[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/2KMGeVz.png[/img]
[i]I heard my country calling, away across the sea,
Across the waste of waters, she calls and calls to me.
Her sword is girded at her side, her helmet on her head,
And around her feet are lying the dying and the dead;
I hear the noise of battle, the thunder of the guns;
I haste to thee, my mother, a son among thy sons.[/i][/center]

[b][center][color=DC143C][h2]CHAPTER ONE: THE ROMULAN CRISIS[/h2][/color][/center][/b]

[b]Somewhere near the Neutral Zone
USS VIGILANCE
STARDATE 64607[/b]

[i] "-Romulan refugee ships have begun to filter across the Neutral Zone. Starfleet ships have been dispatched to assist in aid operations, which is becoming the greatest humanitarian crisis of the Alpha Quadrant's history. Here with us is-"

"-Defense Minister Thuzok Rossah has announced that the joint Klingon-Federation task force has entered Romulan space and is proceeding to make contact with the Romulan Provisional Government in the Hasseleh system. The Romulan Provisional Government consists of former sen-"

"-in soccer , Vulcan has beat Earth 5-4 in the third round of the Federation Cup. They will proceed onto play the Saurians in the next match tomorrow. We'll now take it to T'Pra for the latest stock exchan-"[/i]

Captain Strenn switched off the newsreader. It was all too much. He sat in silence in his ready room, the stars streaming past the large window above the settee. A cup of herbal tea, made from leaves grown in the arid deserts of the Forge, was slowly losing its warmth on the table before him. The Vulcan Captain's mind was racing, far faster than he could handle with his nearly five decades of carefully constructed mental walls. His father would be utterly ashamed that his eldest son could not keep his emotions in check, but how could he? Strenn had been aboard the [i]T'Kumbra[/i], in fact had been her Executive Officer, when it was destroyed on that fateful day above Cardassia. Captain Solok, that brave officer, went down with the ship and with most of the crew. Strenn, for his bravery, was promoted to Captain and awarded the highest award the Federation can bestow. Strenn, however, considered it an insult, even contemplated on resigning his commission. But that would not logical, since Starfleet needed experienced officers now more than ever.

And so that's what brought him to this lofty position as a Commanding Officer of a cruiser, no matter how aged she might be. It was a high responsibility to be a starship captain, and he felt the pressure sit heavily upon his shoulders now that he was sitting in the central seat. But the question "What would Solok do?" raged in his mind every time he made a decision, even if it was 'Boats, ahead warp five.' Solok was a true Starfleet officer, and more, he was a true Vulcan. Strenn, on the other hand, was only a fair facsimile.

The great pressure of being a starship captain weighed even more knowing that the [i]Vigilance[/i] would be a high-profile ship, certainly subjected to scrutiny from the highest levels of Starfleet. The actions that the 12th Fleet, now temporarily renamed the Joint Federation-Klingon Peacekeeping Task Force for the Romulan Empire - or simply the Joint Task Force, would take - or not take - would be analyzed from every angle. The stakes were incredibly high, and for Strenn, it seemed too much. 

Why had he come back to Starfleet at all? The Vulcan Diplomatic Institute had even offered him a tenured teaching position, disregarding his youthful rejection of the stuffy university for the future in the stars that Starfleet promised. It certainly wasn't the money, for he had enough of that, and it wasn't because he enjoyed space, because he had seen enough of it. He found it difficult to isolate exactly why, in the churning waters of his mind. The storm continued to rage and send electric bolts flying every-which-way in his brain, with no end in sight.

The door buzzed, breaking through the clouded thoughts of the Vulcan captain. 

"Enter."

[center][h1][b]***[/b][/h1][/center]

Commander Udrus Ahrume, Executive Officer of USS [i]Vigilance[/i], entered into the ready room of his Commanding Officer. It would be his first time meeting face-to-face with Captain Strenn, who had suspiciously secluded himself in the two weeks that they had been on the ship, getting the heavy cruiser shook down in preparation for what the papers were now calling "Operation Vanguard," the largest peacekeeping mission in known history. It sounded like horse-shit to him, but what did he know? 

"Good afternoon, sir," Commander Udrus stood at attention as he entered into the cramped ready room, which was little more than an office desk, a settee with a coffee table, and a replicator mounted to a wall. Nothing adorned those walls, typically spartan as most Vulcans tended to be. Udrus made notes of his surroundings as he stood in those brief seconds before reporting, and did a glance down upon his own uniform. His Service Uniform was immaculate, pressed with no lint or dust hairs, and his shoes were so polished you could see the streaking stars on the toes. Not that if mattered if he was unsat, since he couldn't change it by then anyway, "We've crossed the Neutral Zone, and entered Romulan Space."

The Vulcan looked up from his gaze, firmly locked on the tea cup sitting on the table, and locked eyes with his First Officer. Commander Udrus, though no telepath, knew the thoughts running through that analytical Vulcan's mind. He would, by now, be recalling that this Bajoran Rebel-turned-Starfleet Officer had a track record the size of some small holonovels, most of all that damned business on the [i]Albatross [/i]with that Cardie frigate. 

If the Vulcan asked for an explanation, he mused to himself, then he would simply tell him that he only regretted that he did not kill the lot of them when he had the chance.

But instead of demanding that he explained in detail why he hated the Cardassian Race so much, the Vulcan simply rose to his feet and spoke one word, "Good...." and without further discussion led the way back onto the bridge. Udrus noted, in the back of his mind, that this Vulcan was perhaps the most peculiar he had ever known. Even more strange than that bastard Stavath. 

One thing was certain, Vulcans were hard to get along with, and even harder to understand.

[center][h1][b]***[/b][/h1][/center]

Of all the things he would wish to deal with, a Disciplinary Review Board was certainly not one of them. The CMC hated those, even more so than when he was a junior sailor. Now on the inside looking out, it was such a tedious process and almost wholly unnecessary. A show of theatrics that younger chiefs and senior chiefs indulged in, that he found no similar need to do.

The latest was that of Yeoman, Third Class Daniel Joachimshalter. The recently-frocked Petty Officer made a fool of himself while on duty, sneaking off to his berthing and nipping at some smuggled whiskey he brought aboard. When assuming his watch station, the sailor he was relieving immediately smelled the alcohol on his breath and reported it to their LPO, who escalated the situation to necessitate a DRB. Ultimately, and all but assured, YN3 Joachimshalter was recommended for an XOI board, where CMC Ch'oviaval would have to see his face again. And surely after that, he would see him once more at Captain's Mast, when that same Third Class would get placed on liberty restriction, half months' pay, and the host of other punishments that could be meted out.

As the CMC made his way up from the Third Deck, where the DRB had taken place, to the Bridge, he thought about some of the more unusual punishments he had seen given to sailors while in Starfleet. There was that one time on the [i]Idaho[/i], when his LPO, BM1 Conta, had been caught running a gambling ring in his berthing. Instead of giving him the normal restriction, half months' pay, and Extra Military Instruction, BM1 Conta had his designated replicator meals restricted to bread and water only for a month. 

CMC Ch'oviaval smiled to himself, remembering those bygone times with some fondness. Whatever happened to that old Tellarite anyway? Surely, he was either a CMC like Byn or out of Starfleet entirely by now. Perhaps, though, he was one of the untold billions who did not survive the Dominion onslaught which claimed so many. 

The CMC entered the Bridge just as the official hand-off of the Watch from the Officer of the Deck to Captain Strenn was concluded, so his entrance was unnoticed except by the glances of some of the petty officers manning their stations. Certainly none of the junior - or for that matter senior - officers noticed the Command Master Chief enter. Not that he minded much anyway.

Captain Strenn, standing to the right of the Captain's chair but for some reason refusing to take a seat, turned towards the Communications Station, where Chief Operations Specialist Kernaghan was awaiting his orders, "Chief, put [i]Courageous[/i] through."

"Aye, aye, sir." OSC Kernaghan replied simply and obediently, and with a slight move of hand, the viewscreen that once showed stars was replaced with the bridge of the Sovereign-class starship, the flagship of the Task Force. At the center of the screen was Commodore Doma, a grizzled Bolian and a veteran of the War. [i]Vigilance [/i]must have been the last to connect, for shortly after he was put on the viewscreen the Commodore began his speech.

"All Starfleet and Federation vessels, we are about to undertake a mission unlike any other in the Alpha Quadrant's history. The eyes of thousands of species are upon you today, the hopes and dreams of billions of souls depending upon your adherence to duty. I expect every sailor in my task force to be model Starfleet servicemembers, and to act in accordance with the Starfleet Creed. We represent the Federation, and we cannot let these people down. Captains, you will receive a coded transmission detailing your specific operational goals." The Commodore paused, "I wish you all the best of luck. Godspeed!"

The screen was replaced by the eternal starscape of deep space, displaying a region of space that had not been traveled by Starfleet since the days of the Earth-Romulan War. "I'll be in my ready room. Commander, you have the bridge." Strenn rose, and without doing the formal trade-off of the Watch with the Executive Officer, disappeared into his ready room as quickly as he had come onto the bridge. The bridge staff was stupefied by the quick disappearance of their Captain into the ready room, none moreso than Ch'oviaval, who had been used to ostentatious and eccentric Captains using every opportunity to "show their feathers."

The strangeness of the incident, however, was quickly lost as the bridge staff returned to duty. Except the CMC, who locked eyes with the XO as both seemed unsure of what to do next.