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     Com. William Daren |
“Captain Kirk, I thought Romulan Ale was illegal!” “One of the advantages of being a thousand light-years from the Federation.” * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Coronado plunged deeper into the hostile nebula shadowed by Commodore Daren’s small fleet of escort ships. The mission, ever since discovering the Xur presence in the nebula, had become a series of heated encounters in the mist. On more than one occasion, Coronado had taken enough damage in a surprise attack to be knocked off her slipstream course. The increased frequency of attacks is precisely what prompter Daren to send a lone fighter pilot to gather the small fleet to his side. With the latest batch of quick repairs completed, they had gone to slipstream just as a light-speed transmission from Lieutenant Somansky reached them. For a few seconds it was there, and then it was gone – only to return a bit later. One hour later… “Captain, Somansky’s message seems to have caught up to our location.” Colonel Prescot reported from the Mission Ops station. “It’s tagged Priority One, Special.” Daren looked over. “I’ll take it in my ready room.” He stood up, walked past the helm station toward the doorway. “Hold this course Ms. D’rall, no sign of the Xur for over an hour, it must be a sign.” He paused. “You have the bridge, Colonel.” Daren didn’t like the premonition he was having. If the fleet had sent Somansky to the nebula to deliver some message for him, it likely meant some change in the mission parameters. In a way, he welcomed whatever change the mission might be taking. After over 2 weeks in the claustrophobic blue gas, Daren was ready to pull his hair right out of his skull. He’d tried his best not to show it, but he knew various members of the crew had undoubtedly begun to detect the difference in his Command tact recently. This transmission, here and now, reeked of bad news. And bad news always had a way of catching up, no matter how you try to dodge it. He reached across the desk and played the communication. It took him more than a few minutes to get through the data contained in the packet. There was a preface set of data from the Whitestone Flag, a holographic communication feed containing a speech by a President Jason Rommety of Reor while surrounded by what looked to be representatives from most of the M64 races Daren could quickly recall plus the familiar faces of Rear Admirals Lora Kor and Brian Aldur, and General Ironside. The packet finished with a closing set of data directed specifically to himself in which he was informed to make the good faith act of turning the command of Coronado over to Lieutenant Maiko D’rall and return immediately to Reor’sa. For nearly two minutes after reviewing the entire packet, Daren stared blankly at the screen. His unfocused eyes darted to the left, then to the right, and back again in silent, enraged contemplation. They seemed to be searching for the reason behind such a bold maneuver on behalf of the Reorsan President. Forming an M64 planetary Alliance and calling for the immediate stand down of all Milky Way-Starfleet vessels and crew in their space seemed incredibly insolent. One would think you would treat colleagues a bit better than that. Add to this the dire circumstances threatening the very existence of the M64 galaxy, and you have one very bad day. Daren swiveled his chair away from the desk to the wall behind it. If he were on Deck One, he would be staring out a large window to the thick swirling stellar gasses outside, but he was on Deck Nine – an internal and fortified section of the ship. Instead of the window, this Ready Room on Deck Nine had a simple wall with a large painting of the Katana-class Frigate USS Coronado. The very ship he had just been informed he needed to turn over to the Reorsans. Daren took an obscene amount of offense to the communication he had just read. He had problems with the M64 galaxy since the moment he found himself stranded in it so many years ago. He had watched as countless others around him made a home for themselves, embraced the people and the culture of Reor’sa so easily – even making it worthy of the highest protection from such an implacable foe as the Pfhor. The day William Daren found himself in M64 he was stranded, and he was stranded still today. According to the communication, his entire command structure had stripped themselves of their ranks when faced with the Rommety’s demands. Without even thinking, he ran a hand along the Starfleet insignia on his chest. It wouldn’t come off so easily for him, not even close. It was the symbol his father, Robert, had died wearing, and it would be the symbol he carried with him to the grave as well. With his hand already in place, he activated the badge. “Daren to Commander Tal. Join me in my Ready Room at once!” While he waited, he thought of exactly how he was going to deal with this new problem. And silently he hoped the route they were on stayed devoid of Xur ships. Commodore William Daren Commanding Officer (IC) USS Coronado NCC-97901 Sim Executive Officer http://www.jestertrek.com/coro2400/bodies/depts/command.html#co |