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A Day of Peace

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The USS Gabrielle Coleman, an Excelsior-Class Refit cruiser, lies in Orbit around Sutaka XIII. Its hull is reflecting sunlight showing of the NCC-60501. In the background a planet with three rings is slowly starting to shut off the light coming from the system's sun.

Second Officer Neth's Personal Log: Stardate 65251.3. We remain in the Mantilis Sector. Our mission to explore sectors of the Beta Quadrant while the current power vacuum is still in place is continued to be dismissed by Captain Sh'charith. I have renewed my formal protest as the Captain proposed. She has argued very cogently that it is would be misguieded for me or Commander Valar to risk repercussions to our careers for our ship's actions.

We have been rescheduling this ship's 'days' to a three-shift system due to our continous lack of officers and crew. Today we sent out two shuttlecraft to the Basileos system and left away teams on Numa, Rator III, and Zyman. I held the bridge together with Bol-Sot and two officers I didn't know at all. It is a tremendous effort to keep track of all our operations while maintaining some longe-range scans to keep our research cover story intact.

Lieutenant Commander Neth rises from the chair in their quarters.Its interior design is extremely spartanic, except for a kitchen. The Vulcan officer is moving towards it.

One of the away teams managed to bring back some Vulcan herbs and greens next to Plomeek. I invited T'Mar and M'Pock over to have the soup with me. I hope to be finally making more than acquaintance with the two of them as they are the closest to what I deem familiar, even after 5,594 days in Starfleet. Also I managed to acquire some Hla'meth for tea later on.

The door chimes.

Come in.

---

Captain's log Stardate 65252.2 Supplemental: Today, we successfully continued with our scanning of the Bassen Rift. It is such a rich opportunity to analyse space that was so long barren behind the Neutral Zone. Our chief science officer together with an civilian expert for sensoric archaeology have detected remnants of the USS Enterprise-E's and the Scimitar's fight over. Following Commodore Azu's assessment of the situation, we have launched a full set of 12 probes to analyse the situation further while maintaining our presence in center of our ship's... center of research.

After a deep sigh, Captain Vrimi Sh'charith gets up from the chair of her desk. The Andorian paces around the desk of her ready room. She grabs a dagger from the desk, unsheathes it and balances it on her middle finger while walking around. At some point, frustration takes over and she zealously throws it to the shooting target located next to the door. To her surprise, Commander Valar is standing in the frame of the opened door. Sodit Valar is ostensibly shocked.

Sh'charith: Eh, eh... I'm sorry, Commander. I did not here the door chime. Twitching her right antenna. Also, I did not aim for you. Starts to grin.

Valar: Eh... Right hand still placed over her chest. That thought had not even occured to me, yet. But thanks, I guess. And for the chiming. Well, to be honest, the room's mine. Your shift ended half an hour ago. The Bolian watches out with concern to her Captain.

Sh'charith: So late already? Damned. I have not finished my report.

Valar: Still searching for reasons why we remain in the Mantilis region?

Sh'charith: Indeed. We can't leave once the probes return the day after tomorrow. That's not enough time.

Valar: What about the unchartered Class-N-World. We had discussed this earlier...

Sh'charith: Cutting the Commander off. Yes, yes, I had this proposed. Starfleet Astronomy denied the importance.

Valar: How about Commodore Azu? Can't we trust upon his input for further tasks?

Sh'charith: To be honest, Commander. I feel ever more guilty, the more people I involve in these schemes. Starfleet Security want us to move away. The Diplomatic Corps have sent a fleet of Ambassador-Class ships into the region to take up contact with these Rangers, what's their name again?

Valar: Fenris Rangers, Sir.

Sh'charith: Yes, those. And the Free State. And the remnants of the Star Empire. And the warlords. Voice goes into tremble. And whoever else is currently messing around here semi-autonomously. Tears run down the Captain's cheeks.

Valar: Also fighting with anger coming up. Captain, if... if nothing further can be done, you can hardly blame yourself. One ship can hardly ever pacify a region.

Sh'charith: Slowly calming down. I know. Rubs her eyes. But it's hardly just one ship Starfleet keeps around here. Her shoulders slouch while she's heading for the door. In passing she says. Bridge is yours. Over the shoulder, she says before leaving. Maybe, feel free to add to the official log if you come up with something clever.

The door closes leaving the Bolian First Officer alone in the Commanding Officer's ready room. The communicator signals an incoming message.

Magrak: Magrak to Valar.

Valar: Valar here.

Sodit Valar moves through the room.

Magrak: We've isolated the problems with the industrial replicator down here. Repairing it will take 4 days, however.

Valar: You will probably have 36 hours. Maybe less.

Magrak: In that case, can you spare Lieutenant Bol-Sot?

Valar: I'm afraid, the Lieutenant served the Alpha-Shift today and yesterday's Gamma-Shift. I can ask for someone else in engineering, though.

The Bolian is finally taking her seat in the chair behind the desk.

Magrak: Well, thanks, Sir, but I think that only Bol-Sot will have the creative insight needed.

Valar: Feel free to leave him a message for when he's ready.

Magrak: Will do so, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Magrak out.

Valar buries her face in the palms of her hands.

Computer, Raktajino, hot, sweetened with 3 doses of jumja syrup and targ cream on top.

The drink materializes in the food replicator's dispenser.

Valar: Thank you, Computer.

Computer: You're welcome.

---

An alarm sounds. Lieutenant Commander Neth rises from their bed, takes a look at the kitchen and dining section of their quarters and drops back into bed.

Oh my. Infinite disorder in infinite combinations. A quick smirk hushes over the Vulcan's face before they return back to their posture. Talking to themself, they continues. I must be careful. Had this happened yesterday, my attempts at reconciliating with my fellow Vulcans would have been in vain.

Finally getting up, Neth heads for the sonic shower. After a quick shower, they return to the quarters and open their wardrobe.

What to choose? Neth grabs one of the black-gray uniforms, pushing a few exact exemplars of the very same uniform to the left. Oh yes, what a great choice. The Vulcan applauds themself, laughs exxageratedly. I should definitely meditate later. This crew's humour seems contagious.

After getting dressed, Neth replicates water with a washing detergent for one bowl and clean one for another. They then starts cleaning the used cooking utensils, plates and the like while solemnly reciting ancient Vulcan doctrines.

Lieutenant Commander Neth then places their communicator on the right side of their chest and the rank pins on their collar. They then picks up their tricorder, a thermos mug and a padd before leaving for the corridor.

In the corridor, there is nobody. When arriving at the turbo-lift, the cabin is there in no time and also clear of any people.

Bridge.

While riding the turbolift, the Vulcan tugs at their uniform.

Bol-Sot: Standing at a console he straightens up. Acting Captain on Deck.

The two other two Bolian officers jump up from their seat.

Neth: Sit, sit. There is no need to overextend protocol. Not in the current situation. They yawn. Not so early anyway.

Bol-Sot: Sir, I was requested to assist with the repair of an industrial replicator on Mentapa II. Since we left the system already, I request using the last remaining shuttlecraft.

Neth: That being the Captain's yacht?

Bol-Sot: Yes.

Neth: Fine with me. You will have to ask the Captain beforehand, though. Since Valar had the bridge during the last ship, Captain Sh'charith should be up again.

Bol-Sot: Alright, Sir. Thank you and have relaxed shift.

Neth: As if. Their skin turns slightly greener. Eh, I mean, eh... appreciated. Sitting down, Acting Captain Neth allows themself a few sips of the hot tea revitalising her visibly. Good travel, Lieutenant.

Bol-Sot leaves.

For some time, the three remaining officers work on different stations.

Neth: By the way, I sadly couldn't memorize you two so far.

The two Bolians turn to the Acting Captain.

Leech: I am Ensign Leech. Pronouns are she/ her/ hers.

Brako: Lieutenant Brako. Lieutenant junior grade, that is. I go by he/ him/ his.

Neth: In case I never introduced myelf. Lieutenant Commander Neth. Leaning back in the command chair. They/ them/ theirs.

Another stretch of time passes.

Neth: So, what's with all the information incoming and outgoing.

Brako: It's requests. We function sort of as a communication relay for the region next to whatever the away teams and shuttles do.

Neth: Raising an eyebrow. Oh, I never knew of that. Thanks, Lieutenant.

Neth rises from the command chair and walks over to a wall panel. At some point, they return to the main seat continuing reading into the situation from a pad. A longer amount of time passes again.

Neth: Computer, please put message 104-949-72-M on the main screen.

A video starring a Romulan woman in civilian gown starts to play.

Senta: This is Subcommander Senta from the Romulan Republic.

Neth: Computer, Pause. Turning to Brako and Leech. Have either of you ever heard of the Romulan Republic?

Brako: It's fragments of the Star Empire claiming sovereignty.

Leech: Yes, but they are no rivals either to the Free State or the Empire's remnants.

Neht: Computer, continue.

Senta: I look for any relatives of mine that managed to escape Romulan core territory. I descend from the Tumak/ Pemel-line of the Jarok-Clan. I remain in close contact to the RSSC. Please share any information without regard for politics.

The video ends.

Neth: Turning to the questioning looking Bolians. I noticed the name Jarok. Wasn't there this defector named Jarok on the USS Enterprise once?

Leech: Nodding faster and faster. Yes, yes, there was.

Brako: I wonder if it's the same.

Neth: Let us figure it out. The Romulan Supernova Survivor center has acknowledge Starfleet access to its databases. Computer, are there any records about the Romulan defector named Jarok.

Computer: Processing. A few seconds pass. The Romulan Admiral Jarok came aboard the USS Enerprise NCC-1701-D on Stardate 43462.5. When all the information he provided to Starfleet proved useless, he committed suicide. There is a letter to his daughter and wife that remained in Starfleet's possession to this very day.

Neth: Computer, can you confirm that a Romulan named Senta is a descendant of that Admiral Jarok.

Computer: Processing. A few seconds pass. Processing the RSSC database. Another few seconds pass. Affirmative.

Neth: Can you confirm that Senta is either daughter or wife of Admiral Jarok?

Computer: Negative. The RSSC provided only a vague clustering of the Jarok-Clan since the original data was destroyed upon the destruction of Romulus.

Neth: Does the letter name the Admiral's wife or child?

Computer: Negative.

Neth: I think, even if this letter is not for this Senta, we should deliver it. Pauses for a minute. However, I wonder why this was never handed over to Jarok's family before. We've been allies throughout the war.

Brako: Maybe during the Dominion War, the Romulan Empire remained anxious towards defectors and traitors of old? Pauses. But maybe, the time has come to hand it over.

Neth: You're right. Taps their communicator. Neth to Sh'charith.

Sh'charith: Sh'charith here. What's the matter?

Neth: We found a letter in Starfleet's archive written by a Romulan defector named Jarok. A likely descendant, according to the RSSC's database, has asked for any information regarding survivors of their familis. I would like your permission to send her this letter.

Sh'charith: Sighs. Commander, we cannot get too involved in these affairs. This ship is by now devoting half its science officers and engineers to maintaining the communication relay. If we start handing out extra information, the message requests will most definitely render us incapable of upholding said task. Pauses for 20 seconds. However, it'd also be a wasted chance if we did not pass this information now.

Neth: So, what do you want me to do?

Sh'charith: There's only one more way I can think of. You must alter this as a message being sent to the ship and merely forwarded by us. Make use of some of our probes or shuttles. And tell them to use some ancient encryption code of the Romulans. That should mask the sender good enough for this to be not discovered too quickly.

Neth: Their face shows a stern smile. I fully understand and concur, Sir.

Sh'charith: One more thing. While Admiral Jarok's message may finally find its right adressee and this may be some minor relief, don't think it's going to mean too much to these people. They've been throug hell, nearly annihilated and now facing hostility from a lot of people that used to fear them. But use this opportunity nonetheless.

A small Star Trek fanfiction.
© 2021 Instabula92
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