Star Trek: Season 10

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

Previous topic - Next topic

0 Members and 2 Guests are viewing this topic.



Aeric and Joseph entered the cargo hold and scanned the Romulan people within. They all looked at them—Joseph sparred a sly glance for Aeric. The First Officer carefully advanced, "I am Commander James of the Starfleet ship Arabella, we are here to assist you. Your ship is unstable and should be abandoned. Our vessel is capable of providing medical aid and transport. If you will come with us, we will show you to our runabout and begin the evacuation. Mr D'Callan is here to assist you. If you will provide him with your credentials we will pass them on to your council. Mr D'Callan, if you please..."

Joseph smiled and slowly stepped forward. He held his PADD out and asked for the first of the Romulan names.

Legate Rayan stood in the back of the cold, dark cargo hold, watching the two Starfleet officers with a rabid inclination. A tall dark haired human, a security officer by the looks of his uniform, talked to several of the Romulan leaders before his eyes met Raylan's. The Cardassian did not flinch as the human noted him.

D'Callan nodded to him then turned to Commander James, "Sir," he said quietly, "I don't want to cause a stir, but there's a Cardassian standing at the back of the hold." D'callan smiled at Aeric as he turned his back to Rayan and continued tapping a description into his PADD. Aeric chanced a look over D'Callan's shoulder and observed the out of place passenger.

"He must be in charge of the rescue team," thought Rayan. His chest heaved and he walked slowly toward them—looking side to side as the Romulans cleared a path for him.

Aeric met the Cardassian half way.

"Starfleet... what a pleasant surprise. I am Legate Rayan of the Central Command. And you are...?"

Aeric straightened, "We are in bit of a hurry, sir. I would be more than happy to resume pleasantries once we are safely back on my own ship."

The Cardassian smiled, not taking his eyes of James he leaned forward slightly, "Terrible pilots these Romulans."

Lieutenant Commander D'callan stepped to Aeric's and Rayan's side and addressed the First Officer. "Sir, we're ready to move out..."

Aeric kept his eyes locked on Rayan's, "Begin the evacuation Mr. D'Callan. Perhaps the Legate here can assist you in getting everyone where they need to be."

Joseph smiled and gestured to the Cardassian, "After you......Sir."

Rayan's brow raised slightly, causing his ridges to crumple, yet he refused to show the disdain he held within. "Of course," he replied, his amiable smile flashing brightly in the gloom of the cargo hold.

Shelby D

Joint post by Bryancd & Crystal

Nalah moved silently through the entryway to the equipment storage locker making sure that no one spotted her. On the far side of the small room was her destination; the auxiliary hanger bay access panel. She hoped any Starfleet personnel left in the bay would be facing the main door and that this would provide her entry without being detected. She held her breath for a moment before making her entrance......and thought back to a day many years before.

She was 12 years old and the two older boys had confronted her on the street by her home. "Traitor!" they had yelled and Nalah braced for what was to come. But instead of accepting the abuse, she lashed out in rage. She could never recall the particulars but she could clearly remember the startled, bloodied faces of her tormentors staring up at her from the ground. She would need to find that place again if there was someone inside standing in her way to freedom.

The door parted quietly and Nalah could see the Federation shuttle. Moving further into the bay, she knelt down onto the floor to look underneath; she could see a pair of boots on the opposite side. A guard had been left behind. She moved along the flank of the ship and slowly around the far edge. The guard's back was turned and to Nalah's surprise, she could see long dark braided hair, it was a woman! A weak human woman, she thought as her confidence bolstered.

Daelen, while standing next to the ship, had heard many sounds while she was standing there. Only one had bothered her so far though. It was the one which her sensitive ears had picked up no more than ten minutes before. The noise had originated from the other side of the runabout; reminding her of fabric moving or a ghostly echo of life but when she had looked she had seen nothing.

In response, she pocketed the tri-corder and moved her hands away from the device. Her instincts kicked in, accompanied by a cold chill of excitement and fear rushing through her. A sudden desire to step forward once and pivot nearly possessed her but being unsure of what to expect. She simply moved her hand closer to where her phaser rested on her hip for the time being.

Nalah quickly moved towards the ensign, her hands clenched together in a fist she would bring down hard on the back of the woman's skull, rendering the guard unconscious. Just as she raised her hand to deliver the blow, she unexpectedly turned.....and Nalah froze as she stared into the face of another Romulan!

As the pair stood nearly toe to toe, Shelby's gray orbs reflected the visage of the Romulan woman who had been about to attack her. Noting the tightly clasped hands and the determined scowl etched onto her face, the officer's instincts told her to fire! The woman was dangerous. Aeric's words rebounded though; No altercations!

The Ensign tilted her head curiously. "Not quite the way you repay someone who can save your life, is it?"

Narrowing her gaze at the newcomer, the Security Officer's gut instinct screamed at her lack of action. She knew Romulan's well; having grown up with them. She gave a seconds pause; probably more than she should have given to her opponent.

Nalah's opportunity for surprise was now gone, she released her clenched hands and in an almost graceful motion she struck out with her palm hard into Shelby's sternum, lifting her off her feet and sending her painfully skidding on her back across the deck.

The expression on Daelen's face indicated her own sense of shock; clearly she hadn't been expecting to be assaulted by the very people they were here to rescue. Shaking her head, Shelby lifted immediately back to her feet and she growled at the Romulan. 

"V'yy'al!" Nalah screamed as she lunged towards Shelby.

Before her momentum was able to help her, the ensign rewarded the alien with a stunning roundhouse kick to the side of her head which sent her sprawling to the officer's left. There was no waiting anymore in Shelby's mind she had tried to be civil and had been attacked as a result. Her eyes went to the downed woman.

Angry beyond any comprehension, Nalah shouted again as she spun into the wall and then pushed herself up onto her feet automatically. She kicked out at the dark haired woman who deflected the strikes with one arm then the other in sync. Flowing in a smooth turn, the Romulan took the officer off guard once more, backhanding her harshly and throwing her onto the runabout's bulkhead. 

Groaning, Daelen's head and face throbbed as she pushed away from the vessel instinctively. She'd had enough of this. As she turned to face her attacker the Romulan's voice reached an octave that Shelby wasn't sure she had heard before as the refugee's charge began. Without waiting any longer Shelby took action, drawing her phaser and firing it directly into the midsection of the Romulan and dropping her like a rock.

Out of breath and aching, Shelby wasn't sure that she had completely incapacitated her vicious rival, moving close, but not close enough this time. Daelen looked down at her as she reached up and felt some blood coming from a scrape along her temple. "Hwiiy (Hwy Veruu) veruu !!" The anger which had built up in the half-Romulan longed to do more; her sensibilities and her duty were telling her otherwise. "You're no better than any of the rest of them."

Breathing heavily she bound the woman, loaded and secured her inside the runabout; making sure not to place her anywhere near anything vital to the performance of the ship.  She would have to brief the XO and D'Callan as soon as time permitted.

When she was done, the security officer moved to a seat near the entrance and she waited. 


Sevryll watched the viewscreen with serene self-possession as the bridge crew busied themselves about her. The rescue team had been aboard the Romulan transport for over twenty minutes; their only contact with Arabella being an acknowledgment of its captain's warning and call for haste. Despite the lack of verbal communications, the bond she held with her first officer allowed confirmation that all was well. She refrained from distracting him by projecting any inquiries, instead the Vulcan sought only a sense of his emotional state. Though Aeric was focused on his task, the half-El-Aurian was not stressed, which put the Captain at ease.  

Her ever-impassive face remained so as she turned her dark-eyed gaze to the Bolian seated at her left. He and the Chief Science Officer's words of encouragement were not exactly appropriate for the bridge, but she had not been their captain for more than a few weeks. Though she strictly adhered to protocol, she was still their friend and let the overstep go—besides, their words had helped.  "I am grateful for your counsel Mr. Margon," she said in a lowered voice. The Counselor smiled in response and Sevryll continued at a normal volume. "I agree... the crew has been on edge. Mr. Margon, I would like you to visit the various departments to monitor the crew's disposition and remind them, when necessary, that I do not wish the evacuees to be treated as suspects."
Founding co-host of the Anomaly Podcast


After backing out of the maintenance tunnel, K'Tan headed back to Doctor Drett and the group of passengers gathered around her.  As the doctor busily moved among the Romulans, K'Tan couldn't help but notice that her hands appeared to be painted green.  In fact, the wet, glistening pigment seemed to extend all the way up to her rolled up sleeves.

I guess she's not as squeamish as I first supposed, he mused.  That's yet another point in her favor.

Wait, he thought.  Exactly when did I start keeping a mental tally of the woman's merits and shortcomings?  What concern is it of mine?

Seeking to end this troublesome train of thought, K'Tan forced himself back to the matter at hand.  "Excuse me, Doctor.  I've deactivated the ship's cloak, which should buy us some time.  But we still need to get these people to the shuttle as quickly as possible.  Are they all well enough to move yet?"

As the doctor turned to answer, K'Tan noticed that she seemed to favor one of her wrists.  A look of concern crossed his face.  "Are you all right?"


Legate Rayan waked slightly ahead of Joseph D'Callan   "So Ensign,  I find it interesting how the good old Federation is so eager to help this Romulan craft" Joseph smiled, he'd been in starfleet way too long to rise to such an obvious tease. "oh you know, we do enjoy our humanitarium ways Gul Rayan"   Rayan flicked his head at D'Callan "it's Legate Rayan" Joseph smiled "and i'm lieutenant commander D'Callan nice to have that cleared up. Now if you'd be so kind please do concentrate on where you are walking. I wouldn't want you to go banging your head" Rayan looked forward. "you're concern is duly noted lieutenant commander"  From the back of the group Commander James smiled gently at the conversation but broke his thoughts by a blip on his tricorder, he turned as he walked to see parts of the corridor begin to shake.


"Main Engineering."

The turbolift doors hissed shut as the Vulcan engineer turned to face them, the car commencing its graceful acceleration soon afterwards. Provision of emergency accommodation was progressing well, but it appeared that a greater share of available power would be beneficial to the efforts of the engineering crew.

"Frida to Tolok." The disembodied voice of the young Bridge officer intruding on his thoughts, the Lieutenant Commander tapped his chest. "Tolok here. Go ahead Ensign."

"Sir, the cloak has been disabled aboard the Romulan ship. It might now be possible...", Frida began.

" use the transporters to recover some of those aboard." Tolok completed his subordinate's sentence. "Understood Ensign, Tolok out."

The Vulcan tapped his chest again. "Tolok to Frep"

"Sir?", the Denobulan's voice was as alert as always.

"Chief, please commence another transport scan of the Romulan ship. The cloak has been disabled so it may be possible to transport survivors. I am on my way to join you."

"Aye, Sir. Frep out."

"Computer. Re-route, transporter room 1.", the level tones betrayed no emotion.


The Vulcan stood motionless, mentally working through possible transport scenarios until the lift arrived at it's destination. Given the damage to the Romulan ship, it was not guaranteed that transport would be possible even without the cloak in operation. So much of Romulan technology was unknown that even in full working order there was a good chance that something would interfere with the process. With the ship in the state it was in, however, those chances had been multiplied many times.


Frep stood at the raised transporter console, cycling through various scan combinations as he attempted to determine the number and location of the survivors aboard the vessel before the Arabella. With the cloak down, a number of new lifesigns had 'appeared' on his scan but the picture was hazy and the target discrimination wasn't anything like as good as he wanted. The Arabella crew stood out clearly at least, the equipment attached to their uniforms doing the job it had been designed for but the remainder of the life forms aboard were still masked or distorted in some manner.

The Denobulan looked up briefly as the doors hissed open and Commander Tolok entered but quickly bent back to his scan.

"We can see most of them now, Sir," he said as the Vulcan joined him behind the console, "but getting a lock on them all isn't going to be possible."

Tolok nodded as he looked over the Denobulan's shoulder. "It is reasonable to assume that whatever damage they have sustained has polluted the atmosphere with various substances and radiation that will interfere with transport." Moving to the rear control interface, the Chief Engineer began to manipulate the sensor bandwidth allocation, attempting to further resolve the detected life signs.

It was another five minutes before Frep straightened and Tolok stepped back from his panel.

"That's as good as we'll get, Sir." the Chief stated with a hint of disappointment.

"I agree, Chief. It is also logical to assume that conditions aboard the vessel will deteriorate further the longer we try and increase our sensitivity, thus neutralising the benefits of any extended effort."

Frep simply nodded.

Tapping a panel before him, Tolok cocked his head slightly. "Tolok to the Bridge."

"Go ahead." came back the gruff voice of the new Ferengi Conn officer.

"Please inform the Captain that we are now in the position of being able to remove the crew of the damaged vessel one or two at a time if required.", Tolok stated flatly, "We also have a solid lock on each of our own crew members should we need to get them back aboard quickly. If the away team can set up some pattern enhancers, we may be able to improve upon our estimated transport rate."

"Acknowledged. Bridge out."

I know it's unnusual here but I don't have a podcast of my own.


 "Are you alright?" The Trill's attention was suddenly drawn from her work by K'Tan's inquiries. Ryla's anxiety was high and her voice had been trained by the persistent bleat of the alarm, which caused her answer to come like the crack of a Ferengi's whip, "YES." Her reply echoed in the engine room; it was then that she noticed the klaxon had died and the relentless strobe of the queasy lights had finally ceased. The intensity of her hoarse voice surprised even her, and she continued in a softer tone, "Thank you...I'll be fine." Ryla absently brushed hair from her eyes—completely unaware that the action left a green smudge large enough to obscure the spots on her forehead.

Recalling K'Tan's first question, the doctor glanced about the room. "We're ready, though there are some who will need to be carried."

She carefully stooped to gather her med kit before locating the man who still held his hands over Senator Nevash's wound. Drett pointed to two other men standing nearby, "I need your help to carry the senator." One of the men wandered away, unwilling to provide the assistance she requested. The individual who stayed behind, recruited another candidate and moved to Nevash's side. "Thank you," said Ryla.

The tension in the room had not broken. She and K'Tan were still unwelcome, but survival was more important at the moment and the Romulans tolerated the rescue team. "What is your name?" Ryla asked the man who had faithfully held his hands over the wound on the senator's chest.

"Poyvahn. I am Senator Ketleck's aid." The Trill raised her brows at that. The man had struck his employer for his vicious attack on Nevash. Ryla felt guilty for being surprised. "You'll need to keep pressure against the wound as they carry her."

"I understand," he said grimly.

Doctor Drett pitched her gaze to Ketleck, who was already being lifted by the man who had refused to carry Nevash. She frowned in thought—the roots of politics have yet to wither, even though their government died weeks ago.

"Lead the way, Mr. K'Tan," she said with a sigh. At the moment Ryla was not the least bit irritated by his presence; an abnormal condition to be sure. She wondered if it would become easier to tolerate him the longer they worked together. Maybe we could eventually be friends.  The Trill chuckled wryly at the stray thought, but quickly choked it down. The laugh had been an improbable sound for such a dismal state of affairs and it struck her as sounding a bit unstable.

The group of evacuees was lead into the corridor and toward the shuttle bay. Drett cringed as a woman bumped into her arm. The Trill lifted her wrist to eye level and in the dimness could see that it was swollen. She shifted her gaze to the Romulan who collided with her; it was the same woman who had broken her wrist in the engine room.  The Romulan now leveled Doctor Drett with a corrosive glower—the fires of her contempt seeping into the air to burn the Starfleet Officer. "Your pardon," the woman hissed.

Drett returned her glare before nodding an acceptance of 'apology'.  The shuttle bay was not much further.  We can't stop now, she thought. I'll repair the bone once were safely aboard the Arabella. The deck suddenly rumbled beneath their feet.
Founding co-host of the Anomaly Podcast


The diagnostic monitoring the Arabella's navigational deflector systems continued to report that the system was working within accepted parameters just as Lester had thought it would. The fact that the Arabella had had to extend her main shields to encompass the Romulan vessel in effect made them superfluous for the time being anyway.

Turning in his chair he tapped the controls to scan to the Romulan ship once again. Word had reached engineering that the ship didn't have long but at least the arduous process of evacuating the refugees had was under way. You didn't have to be a engineer to know that it wasn't a good idea to under the same shields as a ship that could blow any minute. Lester found himself wishing that the destruction wasn't inevitable as he would give anything to take an up close look at that warp core.

Suddenly his instruments beeped to indicate a change in the circumstances of the subject being scanned and Lester witnessed the Romulan vessel become fully visible. Somebody had managed to deactivate the cloak. This please him and as he expected soon after a check for transporter activity showed scans being performed on these new areas of the vessel.

"Great. We may make it out of here after all." he muttered under his breath.


As K'Tan, Dr. Drett, and their Romulan charges slowly made their way down the passageway, another tremor shook the deck.  K'Tan signaled for the group to wait for the floor to stabilize.  As the rumbling abated, he referred to his PADD.  "We should be at the shuttlebay shortly.  With luck, we'll soon be on our way to safety."

A hard-faced Romulan woman to his left gave a snort of contempt.  "How wonderful.  The so-called safety of a Federation starship.  And I'm sure that once aboard, we will be treated to a nice, relaxing trip to your interrogation chamber.  No doubt you will provide entertainment as well; perhaps an invigorating visit by your torturers, who will pick our brains for the Empire's secrets!"  

The woman's scowl deepened, and her lip curled into a snarl. "Areinnye´n - hnah, hevamsu!"

"Indeed," K'Tan replied with a snarl of his own.  "And you--"

His response was cut short by the earsplitting shriek of tortured metal, and the screams of the group as the floor seemed to drop from under their feet.

The momentary disorientation of free-fall was cruelly cut short; all were suddenly, violently slammed back to the unyielding deck plating. The lights flickered, then died, leaving only the green flash of the alarm signal, and the whimpers of fear and pain that rose from the sprawled group.  

K'Tan painfully got back on his feet and surveyed the group.  The doctor was kneeling over the Romulan with the chest wound, a wound that seemed to be bleeding more freely.  

"The senator is getting worse," she said.  "If we try to move her, I doubt she'll make it."

K'Tan glanced glanced back at the passage leading to the shuttlebay, and his expression fell.  He gave a small sigh.  "We won't be going that way, in any event."

The doctor looked up to see the passage completely blocked by a twisted jumble of support struts and metal beams protruding down from the deck above.


According to Senator Nevash, a rogue warbird  had been the reason for the disabled transport's current situation. The Arabella's shields, which now encompassed the Romulan vessel, were extended to protect the crippled ship from a second attack. Now it seemed, the warbird's return was at the bottom of Sevryll's list of concerns—the transport vessel's warp core was about to go critical and she could not retract the shields without hindering Arabella's ability to beam their crewmen and the evacuees aboard. With the cloaking device down the possibility of transporter locks had been furthered, and the rescue team was in the process of enhancing their patterns. She sat forward in her chair as the bridge crew intermittently dispensed the information their scans gathered.

Sevryll knew that cloaking device was not only deactivated, but more than likely tucked away, ready for transport back to the Arabella. The Treaty of Algeron prohibited the implementation of cloaking technology by the Federation, but Aeric argued that the use of such resources extended only to Starfleet vessels. His goal was to incorporate the technology with the Aurora's systems. The ship he built was not apart of the fleet, which led him to believe his plan was well within the bounds of Federation Law.

In his mind, the cloak would properly outfit the Aurora for evacuating the crew's children, should the fleet encounter a situation it could not survive. Though Sevryll was in agreement with the contingency plan she did not intend to sabotage the fleet's mission as an envoy of peace, by hunting the leftovers of the maimed Empires. It was difficult enough to convince the Romulans that the Federation wished only to offer of aid. They were a suspicious people, and those the Seventh Fleet encountered believed the Federation sought to conquer them. If the fleet became scavengers, the Romulans would never accept the olive branch extended—thus defeating the purpose of their mission. They debated the point over several dom jot games, but Aeric had not come to her way of thinking. He could be uncompromising when it came to the protection his family, and he held that responsibility slightly above his duties as an officer. Commander James was stubborn and his nature often brought him trouble before he was bonded to Sevryll. Their pairing had given them each balance. His wife offered logic, poise and a broadened perspective while he offered her heightened confidence, ingenuity and a longer life expectancy. At the moment the logic their bond lent him was being overwhelmed by his stubborn disposition. It was now obvious her first officer required a direct order to discourage his attempts.
Founding co-host of the Anomaly Podcast


Herm crouched on his haunches in the hanger bay, shifting his gaze from his PADD to the hanger doors and back again. The highly trained crew did not currently need his help, though he was more than willing to give it. Like any Starfleet Academy graduate he was trained in all areas of ship operations from medic to mechanic, but also like any Starfleet Academy graduate he knew when to stay out of the way when the specialists were at work. He wasn't concerned, there would be plenty of work to do as soon as the evacuees arrived.

He used his PADD to look up some common Romulan phrases. Even though the Universal Translator system made it possible to communicate, he knew that hearing someone speak in your native tongue was always preferable to the very slightly computerized translation, especially in tense situations.

"Aefvadh", Herm practiced aloud, ignoring the glances of those around him. Language had never been his strong point, but it was very important to his job, so he struggled through it.

His job... When he came aboard the Arabella, he had no idea he would be fully engaged in his assignment so soon. Though under the direct command of Captain Sevryll and her command crew, his assignment came from the Federation.

His mind wandered back in time....


Herm had just returned to Risa following his Starfleet Academy graduation. Within hours he had received literally hundreds of offers from universities and archaeological societies all over the quadrant. Apparently, news of the work he had done on Omega Leonis had gotten around. He let the computer play the messages as he packed his few belongings. He didn't yet know where he would unpack them, but he was ready to go.

"Computer, skip message", he said, during one particularly long winded message. There was truly only one message he was waiting for, his orders from Starfleet.

He knew, that in spite of the great opportunities available, there was only one group that offered him what no others could. Starfleet could take him "out there", "where no man has gone before", as they used to say.

Herm was in the process of packing his beloved paint brushes when the computer suddenly beeped, interrupting the litany of messages.

"Incoming message from the Federation, current Starfleet personnel only", the computer declared, "please enter ID number for authorization."

Concerned, Herm reached over to the keypad to enter his personnel number. Messages like this, especially delivered to new ensigns were rare and were never good news.

Herm finished punching in his number and the computer continued. "Starfleet intelligence relates that Romulus has been destroyed. Repeat, the planet Romulus has been destroyed. All Starfleet personnel are asked to be on high alert for emergency deployment in light of possible attack by surviving Romulan agents. More information will follow."

The computer chirped off. Herm flopped heavily on the floor. The loss of any life was sad news, but the loss of an entire civilization was devastating. To someone like him, with the utmost respect for any culture and their arts, the news was a blow to the stomach. He sat on the floor for hours, pondering the loss this brought to the galaxy. In spite of their distrust of the Federation, there was always the hope that someday the curtain would lift and Romulus would open up to their neighbors, sharing their art and culture. Now that hope was gone, and all was lost.

Slowly he got up and continued to pack.


Herm was shaken from his flashback by the sound of something clanging on the deck. "Sorry!" some young voice sounded from somewhere. The crew of the Arabella was unlike any he had expected to encounter. They had to be the most diverse collection of people he had ever met. From the Vulcan captain to the Bolian counselor to the Ferengi pilot. What he could learn from these people! And now here he was awaiting his first contact with the Romulans! This is what the Federation sent him out here for.

His mind drifted again...


Two weeks he had been home, and still no word from Starfleet. This was unusual. Often, newly graduated cadets were sent straight from San Francisco to their postings. However, the destruction of Romulus had changed everything. Herm had busied himself catering to the tourist trade that was his planets only industry by playing music at various venues around his home town.

That is where his assignment finally found him. He was in the middle of a particularly difficult jazz tune on an Earth instrument known as a "guitar" when his Starfleet issued communicator beeped. He cut the tune short and left the stage.

Upon activating the communicator, the computer voice chimed: "Incoming message from the Federation Office of Archaeological Affairs, please wait for Counselor Veloram". The Federation? Archaeological Affairs? Why were they contacting him? Something twitched in Herm's stomach as he waited.

Finally, a new voice, deep and serious, came from the communicator. "Ensign Hermaratlo, I presume?"

"Yes, Counselor", Herm croaked. Of course he was very familiar with Counselor Voloram's position at the Federation and his work in both opening and preserving archaeological sites for scientists and scholars.

"I am speaking to you on behalf of the Federation and Starfleet on an urgent matter. This concerns your assignment within Starfleet, but more importantly, we need you to represent the Federation's archaeological and anthropological arm. Are you in a secure location so we may talk?"

"Yes, Counselor, but perhaps I should speak to you at home, it would only take a minute..."

"Ensign, there is no time. I need you to start walking to the nearest transporter station for immediate beaming aboard the Starship Inspector which is in orbit above Risa."

"Yes, Counselor", Herm again replied, always very polite, "but my belongings..."

"You will have to make arrangements to have them sent to you. I need to be brief, please let me continue. You are to report to Captain Sevryll of the Arabella. Further details of your assignment will be given once you are aboard the Inspector and are underway."

"But Counselor, where am I going?"

"I'm sorry, Ensign, but right now that's classified. However, you might want to brush up on your Romulan."

"Romulan? Counselor, but why...."

"I cannot say more now. Please transport to the Inspector immediately."


Again, his memory was interrupted by the noises about him. The hanger bay doors were opening, revealing the shimmering force field and the Romulan ship beyond. He was no expert, but the ship was obviously in serious condition. He hoped the away team made it back safely.

He returned to studying his PADD, but again his mind was on what led him here...


"Incoming message, eyes only." The Federation had found him aboard the Inspector, as expected. He had only just beamed aboard when the computer alerted him. "Acknowledged", Herm replied, asking the transporter chief for the nearest secure terminal.

He keyed in his ID and brought up the message:


You have been chosen for a very delicate assignment. Your work on various archaeological sites, and especially the insight you displayed on Omega Leonis, has shown that you are uniquely suited for this assignment.

You have been assigned to the Arabella as the Archeology and Anthropology officer. You are to report directly to Captain Sevryll, but you will also be under the direction of Counselor Veloram.

The Arabella has been selected to lead a fleet into Romulan space on a humanitarian mission. Your job is to make an investigation into the remnants of Romulan culture. You will be given security clearance to communicate with any Romulans you may encounter as well as investigating any sites of interest that you may find.

It is of utmost importance that we help the survivors of Romulus save and conserve whatever is left of their cultural identity. Their arts, music, literature, we must help them protect it. Given your experience and expertise, as well as your... unusual racial heritage, you are the best choice to fill this post.

You are alone in this mission, but you will be allowed to request aid from your captain as needed. Given the tenuous nature of the mission, we feel that this is the best course for your assignment.

You will send Counselor Veloram weekly updates of your work and what you have encountered. Your reports will be shared with any Romulan authorities as requested.

We look forward to your findings.

End of message.'

Romulan space! Romulans! Any fear he might have had was overwhelmed by the possibilities before him! He would be the first from the Federation to make a direct anthropological investigation into Romulan culture!

He headed to the Inspector's recreation lounge for a celebratory drink.


That was a week ago. He was one of, if not, the last crew member to report for duty before the Arabella got under way. Until today, his job had been to get acquainted with his ship, her captain, and it's crew. He had already become well acquainted with "The Afterburner" lounge. He had also spent some time studying what little was known of Romulan art, culture, and religion.

He stood and looked anxiously toward the open bay. Did the damaged ship just shudder? He said a little prayer to his Risian gods for the safe return of the away team and the Romulan survivors.

From the looks of it, they better hurry.

When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained. - Mark Twain


A quick glance at the wreckage blocking the passageway, and K'Tan knew that an alternate route to the Pressidio would have to be found.  He activated his PADD, and pulled up what seemed to be an accurate deck plan for the ship. 

"Looks like one of the maintenance tunnels should bypass the obstruction," he said.   "It's a pretty tight fit though; and involves a bit of climbing."  He glanced back at the wounded senator, then turned to the doctor.  "Unfortunately, it doesn't look like your patient is well enough to do any climbing right now."


Dr. Peterson finished preparing the surgical area and had everything ready. She briefly nodded to her husband before telling Nurse Cane to prepare the antigrav stretchers to bring to the shuttlebay.


Joint Post by Jen, Wraith1701, Shelby Daelen, Just X and Hawkeyemeds (1 of 8 )

"Please keep moving towards the shuttle bay," Aeric said in Romulan, but with clear Vulcan accents and cadence, as he calmly moved with the crowd. His voice rose to be heard over their ambient noise in a reassuring tone that had been honed on the battlefield and switched back to Federation standard. "Joseph, we need to keep everyone moving. We're running out of time."

Aeric's thoughts turned to Sevryll which gave his eyes a slightly vacant look. It was not the woman that was his wife, but the captain that he communicated with now. His pulse quickened in the silent exchange of information that had served them well over the four decades that they had been together. It was a command communication over the most secure and private channel the two had. It was an exchange of status reports and alterations to preexisting plans once the new information was factor into the equation. Apart yet never apart. It was true for all Vulcan pairings, but their own bond exceeded the traditional in all ways.

— Sahris, ishanai vohtau! The order in Golic came though like a shout in his mind. Her thought was a command, not a request: Quickly, do not delay! A heartbeat later she followed with another, leave the cloaking device behind. You are not there to scavenge their derelict vessel...

Orders are orders, he responded with humor laced thought. There was no need mention his secondary objective, they knew each other too well. He had hoped that she would not see fit to give the order, but he understood her logic behind it. They were rescuers, not vultures. An advantage in the field would be a poor advantage if it cost them the fragile trust of those they were rescuing.

"D'Callan to Shelby, get the shuttle ready" Joseph said over the soft clang of booted feet moving over the metal deck plating. Worried faces drifted past, soaked with sweat from the humidity generated from the failing life support on the transport.

"Already there Sir." Came the woman's response, immediately the ensign moved to prepare the ship for their departure. Glancing back at her 'guest' who was still out cold Shelby knew that she needed to let the Commander know about the prisoner; which is how Daelen viewed her as. It was just a matter of timing. Reaching up to her combadge, Shelby was about to notify D'Callan when the runabouts systems began to warn her of the rapidly disintegrating situation on the ship itself. 

The deep flowing voice of the Romulan computer spoke out and informed the escaping group of the failing containment system. While he understood the Romulan words, his mental translation of the words where simple. Leave now, or stay and die.

Acrid blue smoke exited one of the wall consoles adding a new scent to the stale, poorly recycled air. Aeric tapped his badge while his eyes attempted to adjust to the pulsating green warning lights, "James to K'Tan. What is your location, compliment, and ETA?"
Founding co-host of the Anomaly Podcast


Joint Post by Jen, Wraith1701, Shelby Daelen, Just X and Hawkeyemeds (2 of 8 )

K'Tan tapped his chest, activating his commbadge. "The doctor and I are currently just outside of main engineering.  There are seven passengers with us, one in critical condition.  Any word yet on the transporter? The doctor feels that her patient would not survive a trip to the shuttle at this point."

K'Tan found himself suddenly struggling to maintain his footing as the deck began buckling beneath him.  The tremor ceased, accompanied by the ominous creak and groan of stressed metal.  K'Tan's heart began to beat faster at the sounds of impending destruction.  The voice of Commander James issued from his commbadge, but the words were garbled and broken.

Palms growing slick with perspiration, K'Tan hit his commbadge once more.  "Come again," he said.  "I couldn't make out your last transmission."  Glancing down, he noticed a sharp dent in the commbadge's casing.  Damn, he thought. Must have been damaged when the deck collapsed.

Fueled by adrenaline, K'Tan's thoughts raced.  There has to be a way for us to punch through the transporter interference.  As often happened in stressful situations, he found himself drawing on the tales of one of his secret childhood heroes- the human captain James Kirk. Although reviled by many in the empire, Starfleet's historic maverick captain was also granted grudging respect.  And while he would have never admitted it to any of his Klingon peers, K'Tan secretly idolized the man.  For a human child living among Klingons, the legends of Kirk served as a protective shield for his sense of self-worth, and a constant reminder of what humans were capable of.  What would Kirk do? 

As a new tremor shook the ship, K'Tan felt a moment of desperate inspiration. If the Arabella can't beam us up, perhaps we can beam ourselves to her.

K'Tan turned to doctor Drett.  "I'm going to head to the shuttle, and see if we can possibly boost its transporter system to beam your patients to the ship." He smiled as a new thought occurred to him.  "Or perhaps we can slave the Presidio's transporter to that of the Arabella."

The tension was like a dilithium crystal doomed to be cracked and waiting for the inevitability. Ryla's silence was broken by a long breath; the weight of their situation suddenly thickening the air. "What are you waiting for Mr. K'Tan?" She paused for emphasis, "Go!"

K'Tan ran down the corridor as fast as he could; each second that ticked by brought them all closer to a violent, fiery death.

He smiled.  He hadn't had this much fun in months.

His breath came in deep, even gasps, each inhalation accompanied by the familiar scents of starship battle: the sharp, ozone-smell of scorched circuitry and the chemical stench of fire suppressant.  As he ran, the stark metallic support struts lining the corridor flashed by in his peripheral vision,  and the echoing wail of the alarm only served to elevate the tension in the air.  A skidding stop and turn to the right, and he faced the dark hallway leading to the shuttlebay.  With a renewed burst of speed, he took off;  and as his boots echoed through the deserted hallway, K'Tan was overcome by the sensation that he was running through the entrails of some giant, iron-boned dying beast.  The steady, rhythmic pulsing of the warning lights now provided the only illumination, intermittently rendering his surroundings in chaotic, green-tinted snapshots of damaged components and blackened control panels.