The U.S.S. Retrieve, crashlanded on a destroyed Federation colony after the disastrous battle of Chin'toka, struggles to survive. Will they make it off the planet?
"Are we clear for departure?" Captain Bisset asked through his distinctive French accent.
Commander Rebecka Salome nodded, "Yes, Sir, all systems green." The U.S.S. Retrieve, a Defiant class, shuddered awake under their feet.
"Prepping thrusters," Lt. Andrews said as his fingers tapped across the conn. The Dominion War had only been over for a couple weeks, but the Federation had already sent the message to Starfleet that they were returning to their mission charter, hoping for some sense of normalcy. Everyone was eager to put the bloody catastrophe behind them. No one felt like this more than Captain Luis Bisset.
Just a year ago, he'd watched his Nebula class, the U.S.S. Rapier, burn to ashes in the furnace blaze of the Cardassian front at the first battle of Chin'toka. From his escape pod, he'd witnessed the final moments of his ship's brief life in service. The memory still pained him.
"Thrusters to half, we are lifting off," Lt. Andrews reported. On the viewscreen, Luis could see the scorched-out view of Reproach Colony fall away as the Retrieve slowly gained altitude. Commander Rebecka Salome, looked up from her console, pushing her black hair behind her half-Vulcan ears.
"Structural integrity field is holding," she reported.
"Landing gear retracted," Lt. Andrews added to his running commentary.
Not even a year later, Captain Luis had been given command of the U.S.S. Retrieve for the defense of Chin'toka. Within fifteen minutes from when the battle against the Breen had commenced, the Retrieve had been so badly damaged it registered as a total loss to Dominion sensors. But under Luis' careful direction in those touch-and-go minutes, they had managed to keep the ship together long enough to limp just across the Federation boarder to Reproach colony with half a dozen hull breaches bleeding oxygen and energy to the cold vacuum of space.
In their desperate state, they risked landing the ship in the central square of the decimated colony, which had been destroyed hours earlier by a Jem'Hadar retaliatory strike. Still, in the bleak and hopeless ruins, they were left unmolested by Dominion forces and had a chance to recover their breath, bandage wounds, and bury the dead.
Captain Bisset had lost so many men and women in the last year, that he felt numb burying the Retrieve's unlucky crew members in a nearby field who had lost their lives hours earlier - or were they the lucky ones? No more would they be forced to walk this galaxy in ruins - no more to face the wreckage of the dream they had all aspired to fulfill.
In the days that followed, they assessed the ship's damage and scrounged around enough parts and equipment from the rubble to set about repairs - and rescued several colony survivors who joined the crew's efforts to get the ship space-worthy again.
Like a wounded animal, hope was not on anyone's mind - survival was all that seemed to reside in their thoughts. It took months to get the subspace communications working again, but when at last they made contact with Starfleet, it was on the eve of Allied victory, and they listened with heartbreak and sorrow to the accounts of the tragic battle for Cardassia and the billions of lives it claimed. In bleak silence they labored on until a few days later, they ceasing their efforts and stood still as ice-sculptures - as if afraid by the slightest sound or movement to change the course of the universe - hanging on every word from the live feed of the Dominion's surrender at DS9.
Here, in the wreckage of their hopeless surroundings, silent tears of joy marked the signing of the Treaty of Bajor. The crew's hearts were lifted to Jake Sisko's account echoing through the ship's corridors and through the holo-speakers set up outside the ship for the crew repairing the outer hull. With renewed effort, they set themselves into restoring the Retrieve, restoring their own war-weary hearts with the hope their ship had come to symbolize. Several weeks later, like a phoenix crouched in its nest of ashes, the Defiant class ship was ready to climb into the stars once more.
Orders from Starfleet came to all able-bodied ships: "Locate downed Federation ships and missing personnel from the war-zone." But to the Retrieve, a special mission was delivered: "Boldly go where no one has gone before. Gamma Quadrant."
Starfleet saw the Retrieve as a symbol of hope and the unyielding resiliency of the Federation, and they wanted it to be one of the first ships to return to their mission statement, making its presence felt in the Gamma Quadrant. Looking over his bridge-crew, Luis couldn't help but feel a swell of pride - they had been reborn together and were now leading the way to spreading hope to the Galaxy.
"We're clearing the lower atmosphere, Sir," Lt. Andrews reported. Captain Bisset swiveled his chair back to the viewscreen. The view was breathtaking! The "sun" was breaking over the horizon and the stars and nebulae of the Galaxy glowed faintly behind the sun's glare. Space had never looked so good. It was as if it had been washed from the fear and death of the war - cleansed of all its bloodshed and restored to a place of peace and hope where even the known was once again unknown and needed to visited all over again.
"Any heading you'd like, Sir?" Lt. Andrews asked. Their orders were to the Wormhole, but Luis and the crew needed some time getting their space legs again.
"Second star to the Left, Lt.," he said, "and straight on till evening!" Commander Salome smiled at the affirmed sentiment from another famous explorer - James T. Kirk. As the Retrieve prepared to jump into the stars, Luis smiled and turned around looking in the faces of all his bridge-crew. He could see restored in their expressions what he himself was feeling - hope for the future.
