Over the past nine years, Timmoz has gone through a transformation. He was born on Botchok, a world colonized by his Caju, among the Orion Colonies located in Klingon space. Timmoz is unusual being a non-Federation member and part of the Orion species, a rarity for Starfleet. Though much of his past is sealed under Federation Law to protect those who requested asylum, his talents suggest he was resourceful and a capable pilot in his youth.
Netboy to Pilot, to Killer
Crisis of Conscience
Attempted Murder and Escape to Archanis
Rango IX Detention
Asylum 4-077 Status and Ward of the Federation
Qualor II Surplus Yards
In the decade following the destruction of Romulus and Remus in the supernova event, Qualor entered a time of tenuous support from the Federation Starfleet. Admiral Picard’s armada had pulled a few salvageable craft back into service from the yard which left gaps in the surplus depot itself. They would later be filled beyond capacity as Starfleet began rotating out its oldest and least functional classes. Other ships were briefly returned to service to fill gaps left by the destruction of the Utopia Planitia shipyards. Qualor II bustled with activity for once in its lengthy, rather languid lifespan.
But the resources were fairly one-directional, a gripe of the Zakdorn overlords of the Qualor depot. Starfleet tended to send either young, fresh-from-Academy staff or older officers wanting to wind down their careers. But as Starfleet and the Federation pulled back from the former Romulan Neutral Zone, Qualor II saw diminished support. Local independent groups learned that fact quickly.
By 2395 and onward, Qualor II was dealing with increased raids by independent Romulan warlords looking to steal vessels that could catapult their positions over local settlements, Nausicaan raiders, Pakled smugglers and illicit Orion Syndicate drug and weapons trafficking were not far behind, like vultures. Ensign Timmoz was sent to Qualor II because he was fresh out of the Academy and he had personal background in dealing with the Orion Syndicate. Every Syndicate cell was different- and these were not Timmoz’s people- but he did what he could to help advise the Zakdorn and the Federation liaisons of what to expect.
Timmoz’s time at Qualor II was spent chasing down pirates and smugglers, trying to use the depot as a base or a bonanza to procure technology. He was responsible for helping park decommissioned vessels in the yard but most of his time was aboard runabouts patrolling and interdicting trespassers that were using the expansive territory for their own purposes. It was a no-win situation- the black and white mentality of the Zakdorn people, coupled with their distaste for social cohesion, made it a thankless job. Qualor II was known to burn through personnel quickly.
Timmoz tolerated his Zakdorn micromanagers really for the explicit reason that he was still somewhat homesick: the seedy nature of Qualor II’s facilities beyond Zakdorn control had a quality that reminded him of home. In dim, dank dens with snakeroot vapor breaking up gaudy neon, he sensed a kindred quality he’d thought he’d put behind him.
The Devil is temptation and absolute control in one. One morning as Timmoz awoke on Qualor II, he came face to face with that. He’d never been able to truly mourn the loss of his homeworld and family because it mixed with the ruthless Darwinian lean of Orion culture, the venal treachery. Qualor had a harsh mistress in the Zakdorn but it was unseemly under that veneer. In that Timmoz had first found a comfort but that comfort became too much of a crutch- and he was intelligent enough to recognize that. He could have spent twenty years languishing there on a tenuous border, chasing down small fry, and then racking up Dom Jot wins for credits. And, in all likelihood, he never would have seen a rank beyond Lieutenant Junior Grade.
Starfleet was keeping its formal presence quite distant to avoid antagonizing the Romulan Free State and Zakdorn notions of social mobility and promotion were exceptionally harsh. It was time for him to go. If he didn’t, Timmoz would lose whatever dignity he felt he’d built up after Arra-Nysa faked his death to save his life. So he put in for a transfer.
USS Adelphi, Ambassador-class Starship
Timmoz was familiar with the Ambassador-class, albeit that most of them had seen their last refit in the 2360’s or in the months ramping up to a confrontation with the Cardassian-Dominion Alliance. Some of them were battle-derelicts where he had to pilot from a Helm station exposed to space. But he’d been behind their controls and he had at least some idea of their strengths and their limitations. For a month stretch during a particularly sustained game of cat and mouse with Pakled smugglers, he and the runabout team he was a part of used the decommissioned Ambassador-class USS Kerala as a base of operations.