What Remains

Posted on Tue Jul 14th, 2026 @ 2:30am by Lieutenant Korvek tr'Velar
Edited on on Tue Jul 14th, 2026 @ 2:59am

1,652 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Year One: The Point of No Return
Location: Runabout Amazon
Timeline: MD012 - 0012 hours

The low hum of the runabout's warp engines were a steadying comfort as the small ship headed towards an intercept of the USS Moore. The interior lights were dimmed in respect of the chronometer's late hour, though the LCARS glowed warmly still and reflected in the broad windows of the cockpit. The steady chirps and beeps of the computer systems and sensors had been nearly muted too, giving the space a subdued, calm sort of atmosphere for this late night.

Night. Korvek thought it was kind of silly, this arbitrary delineation between 'day' and 'night', when on a ship not orbiting any star, on his own schedules and routines that didn't exactly match up. Just one of many little quirks that he still noticed about serving in Starfleet. Their adherence to natural rhythms of Earth most often, regardless of where someone was actually from, was one of countless small traditions he still found himself observing and trying to understand. Not that he was much better, if he were being fair, though perhaps he had a bit of an easier time adjusting, a bit more stamina than the average. It was those rhythms and the 'night mode' that made him turn to the runabout's pilot to ask a question.

"Will it disturb you, Ensign Garcia, if I make a call at this...hour?" he turned to the bronzed-skinned woman in the pilot's chair.

"Oh, no sir, go right ahead," she said, glancing over with a smile. The Cuban woman had been polite, though Korvek thought she smiled a bit too much. Polite, and professional, and they were making good time. That was enough for him. "If anything, it'll be nice to break the silence a bit, if you don't mind me overhearing."

"I do not mind," Korvek said simply with a neutral nod. At least, he didn't think there would be anything she shouldn't hear in the conversation he was about to have. Not that he was hiding anything in particular from Starfleet either. His long fingers touched the commands to bring the subspace antennae array to focus, and he keyed in the frequency address with a few, efficient taps.

One of the small screens along the wall lit up a few moments later, revealing another Romulan man, along with a brilliant blue sky with some scattered clouds, and the partial view of some tents behind him. The other Romulan didn't smile, neither did Korvek, though it was good to see him again.

"Subcommander Yorvin," he said, adjusting his tone to deliver the appropriate amount of respect and deferral. Even after all these years, it was easy to slip back into those ways. "Jolan tru."

"Jolan tru Lieutenant Korvek, though I am no longer a subcommander," came the curt response. Korvek winced ever so slightly at the subtle rebuff. He had meant it as a term of respect to the man he'd once worked so closely with on the Vhaedriss. But that had been a Human affectation. To a Romulan, using a rank for a military structure that no longer existed, it was a reminder.

Korvek bowed his head slightly, acknowledging the correction and making the appropriate gesture that he understood. Yorvin raised his head a fraction, inviting him to move on. Garcia hadn't picked up on any of the undercurrent. "How are the mornings on Calder II?"

"Cold, and getting colder, though today has had a fine enough start," Jorvin said, more at ease as they pushed past the unintended insult. "The planet is approaching its winter cycle."

"And, how are the Rihannsu?" Korvek used the appropriate word this time, careful not to make another conversational mistake.

"That, will be long in the telling." Yorvin took a deep breath, sighed and shook his head. The connection wavered a moment, the screen filled with a second of static before it stabilized. "Things are not going well, old friend..."

Over the next several minutes, Yorvin described their situation at the massive refugee camp setup on this dismal, backwater world that barely supported life. The Federation aid had dwindled to a trickle. URC convoys were still arriving when they could, but they were stretched thin. Food was being rationed, children were still receiving enough but many adults had tightened their belts. Medicine was worse, and various illnesses as the Declared from more than a dozen worlds mingled and spread disease. Power the worst of all, the fusion generators they had couldn't sustain light, heat, and sanitation, let alone replication, not for the millions of refugees living in the camp.

Things were bad, and they were slowly getting worse. The once proud race of conquerors were now reduced to this, relying on the grace and generosity of former enemies, and even then, it was not enough.

There were those who outright advocated to refuse any kind of aid, accepting charity being the humiliation that it was, one that put them in obligation to their benefactors, even if it meant a slower death than the Supernova had given most of their species. Old political tensions hadn't been left behind in the ashes of the homeworld. There were constant arguments and frequent fights over questions of leadership and authority, accusations and suspicion were even more rampant than illness. Young adults were forming gangs, using intimidation and violence to steal food or just throw their weight around in vainglorious and embarrassing behavior.

Korvek's jaw was tight as he listened, his teeth ached from how he ground them together. The intense frustration - no, fury - he felt was so impotent. So much was wrong, and there was so little he could do about it.

"The people survived the loss of our homes. Our government. Our empire. Our very way of life. Is there not some hope that we can endure this as well?" We, he said, though he sat here well fed and warm, dressed in the uniform of an enemy. Not his enemy, but Yorvin was kind enough not to point that out.

Before his old shipmate from the war could respond, Ensign Garcia spoke up, her bright voice an unexpected and unwelcome intrusion. "I'm so sorry, Lieutenant. I really feel for you, and all Romulans. I wish I could-"

"No offense ensign," Korvek said flatly as he watched Yorvin's eyes glance off to the side, ignoring the embarrassing interaction, or trying to. "Your sympathy isn't worth much, and your wishes for my people even less." It was a hard statement, and maybe a little cruel as he watched her eyes widen with surprise and a little bit of hurt. But what was her pain compared to that of the Romulan people?

"I... um... we're about ten minutes out from the Moore now, sir," she fumbled her way back into duty.

Korvek could appreciate that, as duty was all he had remaining too. He lightened the tightness of his voice, "Very good, ensign. You are to be commended-" Korvek cut off. Even just a few minutes spent talking to a former member of the Romulan Navy, and he was back to the old ways. "I mean, you did an excellent job getting us here so fast. I will put in a good word with your CO, and you have my personal thanks as well."

That seemed to settle the young woman somewhat and she nodded gratefully before focusing on her controls.

Yorvin had waited politely for him to return his attention to the screen. "How goes your efforts, old friend?"

Korvek moved his head slightly from side to side, "I've written another dozen worlds and their governments that own them. So far, two have responded with vague noises of sympathy-" And they'd just seen how Romulans were likely to respond to that, and Korvek was a lot more patient than most of them these days. "-while two others may actually be serious in setting up negotiations, but are uncomfortable given my position and the lack of clear unity among our people. I will transmit the data to you of course, but I suspect these will go the same way as well as the others."

Failures, he meant, to try to find a new world for their people. A place where, maybe, they could begin to rebuild. Or build something new. The Star Empire was gone, burned out of the universe and never to return. Korvek believed any attempt to revive it would only lead to disaster. So did Yorvin, and the others in their small circle of small influence and camaraderie. The path forward was a new life, as members of the galactic community, not as conquerors, and not isolated and alone.

"You are almost to your new ship," Yorvin said, just a touch of envy tinging his voice and eyes. Korvek nodded once. "You will do well, Korvek. It is good for you to be around your kind."

"You are my kind too," came the immediate response, and Yorvin actually smiled in return.

"There was a time when you would have denied the Human half. Progress, old friend. All of us must forge ourselves anew for the coming calamities. The galaxy groans under the weight of too many problems, and our people, you included, yes, must be strong to face what is coming."

Korvek inclined his head deeply, acknowledging and accepting the other man's wisdom. There was so much more they might say, about their time together as shipmates, their alliances and machinations, their genuine friendship amidst a culture where offering such was often such a risk. But that wasn't their way, especially on an unsecured frequency with Ensign Garcia watching out of the corner of her eye thinking they didn't notice.

"Jolan tru, Yorvin," Korvek said with some finality.

"Jolan tru, Korvek." The screen went blank, and Korvek sat back in his chair to brood during the final approach to the Moore.

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