don't know what those things were."

"You said you remembered 'very little' does that mean you remember something?"

"Well," replied Marshal. "When they gave me the Medal of Honor this morning, I had the feeling there was something familiar about it."

"We will do everything we can to help you. The real question is whether or not you feel that what you accomplished was worth the price?"

Marshal thought for a moment. "I think so. I saved people's lives and now I'm a pilot. All I had to do was give up thoughts that I don't even remember ever having."

"There are a couple of people who would like to see you. I think now would be a good time." The doctor stood and walked to the door where he pushed a button.

The door opened and a middle-aged man and woman walked into the room. The man stood back, staring. The woman moved right to Marshall and gave him a long hug. When she, finally, released him, she wiped tears from her eyes and smiled.

"If it's all right with you, we'd like to have dinner with you when you finish here. There is so much we want to tell you."

Marshall shrugged. "Sure. That sounds nice. You're my parents, aren't you?"

"Yes," said the woman. "We are so proud of you." She glanced at the doctor who gave a quick nod.

The older man, Marshal's father stepped forward and put his hand on the woman's elbow. "We'll be waiting outside. It's so good to see you."

The couple turned and walked out of the room, though the man did smile and give a thumbs-up gesture before leaving.

Once they were gone, Marshall turned to the therapist. "They seem nice."

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