*“I know well what I am fleeing from but not what I am in search of.”

-Michel de Montaigne*

On the edge of Federation space, bordering the neutral zone, a small Romulan freighter struggled to remain at warp. “Fvadt” (Damn it.) the Captain said, rising from the centre chair. “We can’t keep this up. How much longer?” The young woman at the helm looked back at him, maintaining a steady voice despite the fear she felt and said “Not long. We’ll be in Federation space in…” she consulted her console “two minutes. Elements help us.”

The ship dropped out of warp, its engines capable of no more. They had made it, but they had emerged to face a Starfleet vessel. The Captain put his hand on the helmsman’s shoulder. “Either the Elements have saved us. Or doomed us. Hail them.”

Onboard the USS Olympic, the view screen lit up. =/\=Captain. We have no time for formalities. I hope, I pray, we’re in the right place. We come seeking asylum. Asylum from the oppression of The Tal’Shiar.=/\=

-Matrix