It was quiet on the bridge of the RRW Malem, just like it always was. Quiet and dimly lit. The ship was the prototype and the first to be commissioned from the first flight of advanced escorts that the Romulan Republic had begun producing just over a decade ago. She had been slated to be a part of an exchange program with their Federation allies for about a year prior to actually being deployed.

Recently promoted Capt. Virin, the veteran intelligence and strategic operations officer himself had been a part of an entirely different exchange program, joining dozens of other Starfleet officers who had swapped places with Republic counterparts and served in each other’s military. The 100 year old Vulcan had been on a state strategic security and emergency preparedness Council on New Romulus up until he had been plucked for the assignment as the XO of the Malem.

“Helmsman alter course to bearing 030 mark 451 to avoid any gravimetric shear from that quasar on our starboard bow.” He ordered.

“Aye sir.” The Reman helmsman half hissed as he plotted and engaged on the new course.

Due to delays in the logistics system of the once fledgling republic, the Malem had missed her first refit cycle, and had only been fully refurbished in a Republic Fleet yard a year ago. She had been assigned to serve as an escort and high speed diplomatic courier with Task Force 72 of the Federations 4th Fleet. The vessel also had an objectively oddly crew, much to the chagrin of many senior Republic Navy officers. The CO had agreed on the caveat that he would be allowed to pick his own crew. After all, the assignment with Starfleet was to last for 2 years, and even the beefed up crew only numbered a mere 65 individuals. So that is how it came to be that 52 Remans, 11 Vulcans, and 2 Romulans set forth from the yards at D’deridex, joining the Alpha Alliance’s follow-on forces in the Shackleton Expanse.

Though the major campaign of a few months prior had waned, various diplomatic, humanitarian, exploration as well as Starfleet Corps of Engineers projects were still ongoing. It would be a part of the Malem’s job to keep the vessels on those missions safe. Currently they were traveling spinward, roughly in between the Quorath and Duwalla systems. The ship was patrolling in an area where a few Rogue Free State ships had been detected just 5 weeks ago.

The silence on the bridge continued for another 40 minutes before the Reman as the sensor console reported a contact. A type-T long range freighter running a Federation transponder, a common enough sight in the region.

“Hail the vessel, offer our salutations, and ask if they observed any suspicious vessels during their travels.” Virin said to the communications officer, another Reman.

“Yes, sir.” came the reply.

((Captains Quarters))

The ships CO had been offered the command of the vessel as a part of the continued Romulan/Reman reconciliation effort that had been ongoing ever since the Shinzon Incident of 2 decades prior. Many Remans had joined the Republic in its early days, and had held common cause with D’Tans reunificationists ever since. Still other Remans had joined in droves after the collapse of the Star Empire(Rator). He himself had joined the day the Republic was officially founded 2 decades ago, and was sworn in as a part of the initial officer cadre of the Navy later that evening.

The Commander, like all Remans had a name, but like many Remans his name was never uttered outside of his extended family and almost never in public. To all those he served with he was simply referred to by his rank or station. A brief smile flashes across his lies as he recalled the political maneuver he had partaken in that had led him assembling his hand chosen crew.

The republic political leaders wanted to have a Reman in command of one or more of the vessels that would be sent on exchange to Starfleet to help with public messaging, Reman morale, and no small amount of virtue signalling to the Federation. But The Commander had flipped the script on them by insisting that he be allowed to build his own crew. Unbeknownst to all, he had chosen 52 of his former shock troops and members of his own kin group that just so happened to all be proficient telepaths.

“Commanding officer to the bridge.” Virins voice came across the internal net.

The Commander stood and straightened his iridescent uniform, his tall and lanky frame more then effectively masking the formidable physical and mentalic strength the 70 year old Dominion War veteran possessed.

“Acknowledged.” He said in a cold dry and emotionless tone.