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Character: Male Romulan Engineer, Starfleet-aligned
Timeframe: Following the mission "Temporal Ambassador"


"Ray of Hope"
By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'


Romulan Republic Warbird,
Azure Sector, Tau Dewa Sector Block

He needed a rest. A real rest, one where he got off the ship and could walk around on a planet without getting shot at by anyone or attacked by native fauna. An in-depth survey of the Azure Nebula because long-range sensors were picking up anomalies was not what he considered a rest. He needed, quite simply, some shore leave, maybe even actually give in to an urge he had been having and making a visit to Vulcan, walk in the sands of his ancestors - but instead, all he was getting at the moment was a mid-day half-nap on the couch in his ready room and even that had just been interrupted by the tones of the intra-ship.

"Incoming hail from the Flotilla, Subcommander."

The ship's captain groaned as he stood up from the couch and exited onto the bridge.

"Maybe they're going to send us a case of ale," he muttered as he walked across the bridge and dropped into the center seat, "I know I could use a drink."

"Maybe they're going to send us to Rator to attack Tal Shiar headquarters and Sela's palace," Hiven countered.

"Then what would we do for an encore?" The Subcommander shot back, "On screen."

Subcommander Nadel's face appeared on the main viewer, "Jolan Tru, Subcommander."

"Jolan Tru, Subcommander," the Captain returned with straight face any Vulcan would find acceptable, showing no sign of the exchange that had just taken place.

"We have a special assignment for you and your crew, Subcommander."

The Captain glanced to his command team around the bridge, all of them with looks of mixed curiousity and suspicion on their faces, the last 'special assignment' they'd been given was the mess they had just finished involving going undercover inside the Tal Shiar and the Captain was even more distrusting considering that towards the end of the operation he had been made as a Republic officer, brainwashed by Hakeev's Elachi-augmented mind control gas and forced to do things that he would see for the rest of his life in some of his worst nightmares, "May I ask what it is, Subcommander Nadel?"

"As part of our arrangements with Starfleet and the KDF, we're being granted rights to recommission some of their older vessels into the Republic Fleet to make up for our present lack of ships."

"I have the feeling that I'm about to be caught up in the middle of something, Subcommander... again."

"You've already shown that you and your crew have a... knack for older ships. Honestly, I'm surprised your Chief Engineer kept that T'Liss flying as long as she had. It's been decided to have your entire crew transferred to one of the starships that we've acquired from Starfleet. The hope is that you'll be able to supply your new ship with the same kind of... durability..."

"What kind of starship?"

"Starfleet support cruiser - Ambassador class."

"Ambassador class? Subcommander, that ship's going to be sixty years old if it was one of the last built, probably even older than that..."

"And the T'Liss-class design is over two hundred. We don't have the Warbirds to be picky about what ships we deploy, Subcommander," Nadel retorted, "Besides, sixty human years is barely middle age for us."

"And what will happen to our Warbird, Subcommander?"

"For the moment, it will remain among the Flotilla in standby modes until we have confirmed that the Starfleet and Klingon Defence Force ships will work for our purposes, Subcommander."


U.S.S. Stingray, NCC-91161,
San Francisco Fleet Yards drydock,
orbiting San Francisco, North American continent,
planet Earth, Sol system,
Vulcan Sector, Sirius Sector Block

The turbolift doors opened and the Romulan Republic command crew stepped out onto the bridge of the Starfleet Support Cruiser and spread out...

"Well, it's old," Tovan observed walking along the arc that framed the Captain's chair and contained the tactical station, "But..."

Satra ran her finger along the Operations console and grimaced, "Filthy, I think, is the word you're looking for."

Turning away from one of the wall consoles, Hiven looked around, "You know, I think my father actually destroyed one of these ships - years ago... at Narenda III."

Satra rolled her eyes, "Everyone's father claims to have been there to battle the Enterprise-C. Why should yours be any different?"

"I don't know," Hiven shrugged, "I never said he was, just that it's what I've always thought... Hey, where's the Reman?"

"Veril," Satra emphasised the other female's name, "Is down in Engineering, trying to see if she can make this Matter/Antimatter Re-Action Core work anywhere near as well as one of our own Singularity Cores."

Looking at the Tactical console, Tovan frowned, "I have a feeling we're going to miss being able to use Plasma Shockwaves."

"For once, Khev, we agree on something," Hiven remarked, "That's why I'm talking to a quartermaster I know in Starfleet about having some Point Defense Turrets redirected our way."

"Do I want to know?" The Subcommander asked with an almost-Vulcan-like raising of an eyebrow as he walked away from the Turbolift to join his senior staff on the Bridge proper.

"He likes Romulan Ale and officially, it's still illegal in the Federation. I traded a gross cases for enough PDS turrets to cover the ship."

"And where did you get the ale?" Satra fumed.

"I found it," Hivan answered in an innocent deadpan.

"Do me a favor, Hivan," the Subcommander shook his head as he perched himself on the arc surrounding the Captain's chair, "Never tell me where you 'found' a gross cases of Ale. That way when Nadel asks, I can honestly say I don't know."

"Know what?" Hivan grinned.

"Exactly," the Subcommander answered, "What's our crew status, Satra?"

The female Scientist tapped a few commands into the Ops console before answering, "Crew transfer should complete within two hours."

"Right," the Subcommander remarked, swinging off the arc and starting to walk towards a door, "I'll be in the Ready Room until then, let me know when all crew are aboard and the dockmaster has cleared us for departure..."

"Sure thing," Tovan announced.

The Subcommander paused at the door to the Ready Room, "And see what you can do about this bridge, it looks... Starfleet, and we're not Starfleet."


RRW Stingray
San Francisco Fleet Yards drydock,
orbiting San Francisco, North American continent,
planet Earth, Sol system,
Vulcan Sector, Sirius Sector Block

The Subcommander sat down in the center seat, "Helm, take us out... As soon as we're clear of drydock, come ninety degrees port, let's see how it handles."

Hiven, who had taken the Helm station next to Satra at Operations, nodded, "Take us out and a hard left, got it... Saucer section clear... Stardrive section clear, initiating turn... Blast..."

"What is it?" the Subcommander asked, concerned something might be wrong.

"This thing turns like a nanov," Hiven commented, giving the side of his console a sharp smack.

The Subcommander quirked an eyebrow, "It's nice to see you've acclimated to Mol'Rihann so well."

"It moves like a nanov and there's no cloaking device," Tovan shook his head from the Tactical station, "You'd think we'd at least retrofit these ships with a proper cloaking device."

"Be nice, Tovan," the other Viranati Romulan chided, "After all, the humans are our allies now."

Tovan scoffed, "I'm starting to think we should've taken the Klingons' offer."

"Because they also use cloaking devices as standard issue?" Hiven asked over his shoulder

"And the Federation refuses to let any of their Defiant Retrofits or Devron-type Galaxy Dreadnoughts find their way into Republic hands," Tovan elaborated.

"Maybe this is the galaxy's way of saying it's time for us to stop sneaking around and hiding," Hiven suggested.

"Maybe this is the galaxy's way of making us easy targets instead," Tovan countered.

"I'm still having trouble with the name," Satra admitted from the Ops station, "It might be commissioned into the Republic Fleet, it might no longer be a Starfleet vessel because of it, but it's still not a warbird, so why has it been designated an 'Romulan Republic Warbird' if it's not a warbird?"

"Hiven, set a course back to the Tau Dewa Sector Block," the Subcommander shrugged, "Satra, feel free to ask Admiral Kerenek when we get to Mol'Rihann... Maximum impulse... Now."