STAR TREK Remington

ON:

Ext. Sector 558, Delta Quadrant

Stars twinkled like jewels the vibrantly colors space. Gases from the unknown nebula flowed lazily into each other, stirring their various hues into one pool of color, sending out what seemed like flashes of lightening bolts as gases ignited in the process of forming a new star . . . A new system in the forbidding Delta Quadrant.
Like an ancient Earth steamer, plowing her way through the waves of the vast oceans, the prow of USS Remington NX-58600 emerged from the interior of the blood red and vibrant orange nebula. A leviathan extending some one thousand ninety-seven meters in length, Remington was the largest ship ever completed by the StarFleet Core of Engineers, a symbol of their greatest achievements. She was the first of her class, the first of the massive long-range tactical dreadnaughts.
Slowly as the final edge of the two main warp nacelles slipped out of the nebulas’ grasp, a group of type 11 shuttlecraft emerged, carrying a damaged USS Fearless in the tractor beams. Charred and battered, the modified Defiant Pathfinder vessel glided lazily through space. With all portholes darkened and deflector dead, the tiny vessel could support no one.

Int. Remington Bridge

The deep green eyes panned the room. There was a pair of ensign ranked repairmen working on the Tactical II station just to right of where the figure sat. They were younger men, seeming to be in their mid twenties, Khazara had judged. Even though he was not human and unable to tell for sure after all these years near age by looks. Not for humans at least: No, Romulans aged far differently.
Slowly the eyes turned, looking down to the helmsman – helmswoman Lieutenant Junior Grade Dizaria looked over the helm console, gliding the ship towards a blank area of space. He watched her for a moment, as she would tap a series of commands, gracing the ship through space then she would quickly look up the screen, her eyes drinking in the details of the solar system that lay ahead of them. Slowly his eyes panned up to the viewscreen. He now too drank in the details of the amazing view. White rays of light flared around the edge of a drifting moon. Slowly the white light grew larger until it was completely exposed to the Remington by the passion moon. His eyes quickly squinted to the bright light, causing him to look off to the side of the viewscreen, which covered half of Remingtons’ bridge. A hiss of frustration came from the front of the bridge as Dizaria ducked her head behind her console.

Khazara, Fleet Admiral Shar’Reen Khazara of the StarFleet Special Forces, rose to his feet and stepped towards the helm station, causing the leather of his plush command chair to squeak as he rose. Already the computer had adjusted the brightness of the viewscreen to no longer blind the crew. The Romulans’ old eyes looked over the console, which was able to serve two people in case of any other console failures on the bridge. It sat on the right side of the forward console area of the bridge. To the left was navigation, which was currently unmanned and awaiting repairs. He sighed; remembering in his days of working as a lieutenant, in the days of Kirk, Spock, and the original Enterprise, nothing was as complex as this. It had been over a hundred years since then.

Khazara shifted his eyes back on Dizaria then back to the viewscreen.

Fleet Admiral Khazara: “Helm, swing us port behind the shadow of that moon. Then swing us into orbit, keeping Remington in its’ shadow,” he ordered coldly as he had always done before. As all Romulans had done before.

Lt. Dizaria: “Yes, sir.”

Dizaria replied with a delicate sigh, sending her hands sprawling across the console. Quickly the ship shifted about and within moments the pool of light disappeared as Remington fell into darkness. Slowly Khazara walked towards the steps of the observation platform at the front of the bridge. After climbing four steps he stood between the helm console and the ships’ massive viewscreen. He turned, scanning over the bridge from left to right he glanced at the consoles – auxiliary console I, Tactical II, Science, auxiliary console II/Engineering II, Ships’ Master Systems Display, Environmental controls, Operations, and Engineering I.
The bridge was done in dark, efficient colors, typical of StarFleet Special Task Force vessels. Their consoles using the more military blues and greens for LCARS buttons over that of the standard StarFleet vessel amber, yellow, gold, and pink.

Suddenly the read turbolift doors hissed open. Walking in was Chief Engineer Ben Pearman, the expert of Remingtons’ systems. His eyes quickly searched for Khazara, then he hurried down the steps to the command deck of the ship.

Lt. Cmdr. Pearman: “Admiral, we have brought main communication systems back online and I have aligned the deflector to act as a booster to our communications net. We regained signal with the Federation, sir.”

His voice was sharp; crisp, but not lacking the signs of tiredness. He looked to Khazara, smiling. Heavily the Admiral stepped down from the observation deck and towards the command chair, causing him to climb more steps. The Admiral smiled,

Fleet Admiral Khazara: “Thank you, Commander. Once again you have excellent timing.”

Khazara spoke proudly. Pearman, still unsure of Khazara and still trying to familiarize himself with his commander nodded in thanks. Suddenly a console began to ring out a klaxon – there was an incoming priority signal. The engineer and Khazara reeled about. Dizaria too looked over her shoulder.

Fleet Admiral Khazara: “What is it Mr. Pearman?”

Khazara questioned just as the engineer reached his engineering console. No officer was currently at ops, although this time it was not due to console damage. Pearmans’ eyes dashed across the console.

Lt. Cmdr. Pearman: “It is an incoming channel from StarFleet Command, I am trying to clear up the signal.”

Within seconds the viewscreen blipped from the image of the star field to that of Admiral Owen Paris. Standing next to Paris was the long sought out Captain Katherine Janeway. The woman Khazara was sent to find. The two officers smiled. It was obvious the message was several hours old due to the obvious sunlight shining through the windows of Paris’ office while Remingtons’ chronometers indicated it was 4:36 in the morning.

Message: “Shar’Reen, they made it home. The search is over. StarFleet orders the Remington and the Fearless to return home,” said Paris, grinning and looking down to Janeway who was wearing one of the new StarFleet uniforms. “Fleet Admiral, I know what it is like to be stuck out in that space, come home,” she said, smiling.

Just then, the video of the two officers cut, replaced by the insignia of the Federation. Khazara chuckled at the message. His two gloved hands pressed hard against one another as he panned the room, looking to his crew as they stood, facing the viewscreen in shock.