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Star Trek: Season 10

Started by Jen, June 26, 2009, 08:48:44 AM

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The hum of the turbolift grew steadily quieter as it slowed, eventually coming to a stop at the shuttlebay deck.  The door hushed open, and K'Tan and his good friend D'Callen headed towards the bay at a brisk pace.  

K'Tan was thrilled at the prospect of venturing onto a Romulan ship.  Even though relations between the Federation and the Romulans had thawed since the Dominion War, there still existed considerable tension and distrust between the two superpowers.  With the current mission, the crew of the Arabella had become the embodiment of one of the Fleet's guiding principles, truly going into territory where no Federation officers had gone before.

But K'Tan's excitement was tempered by the underlying reason for the 7th Fleet's mission.  The Hobus super-nova had washed through the system like a wave of death, scouring the system of all but a relative relative handful of survivors.  In the blink of an eye, the Romulans had become an endangered species.  It was a fate he couldn't imagine wishing on anyone.  

As the pair entered the cavernous shuttle bay, K'Tan spied their craft being attended by a small gathering of orange-clad support crew.  In the next instant, he caught sight of a flash of blond hair and spots, and nearly stopped in his tracks.  

Noticing the put-out expression on K'Tan's face, D'Callen broke out into a mischievous grin and gently elbowed him in the ribs.  "Hey mate, looks like your good friend CMO Drett will be joining us on the trip."

K'Tan's scowl deepened.  "So it would seem," he answered dryly.  "It must be my lucky day."


Casey was a little restless as it would be a few days before he would take command of the Gamma shift. He had a sense of uneasiness which he could not seem to shake. It was like a shaken bottle of champagne in which the cork was about to pop.

Casey tried unsuccessfully to to put this feeling behind him and found himself unconsciously stroking his rabbit foot for goodluck. He had read the personnel reports of the crew that he would oversee on his shift until he knew their records inside and out before deciding to go to sickbay to visit his wife and introduce himself to Dr. Drett

He got up from the couch in his quarters and  ordered the computer to replicate one red rose which he would take to his wife in sickbay.Case picked up the rose and headed down the corridor to the turbo lift which would take him to deck 5 and sickbay.


"Doctor." Ryla turned from her conversation to see Ensign Daelen approaching her. The ensign's steal gray eyes were piercing, and her stare seemed to contradict the warm smile she offered the chief medical officer. If Ryla had not met her before, and determined her to be a friendly individual, the look would have given her the impression that the young woman disliked her. Despite their bright coloring, her beautiful eyes were distinctly Romulan or maybe it was simply her facial expression— Doctor Drett wasn't quite sure. Yet every crewman had been required to undergo a physical exam before Arabella's departure, and Ryla was the attending physician during Shelby's visit. The Trill liked Ensign Daelen's sense of humor and they shared a number laughs during the brief time Shelby was in Sickbay. Ryla was certain the smile she offered now, was genuine.

The smaller woman returned the greeting with a smile of her own, which was always framed by dimples, "Hello, Ensign." Before they could further the conversation, Ryla's attention was stolen away by the newcomers who had halted their procession toward the runabout. The taller of the two men was staring at her, but it wasn't the chief of security that mirrored Drett's new expression of displeasure. The chief of operations, Lieutenant Commander K'Tan, had obviously been shoved off balance by her presence.

The source of their contention occurred almost a decade before and neither of them had moved past the incident, though it wasn't for lack of trying on Ryla's part. Well... she had tried once and though he claimed to have accepted her apology, it was obvious he still begrudged her. If there was one thing the Trill learned from their first meeting, it was never to try Ferengi tube grubs before viewing a holo of the presenter's girlfriend. The impression she made was not a good one and his reaction wasn't either. The confrontation resulted in a number of choice words and a few subsequent encounters that also ended in disaster; the latest occurred before the Arabella left port. She had tried to push him off on Myella, but Doctor Peterson had made arrangements to spend the evening with her husband, leaving Ryla to take the patient she dreaded seeing.

The tension was palpable during the physical and she may or may not have handled him a little roughly as a result. Okay...so she jabbed him unnecessarily with the hypo when he grumbled a slight...at the time she felt he deserved it. Truth be told, she enjoyed torturing him though she wasn't exactly sure why. Ryla was anything but a cross person and she made friends easily. K'Tan was the only exception to her rule. Perhaps it was his rugged Klingon upbringing. He was a human and at one time she wondered if his childhood had contributed to his socially dysfunctional manner. But since then, she had observed him from afar and decided that his 'dysfunction' was only tied to her.

As the two officers advanced once again, the doctor reminded herself to maintain a professional air. You're the chief medical officer of the Seventh Fleet's flagship...mind your manners, she told herself. With cool self-possession, her gaze swept over K'Tan's handsome face, "Good morning."
Founding co-host of the Anomaly Podcast


K'Tan acknowledged the Doctor's greeting with a perfunctory nod.

For the life of him, K'Tan couldn't figure out why the Trill CMO aroused such conflicting emotions in him.  She was without a doubt highly competent in her field, a trait he always admired and respected.  And he had to admit; he couldn't help but find the intricate pattern of spots that followed the curve of her neck up to her delicate ears alluring. And the occasional flash of aggression that lit her eyes never failed to quicken his pulse.  So much like K'Lara, he mused, recalling his long lost love.  And as he made the mental comparison, a part of him felt as though he were betraying K'Lara's memory. Perhaps my response to Drett is fuled by feelings of guilt, he thought in a rare moment of introspection. 

Bah; that's nonsense, he amended.  The Doctor is rude and aloof; that's more than enough reason to keep her at a distance.

He absently rubbed his right bicep, remembering the pain of the Doctor's unusually rough application of her hypospray.  "Good Morning.  Done any hypospray torture lately?" he asked, and immediately regretted it.

Shelby D

After greeting the Doctor, Shelby walked past the woman, heading directly to the security station. The half-Romulan began checking the sensor calibrations and ensuring that everything that was needed for this mission, as far as intel, from the Arabella's computer had been transferred to the shuttle.

Her back was to anyone new entering the craft; although she did hear some voices she was completely wrapped up in her work. Her fingers flew across the console as she made a few subtle adjustments. Reaching for her tricorder the young ensign checked her work and she found it to be satisfactory.

As she sat there a voice which she had not heard in a long time filled the shuttle, K'Tan. He had been one of her hand-to-hand teachers from the Academy and although they hadn't had many exchanges outside of class she respected the man.  On the verge of saying something to him, she found herself overhearing a snippet of the conversation between Drett and K'Tan; she went silent.

She had learned long ago, although she had not always practiced it, that there were certain situations which had 'vibes' that one picked up and it was best to wait and see before stepping in; This appeared to be one of those times.


A dangerous look flashed in Ryla's hazel-brown eyes, yet she managed to keep an otherwise composed expression. Before another word could be uttered between the Trill and Terran, the first officer entered the shuttle bay. The doctor fired a smile at K'Tan that was less amiable than it was mischievous and turned a softened look to Joseph D'Callan and Aeric James to greet them in turn.

Captain Sevryll's outwardly placid expression was fixed on the view screen on the Romulan ship the Runabout would soon be docking with.  It wouldn't be long before the small craft would be swallowed by the void of space, as it slipped into the cloaked section of the disabled ship. Regardless of her emotionless appearance, the Vulcan always felt a twinge of anxiety when her husband lead missions such as these. It was the one reason she had very nearly chosen another officer as her second in command. Though her feelings did not sink to the depths of her psyche as it did in most of her kind, emotion was not something she generally had trouble suppressing.  It was pushed just below the surface and on occasion rose to animate her dark eyes, which were set on an inversely dispassionate face.  

Her decision to name Aeric as her first officer came after much thought and many discussions between she and the El-Aurian Commander. He had always been confident that the two of them had more to offer Starfleet as a team than they did otherwise, and his point had been proven on several occasions in the past. She had no doubt that she could trust in his abilities to command or in her own ability to send him into danger. It was only the deep seeded fear of loss that challenged her emotional suppression now. The loss of her home world occurred sixty-seven years before her birth, but she still experienced the ghost pain through her parents. This coupled with the death of her first child, an infant son who died two decades before, during Wolf 359, was the root of her internal struggle. Yet aside from the day her son died, it had been a battle she always won.

She slowly turned her expressive gaze to the chief science officer, "status Mr. Zremm?"
Founding co-host of the Anomaly Podcast


Margon checked the status of the away team.  It would be some time before they arrived back with the first of the refugees.  He stepped into the turbolift.  Speaking into the air he said "Main bridge"
The familiar whir of the turbo lift sounded and the counselor took a deep breath.  He loved his job, but the stress of having a 12 year old living with him was unexpectedly trying.   He found it hard to concentrate on his counseling job.  How could he care so much about this young man, and at the same time feel in constant conflict with him?  

Margon was pondering these thoughts and more when he realized that the turbo lift door had been open for some time.  The bridge officers were staring at him and he came to his senses.  Walking onto the bridge he made his way down to a seat next to the Captain.  
She acknowledged him.

"Good morning Captain." He said with a smile.  "Thought I would check in with you and the bridge crew before our visitors arrived"

Captain Sevryll responded kindly but calm, "Thank you counselor, I believe we are prepared to deal with this situation"  

"Yes, I do too, but I don't need to tell you that the tension is high with everyone.  This has to be hard for many"

Sevyrll looked at him in an assuring way and seemed to connect with Margon.  "I'm fine counselor," she said.  

"I wasn't implying that you weren't" he said musingly.  

He knew full well the feelings she was trying to suppress.  This was a big test for her with Aeric  leading the away team.  He knew full well that he would never get her to talk about it on the bridge.  Perhaps someday in her ready room she would open up, but that would be sometime down the road.  Counselors and Vulcans didn't mix well, except in this situation.  Margon loved children and so did Sevryll.  They connected on a family level and that was sure to be helpful.  Even though she could suppress emotions, she wasn't immune to the stress of them.

I have been and always will be, your friend.
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Sitting at the Conn, Galdar watched idly as the icons representing the remainder of the fleet moved about his navigation display. With the self correcting intercept solution in place, there was little for him to be doing here and now. In another time and place it would probably have been him flying the runabout to the Romulan vessel but following the loss of Tiberius, his career had taken a different path.

Flying shuttles out of Starbase 416 had proven less than interesting and so he'd turned his attention to flying larger craft. First the Sabre class Luxembourg and now the Intrepid class Arabella. Overall he was pleased to sit where he did but on odd days...like today...a small part of him missed the benefits of a small ship posting.

Running his eye across his curved array of displays again, something caught his interest. A reading spiked on an unusual frequency that may have meant nothing but could also have a significance beyond it's size.

With everyone else concentrating on things beyond the shield boundary, looking for hostiles or more strays, Galdar had focused his attention on the damaged ship before them. Nothing unusual had snagged his interest so far but this brief spike deserved a little investigation.

Not wishing to disturb the science officer, currently in conversation with the captain, he turned instead to the ensign at the starboard engineering station and waved him over to his position.

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((Joint post with Meds))

"Grozit, grozit, GROZIT!" Ensign Darius Shane cursed to himself.

The Arabella was sending a bloody Away Team to a crippled Romulan freighter to retrieve people of high political significance, and whom were a victim of a bloody coup!

This was EXACTLY his freaking area of bloody expertise! And where was he in this emergency? What vital task was he assigned?  He was bloody well in the bloody damn Brig in the middle of a level three diagnostic.

In fact, if this got any bloodier, it was gonna bleed to death!

Ok, enough self pitty. Officer's initiative time, Darius thought to himself. Assuming D'Callan, Dunn and Daleen (for Pete's sake!) were more than sufficient for the task over there, he was damn well going to be sure THIS side was ready for the possible hell that would be riding in with the first shuttle load of Rommies.

Dropping his tools into the carry pod, he rose from a kneeling position and fell into field op mode.  He gestured at the few other security officers present. "Come on guys, you're all volunteers."

"Um Ensign," said one...Chang, Darius vaguely remembered, but he could be wrong. "We're supposed to be certifying the Brig containment systems..."

"Look, Chang," Darius retorted. "Right now, the Boss AND Dunn are on their way over to the Romulan ship, and assuming they aren't walking into a bear trap, they're going to be dropping about 50 potential security risks right into our laps in less than thirty minutes. So, what say we at least make sure those risks are minimized, all right?"

"But..." the man began.

"Look!" Darius interrupted, "I promise on my Mommy's grave that I will PERSONALLY stand on the neck of ANYONE who would be put in the brig until we get it up and running, AFTER we secure the bloody circus that will be waiting for us in the shuttle bays! Move!"

Darius pulled the rest of the crew along behind him.

"But my name's not Chang..." the last man in the section protested lamely.

Darius didn't hear him as he jabbed his comm badge. "Shane to D'Callan..."

D'Callan sat in the shuttle and looked over to his security team as Darius called him, he tapped his com badge in reply "Go ahead Shane"

Darius continued to walk as he talked to his Chief, "Boss I'm arranging security staff to be situated around the ship in important areas"

"Very good Ensign, have at least three officers ready in the shuttle bay and at least two on each access point around the entrance, but and I can't stress this enough be subtle about it, lets not look like we are expecting trouble. Any hint of trouble no matter how small contact the Captain immediately. Its in your hands Darius."

Darius smiled and he turned round to look at the security staff behind him, just as he was about to speak D'Callan came back on "Oh and Darius, have Chang as your number two, D'Callan out."

"I'm not Chang!" came a voice from behind the group, the last man from the Brig was catching up.

"Great, who are you?" Darius asked.

"Collins! THAT'S Chang," the man responded pointing.

"Right, sorry you two. Collins, beta shift should be coming on in an hour or so anyway, go roust `em. Chang, who are the biggest headbangers we got?"

Chang considered. "Actually, K'Tan and you."

Darius gave him a withering glare. "All right, go get the NEXT two, whoever they are, and post them at the entrance to the Security office. Then, you and Collins take up post at Main Engineering.  You see any Romulans who AREN'T escorted by Starfleet personnel, shoot first and apologize later."

"But, D'Callan said..." Chang protested.

"I heard him. Believe me, if this goes sour, you'll have more options from there than you will in some hallway. Go."

"On it!" he called as he sprinted down the hall with Collins in tow.

"Ok, rest of you guys, we do it just like the Boss said. Kidd gloves on. No glaring, no threatening postures, etc... but don't take a stunner in the name of diplomacy. You see a hostile act, shoot to ki...stun. We can always revive them later, I guess."

The Security team moved out.



As K'Tan thought about the awkward discussion with Drett, he glanced over at Ensign Daelen.  He had no doubt about the security officer's capability, he'd seen plenty of examples of her martial prowess during his brief time at the academy.  But he couldn't help but wonder how she was handling the situation.

Even though she didn't appear to have close ties to the Romulan side of her family, it had to be wrenching to see the once proud Empire reduced to ashes. 'She's a trained professional,' he thought. Hopefully, she'll be able to keep her emotions from affecting her judgment.

As he took his seat, K'Tan thought back on the moment when he learned that the cadet from his past would be a part of the Arabella's crew.  The night had started innocently enough; just a meeting for drinks with his old friend Joe D'Callan.

The Security Chief had been regaling him with a story about the new 'Romulan Prodigy' that had joined his staff....

"...Can you believe it, a knife, straight out of the blue", D'Callan said.

K'tan looked at Joseph. "And you didn't see it?"

Joe put his glass down, and replied "I knew she was up to something, but she was quick. Darn quick with the blade."

K'tan laughed. "You've always been a bit slow on the sly knife technique." Raising his hand to the barman Joseph waved his finger over the two empty glasses.

D'Callan lifted a curious brow. "You can talk, I had you over on your backside with that staff move"

"I taught you that," laughed K'tan

"And I'm better than you now!" D'Callan countered. The two men laughed and clunked glasses.

"Perhaps," K'Tan said.  "But that's only because I prefer to devote my time to the study of the Bat'leth. It is a much more elegant weapon, with a rich history."

The door of the Afterburner opened and for a moment it seemed that no one was there at all. Then the lithe, sinewy figure of the security ensign walked in, her eyes studying everything. Sometimes she hated being so 'on' all the time. She wore a comfortable black v-tunic and a pair of casual pants and boots. Shelby had opted to leave her silky, locks of midnight down in errant curls.

Finding a place off of the beaten path she sat and allowed the atmosphere to soaked into her consciousness. Then she took in the patrons there, studying things of interest. When she was finished drinking in the sights her eyes circled back to the pair at the bar that interested her the most. There together stood her security chief, who never tired of pointing out her mistakes and a man whom she hadn't seen in years; K'Tan of the house of Gal.

Something which the young ensign had done on the sly while attending the academy was to learn to lip read. A useful skill at times. Taking a break from her observations the waiter took the dark haired woman's order for a blood wine. Upon the man's return with her drink, Shelby drank some of the potent brew then she leaned forward, while continuing to watch the room at random intervals.

Unaware of their 'watcher', Joseph looked over at K'tan.  "Part Romulan mate. She's good, and dare I say it, pretty damn good looking."

K'tan leaned on his elbow "When I was at the academy, I knew a half Romulan as well. She was quite the enigma; all fire and burning ambition, but hidden beneath a cool, almost Vulcan demeanor."  K'Tan gave a lecherous grin.  "And she could fill out a training uniform quite admirably."

"Am I sensing that you had some attraction for the young cadet?"  Stringing his words out a little D'Callan smirked.

"She was a fine looking woman, no doubt.  Just not the type of girl I'd normally go for."

"You mean she was pretty and didn't have ridges as a forehead" chuckled the security chief.

K'Tan slammed his mug on the counter, spilling half of his beer.  The two men glared at each other for a moment, then shouted "K'Plah!!!" as they burst into laughter.

After watching the pair for a time Daelen finished off her Klingon blood wine and she meandered her way a path to the bar.

Turning round Joseph saw Shelby walking towards them, "Aye up here she comes"

K'tan turned round still laughing and lifting his glass to his lips when his eye met hers.  His mouth dropped open and the glass slid from his hands, shattering on D'Callans boot.

Leaning between the pair Daelen smiled at them knowingly. "Boys..." Even though she knew they were both older than she was it was part of the game to play and she wasn't about to stop.


Ensign Hermaralto, or Herm, as everyone called him, was on a mad dash to the shuttle bay. He'd have been there sooner, but he was so excited to hear that contact had been made with a Romulan ship that he ignored the part of the ship-wide message that said they were being shuttled and not transported. So he was coming to the shuttle bay by way of the transporter room.

He skidded to a stop at the shuttle bay desk, crashing into it. The Ensign security officer behind the desk shot him an irritated look.

"Ensign Dunn, isn't it? How long before they're here? How many wounded? What can I do to help?"

Herm was nearly jumping up and down with excitement.
When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained. - Mark Twain


As Lieutenant Commander Zremm finished giving his latest long range sensor report to his Captain, he still sensed she was troubled.  "I still have not been able to detect any other vessels in the area, Captain.  Even after transferring additional power to the long range sensors and modulating the main deflector dish - still nothing, sir."  Zreem said with his usual efficient tone.

"Thank you Mr. Zremm.  Did you try scanning for singularity tachyon emissions?  A cloaked Warbird would still give off such a trail."  Sevryll said, trying to keep the concern for her husband out of her voice and tone.

"That was one of the first things I checked, Captain.  You know I am quite aware of that.  If I might say, you seem ill at ease.  Commander James and his team know what they're doing.  Trust in his judgment and their skill."  Zremm said to his Vulcan friend.  Coming from another, Sevryll  would have found the comments out of line - even too familiar.  But this was her friend and she allowed Zremm a certain amount of latitude not given to many aboard her ship.

"I do trust the Commander and his team.  It's the Romulans I am wary of.  But, I appreciate your reassurance.  Carry on, Mr. Zremm."  The captain said as Zremm returned to his science station.  His mind wandered to the times he and Sevryll had come in contact over the years.  Even though she was Vulcan and he Andorian, a friendship had formed that defied the history of their two cultures.  A couple hundred years back, Vulcans and Andorians had been very distrustful of each other and had nearly gone to war on more than one occasion.  If not for the founding of the Federation, that might have come to pass.  And with Vulcan's a much diminished culture after the loss of their homeworld it was unclear what damage such a conflict would have caused.  Zremm for one was happy that never had happened.  Even though he found trust a difficult thing to give, there was one person aboard that he trusted with his life.  The ironic thing was most of his species would have found that person to be the last one they would trust.   


As the deck crew finished prepping the runabout Presidio for launch, K'Tan settled in next to the pilot's seat and activated his PADD.  Within moments, the Chief of Ops established a link with the Arabella's main computer and downloaded everything he could find regarding Romulan starship specifications and power systems.  Unfortunately, due to the decades-long cold war between the Romulan Star Empire and the Federation, there seemed to be a relative paucity  of information available. 

After a quick search, K'Tan pulled up the specs on the disabled Romulan ship:

Drenet-Class warp transport; crew complement of 80.  Minimal weaponry, powered by an artificial quantum-singularity drive. 

K'Tan scrolled down the rest of the information on his PADD; mostly conjectural data regarding possible deck configuration. With the tap of a finger, he forwarded the information to the rest of the away team, then turned to address them.  "I've transfered what little intelligence we have on the disabled vessel to your Personal Access Display Devices." 

He broke into a half-smile.  "There's not much to go on, but look on the bright side.  This will be a great opportunity for us to update the Fleet's intel." 


She lay on the hard bunk, the tattered mattress provided very little in the way of comfort. She stared up at the unoccupied bed above, her eye's tracing the lines of the metal mesh supports. Repair crews continued to move through te cargo hold in an effort to fix damaged systems while two security officers stood off to on side to ensure calm amongst the refugees. The dingy and cramped cargo hold of the transport ship had been there home since....

Nalah still couldn't feel any sense of lose at the destruction of Romulus. I an instant, her home, her family, her culture and been wiped away. But her shame remained. So many of the people whom she had wished death upon all her life and been killed in that moment. The High Command that had branded her father a traitor to he Empire, the Senate which had stripped her family of their titles and holdings, and the myriad of faces which looked upon her with scorn for as long as she could remember. All gone now and yet her pain and her anger remained. The surviving Senators in the more luxurious decks above were a constant reminder and she would never forget.

She swung her feet off the bunk and sat up. Her fellow refugees milled about with worried expressions on their faces. "Veruul's," she said to herself contemptuously. They still clung to the desperate hope that the Empire would endure, provide for them, and return to glory. To Nalah, they were already dead. She walked the length of the hold and moved closer to where the security officers stood. They were having a conversation and Nalah moved close enough t pick out a few words.
"....lloann'mhrahel," one of them sneered.
It struck her like a thunderclap. Human's! Starfleet! The Federation was here. Her hands balled into fists and she felt her rage burn. Of all the parties which had wrought the downfall of her family, the Federation had been beyond her reach and desire for vengeance. It had been the Federation which had tricked her father into his betrayal. Somehow their Strafleet had convinced her father to turn on his Empire....and on her.

Nalah's hate settled deeper into her heart.


Joint post by Jen, Just X, Crystal, Hawkeyemeds and Wraith1701. 1 of 4.

As the runabout lifted from the deck, the officers' focus settled on the task ahead.

"Presidio, you are clear for departure...good luck," said the Flight Control Officer in a clipped accent, of an origin none of them could quickly place.  

"Thank you, Ensign," replied Aeric as he piloted the ship through the force field. The Presidio comfortably seated four officers in the forward section. It could transport thirty-six individuals in the aft, where Doctor Drett now sat with her med kit resting on her lap.

Ryla leaned slightly to her left and peered out the small view-port as the runabout moved gracefully over the dorsal portion of its mother ship. Banking, the craft then passed the starboard nacelle, which momentarily cast the runabout's interior in a soft blue light. Her view was limited to the shrinking Arabella as they edged closer to their ultimate destination. She soon noted the front of the saucer section and knew the bridge crew was watching them as well.

Sitting next to Aeric James, K'Tan craned his neck to catch a glimpse of the Arabella before it receded into the background.  As the Presidio passed over the ship's primary hull, he watched the runabout's distant shadow racing over the saucer, temporarily obscuring the registry number adorning her gull-gray plating.  He closed his eyes, imagining how the sight must look to the bridge crew.

The Presidio, in K'Tan's mind, one of the finest mid-range transports the fleet had at its disposal.  The Volga-Class runabout had an aggressive profile, closely resembling a streamlined, flattened wedge. Its powerful warp nacelles were integrated into its hull, eliminating the possible structural weakness represented by nacelle pylons. If viewed from the bridge, he imagined the runabout must look like a lethal, silvery projectile, knifing through the void towards the disabled Romulan vessel. In his mind's eye, he envisioned the Presidio's Duranium/Tritanium skin gleaming brightly against the inky blackness of space; a shining beacon of hope to the beleaguered Romulans.

A faint smile formed on K'Tan's face.  We are like the heroes of old, he thought, rushing to the aid of others against incredible odds, with no promise of reward other than the Honor of doing good.  It will be Glorious!
Founding co-host of the Anomaly Podcast