Cptn Corizon

When the smoke cleared, and the debris field of the Borg cube was being searched, Corizon stood upon the observation deck of Spacedock, staring at the ruined remains of the Sussex.

 

She’d taken quite a pounding. Hull breaches riddling her saucer section—a gapping whole through her weapons pod. He wondered how they’d managed to survive.

 

Sighing he turned away from the ruined remains. While the Sussex wasn’t his ship, he was deeply troubled by the amount of damage the fleet had suffered in the battle. Though it hadn’t crippled the Federation, losing forty to fifty ships was a significant blow, especially to the core area they were assigned to protect. And with the new Dominion presence in the Quadrant, he had a sinking feeling they could use every ship they could have at their disposal.

 

Little did he know how right he was going to be, with in a few months, the Dominion War broke into all out carnage.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Standing aboard the Lotus as he entered the wormhole, on his was to Camelot. He realized how his life constantly seemed to be at the whim of larger forces. As he passed beneath the gateway to the Gamma Quadrant, he suddenly wished he’d died on the Sussex.

 

No one should have to see the thing he’d seen. Do the things he done. He’d sent young men and women on countless missions during the Dominion War. He’d gotten many of them killed. And for what? To a win war, to save the Federation.

 

That’s always what he told himself. But as he’d come to realize, especially when his own planet was besieged by the Dominion hoard, all empires fall.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Watching the massive Dominion Dreadnaught move into position, and reading reports of uprisings across the quadrant, Corizon couldn’t help but wonder if the Dominion’s time had finally come.

On the bridge of the Nebula-class USS Sussex, anxiety filled the air. It was so thick; the commander of the Sussex could have sliced it with his claws. Before him approached the fiercest enemy the Federation had ever encountered. After six years, the Borg had returned.

 

A thousand thoughts filled Commander Ah-Windu Corizon’s head. A silent prayer streamed through his lips. Bracing himself, emotionally and physically, he glanced at the viewscreen, then to the tactical officer.

 

Corizon had command of the Sussex thrust upon him. In the rush to mass a fleet to counter the Borg threat, Vice-Admiral Hayes had grabbed every officer he could find in a two-sector area and tossed them on any ship space worthy.

 

The Sussex had been no exception. When Corizon was introduced to her for the first time, she was setting aloft in Spacedock, minus a crew. She was in the queue for a major overhaul of her sensor network that was expected to take five to six months, and most of her crew had been reassigned to other vessels.

 

He’d been given a ragtag skeleton crew of mostly fourth year cadets and handful of seasoned security officers to man the Sussex with, and hopefully to survive the battle.

 

When he first stepped onto the vessel, he found corridors strewn with ODN Conduit, deck plates missing, and only about thirty photon torpedoes—none of which he found acceptable. They had less than seventeen hours to get the Sussex out of Spacedock and into position in the Typhon-sector. How exactly he was supposed to that eluded him at first.

 

Several communications to officers at Utopia Planetia, McKinley Station, Spacedock, Starfleet Command…and anyone else who owed him favors later and few well placed growls, and he had a full compliment of torpedoes loaded aboard. Though the messy corridors were something he’d have to accept, he supposed.

 

Six hours after Corizon took command of the Sussex, the squat, compact explorer exited Spacedock, headed for a mission far from exploration…though Corizon noted discovery was on the horizon. The makeshift crew was about to find out exactly what they were made off.

 

We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your ships. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile.

 

The eerie monotone voice that had come to haunt billions of people across billions of worlds echoed across the bridge of the Sussex. His claws reflexively grasped at the arms of his command chair. A low, dark growl seethed between his clinched jaw, “Over my dead body.”

 

The young helmsman before him smiled. “Awaiting you orders, sir.”

 

Corizon nodded. The Sussex had been positioned in the middle of the fleet. The object was simple, destroy the Borg cube at all costs; nothing else mattered but destroying the cube. All other concerns were secondary. The crew needed no reminder of that.

 

The Tactical officer looked over at Corizon. “Sir,” his voice tinged with angst. “Admiral Hayes has ordered all vessels to engage the Borg.”

 

Corizon nodded. “All Hands,” Corizon’s own voice firm and unyielding. “We ride!”

 

The opening moments of the battle zoomed by, but quickly the undermanned Federation fleet found itself scrambling falling back towards Earth. The Sussex managed to escape heavy damage in the initial encounter, with Corizon skillfully having the squat vessel make quick strafing runs at high speeds. The downside being that the Sussex could not unleash large volleys of torpedoes at any one time.

 

Once the Borg Cube entered the system, and finally slowed, and the battle heated. The Federation forces became more desperate. Later Corizon would admit it was the only time in his life, which he found himself running out of tactical maneuvers.

 

“Bring us about!” Corizon shouted loudly, his bridge filled with smoke. “Helm, full speed ahead. Pattern….Delta Nine-Four Titan!”

 

“Tactical,” barking, “Bring weapons to bear on my mark. Give’em everything we got.”

 

“Sir,” the tactical officer, the third officer to fill that station since the beginning of the battle, by Corizon’s reckoning, cried. “Phasers are offline, Torpedo tubes 3-5 offline…”

 

Corizon growled loudly, but found himself flat against the floor as a Borg torpedo slammed against the saucer section. As he pushed himself off the deck, another voice…number four…called out. “Sir, there’s another ship incoming!”

 

“On screen…”

 

Before him was the most beautiful starship he’d ever laid eyes upon. The Sovereign-class USS Enterprise was pounding the Borg Cube. “I’ll be damned…”

 

The rest of the officers watched on with pride as the Enterprise began turning the tide of the battle. “Incoming transmission,” an officer called. “It’s Captain Picard…”

 

Corizon had met the man only once, but roundly acknowledged him to be not only one of the finest Captain’s he’d ever met, but also one of the best tacticians. “Go ahead…”

 

“He’s assuming Command of the Fleet, Admiral Hayes’ ship has been disabled.”

 

Corizon nodded, finally returning to his charred command seat. “Status report.”

 

“Shields are offline, impulse engines down to 25%, phasers are offline, torpedo tubes 3-5 and 7 are offline.”

 

Again nodding, Corizon looked over to the tactical officer, then to the helm officer. “Bring us around.”

 

“Captain Picard is ordering all vessels to target coordinates on the Cube…”

 

“Bring us about; put us on the flank of the Enterprise.”

Welcome Back! :P

When the Governor had finished with his explanation of his encounter with the Changeling Hundred, which, if he did say so himself, was rather cryptic; not that Corizon blamed the Governor in the least, Kilana had nearly came out of her seat at the very notion of the Klingons and Romulans keeping a Founder prisoner, even if he was the enemy.

 

Holding the railing, Corizon made his way up the staircase and onto the CNC, glancing around for Sprint. “Commander,” his voice flat and neutral, “status report?”

 

“We’ve received a transmission from Morningstar,” Sprint affirmed. “They’ve entered the Nebula, and the 72 hour clock is running.”

 

Corizon nodded. “How long do they have now?”

 

Glancing to the status monitor on his console which had the running timer displayed, “70 Hours and 15 minutes.”

 

Nodding once more, Corizon made his way to the Admin console and entered his access code, once again taking operational control of the terminal. “Anything else to report?”

 

“Yes,” Sprint said evenly. “The Yorktown just arrived a few minutes ago.”

 

“Very well,” Corizon said as he tapped on the console. “Have the Yorktown take up position… Alpha J-112/A.”

 

“Understood.”

 

“Tell the fleet to go to Tactical Alert Status One.”

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

Corizon went back to looking at his consol, flipping through his messages and memos. His eyes ran across one which caused his ears to flip to either side. “Oh, this is going to make the Governor a happy camper.”

 

Turning, eyebrow lifted, “Oh,” Sprint said sheepishly. “I thought you should be the one to give him that.”

 

“Funny,” Corizon said with a sly grin. “I was just about to say the same thing.”

 

“Tell who what?”

 

Corizon turned at hearing the unmistakable voice of Governor K’Vorlag.

 

Assuming a serious demeanor, Corizon tried of to think of the…diplomatic way to do this…

Mission Brief: The USS Morningstar has arrived at the edge of the Onarris Expanse and is preparing to enter.

012206.txt

To: Personnel Office

Starfleet Command, Earth

 

From: Commander Ah-Windu Corizon

Camelot Station, Commanding Officer

 

Re: E.J. Pilot

--------------------------------------------------------------

 

This communique is to serve as notice that effective Stardate 0601.22, Lt. E.J. Pilot has been promoted to fill the position of Chief Medical Officer vacated by Lt. Commander Elaine Delgado. This decision comes after extended review of his service and dedication to the U.S.S. Excalibur and Morningstar. It is a pleasure to have such a capable officer aboard and I sincerely hope we will profit from his assistance in the future.

::thinks about this::

 

Wait...isn't ACMO and AMO the same thing? Oh, yeah they are. :blink:

Question is would they consider a retired fossel like me who has found fun in other pastures...Not likely:-P

of course we would!

After a few hours sleeping on a small couch in his other office—Corizon had yet to establish himself with real quarters aboard Camelot—the surly visage of the Dameon reappeared on the command deck of Camelot behind the Admin console, filing through reports and transmissions.

 

The Chief of Engineering, a man Corizon trusted…if for no other reason than he’d been hand picked by Sorehl…had just about finished with getting the weapons systems fully active; something that would likely allow Corizon to sleep easier, though none of the crew were holding their breath.

 

Though he’d wanted to run a full test on the entire defensive grid, he’d settled for the quickie version to make sure they had all their ducks in a row—naturally, they’d nearly blown the entire station up, thus the Engineers were now frantically working to fix their mistakes.

 

A small sigh slipped from between his lips, as he heard Sprint approaching. “You better have good news,” Corizon said lowly. “Other wise…”

 

Sprint shook his head noncommittally. “We’ve finished evacuating the civilian population to Avalon and set them up in temp shelters.”

 

“Well,” Corizon sighed. “That’s a positive thing.”

 

Sprint nodded and took up his usual spot a few feet away. Perhaps another thirty minutes passed before another interruption stopped the flow of somber business in CNC. Corizon had stepped away from his Admin console and was hovering over the holographic display in the center of the room, working on defense strategy when a long shadow covered the entire CNC.

 

Reflexivly, Corizon looked up towards the oculus directly above him. Instead of stars, all he saw was the distinctive grey and purple hue of a Dominion vessel. “That’s odd…”

 

Sprint had a similar look on his face, “Commander,” he said with some alarm. “I am detecting another squadron of Dominion vessels entering the system.”

 

Ears flat, Corizon marched over to his Admin console and put the fleet on screen. “Bloody…”

 

“They’re hailing…”

 

“On screen…”

 

The view screen flashed and the pale figure of a Vorta appeared on the screen. “Greetings.”

 

Corizon scowled. “Welcome to Camelot Station.”

 

“I am Kilana,” her voice typical of Vorta, intrinsically weak and lacking emotion. “With Weyoun in the Alpha Quadrant, I have been dispatched, with further reinforcements, as a temporary liaison to Camelot Station.”

 

“Think you brought a big enough ship?”

 

A slight, though contrived smile appeared on her face. “I will beam aboard, and then our fleet will assume defensive positions, as you deem fit.”

 

Corizon nodded ever so slightly. “As you may have noticed we’ve transferred all civilian and diplomatic personnel off station to Avalon. I ask only that you keep your Jem’Hadar contingent small.”

 

“Of course,” she replied quickly. “I would also appreciate a briefing as to Camelot’s current tactical situation.”

 

“There will be one at 0700 station time at the Round Table.”

 

Again she nodded, and the symbol of the Dominion appeared on the screen before diminishing and the image of the tactical group appeared again. Corizon’s eyes swept over the image again; he glanced to Sprint.

 

“A Dominion Dreadnought…”

 

“They must be getting serious about this civil war,” Corizon said gravely. “According to our best intel, only a dozen or so of those things even exist…”

 

“4000 plus meters…”

 

Shaking his head, Corizon examined the behemoth. The vessel was truly massive; it dwarfed the Federation and smaller Romulan vessels—and in comparison even a warbird looked small. The exact tactical capabilities and armament was completely unknown even to ATAG, mostly because during the over ten years the Federation had dealt with the Dominion, the massive leviathans had been seen only once…during the final assault on Cardassia.

 

He could only imagine what terrors lay beneath the skin of the vessel. “Who needs a station when you’ve got one of those around?”

STSF Community,

 

The USS Excalibur command staff wishes to announce that it is looking for a player(s) to fill the following positions: AMO, ASEC and ASCI.

 

Assistant positions report to their respective department heads, and can specialize in a wide variety of roles with in their departments. (All specialization pending Command approval.)

 

If you think you might be interested in one these positions, please e-mail STSF Personnel at [email protected] and request an additional posting or first posting. These positions are open to all members of STSF who are graduates of the STSF Academy.

 

The Command Staff is also looking for a wide variety of guest characters to fill various roles aboard Camelot Station. These roles can be anything from station personnel to civilians operating shops on the stations promenade.

 

If you’re interested, please send an email to Commander Corizon at [email protected] and Admiral Day at [email protected] with the sims that you are currently simming on and your highest rank held, as well as your idea for a guest character. These positions are open to all members of STSF who have served aboard an Advanced Simulation longer than three months. NOTE: Not everyone who requests a guest post will be given one, there are a limited number of opportunities, and the Excalibur Command staff will review each applicant thoroughly, before announcing a decision.

 

Sincerely,

The USS Excalibur Command Staff

Speaking for the Excalibur:

 

I post the chatlogs and email them to the crew on a weekly basis.

 

USS Excalibur Crew Policies: http://www.stsf.net/forums/index.php?showtopic=8365

USS Excalibur Information: http://www.stsf.net/forums/index.php?showtopic=8366

 

Also on the boards, as well as our website, you can find information about the Mornignstar, Camelot Station, the Romulan Fleet, and a database to our logs (which, I give much thanks to Tachyon for setting that up, and Moore for the idea.)

 

 

I can tell you for a fact, that when you join Excalibur (and I think this is a lot of ships) new players get baraged with emails. I know right now you get like five from me the first day!

 

The problem of course, is that we don't want to scare the new player off. Incidently, I am actually thinking of a good idea that I think would go along with this, at least something I am now thinking about putting togather in my welcome packet.

 

 

Huff puts togather the mission briefings/recaps of the current plot arc, do you think that would help let new players know what's going on?

 

 

PS: On the subject of Chatlogs, I'd like to mention that not everyone has the amount of time to edit the chatlogs as I do. Because the chat log is of everything in the chat, it can often be very time consuming to edit out all the stuff to get to your game, especially if there is another game or academy during your sim.

Mission Brief: The frieghter Aquaran has came up missing, the Morningstar has been ordered to go find it, put first, the senior staff will be briefed. Meanwhile the rest of the crew prepares to depart.

011506.txt

Corizon watched as the Morningstar slipped out of the shroud of Avalon and off towards the Onarris Expanse. If all went well, they would return with the passengers of the Aquaran and hopefully some information on the Hundred. And if all went to the worst, he’d find himself writing alot of lot letters—too many letters.

 

His claws flicked over the console, as he pushed that thought from his mind—there was too much at stake now for emotional grievances.

 

Reports were now coming in from all over the Dominion. Civil War seemed to be high on the horizon, and a red dawn seemed inevitable. Not twenty minutes after Morningstar left for Onarris, a message from the Dominion world of Kurnais VII had been intercepted by Camelot. Locals had armed themselves and were fighting against the Jem’Hadar, when another group of Jem’Hadar suddenly turned on the others and began fighting amongst themselves.

 

Corizon’s throat seemed to gulp deeply and endlessly, his worst fears being realized. The mighty Dominion was collapsing on itself, and the waves from that would spill out into every sector of the Quadrant.

 

And if the people were joining the Hundred’s Forces, who’s orders came directly from Founders—the Dominion would fall. Of that he was sure. And if the Hundred were to take over the Dominion, and have the full might of their armies…then the Alpha Quadrant would be covered in darkness and despair once more.

 

That could not happen. Not his watch. Not so long as he had breath and a beating heart in his chest. It also left them with only one option—aid the Dominion. A wise Dameon general once said, “My enemy is my enemy, until a more terrible force unites us.”

 

Corizon let that saying drift through his head as he looked at the force he had to work with—the force that would make up the Federation’s first and last line of defense against the horror of another war.

 

Twelve Starfleet vessels, three Mirandas, two New Orleans, three Excelsiors, a Niagara, Cheyenne, Steamrunner, Nebula and an Akira; and of course the Sovereign-class USS Yorktown, which Corizon had just recalled from a trade mission. To say nothing of the…two hundred or so vessels occupied by pointed-eared green bloods with browridges parked outside.

 

Also, the Klingons had a decent force, and the Dominion had sent a squadron of Battlecruisers to reinforce the system. Of course, the tactician in Corizon knew that while usually, combined with the more than ample defenses of an Alexandria-class starbase would usually be enough to defend the castle. However, if the Hundred were the ones responsible for the attacks on the cloning facilities, or had managed to secure a significant number of Jem’Hadar fleets, either of which being entirely possible—they might need all the help they could get.

 

Sighing, he flipped through commands, repositioning the auto-defense grid which had recently been placed through out the system. As ATAG advisor to ‘Fleet HQ for the Gamma Quadrant, he’d pleaded for a sector fleet to be assigned to Camelot…you know just in case something like this really did happen. But the Federation Council had been reluctant to grant such a request. It wasn’t politically correct—or something ‘diplomatic’ like that.

 

“Commander Sprint,” Corizon’s voice grumbled from the central command console. “Order all Federation vessels to assume tactical alertness status three. Have all civilians transferred off station to Avalon…”

 

Sprint looked up, taken a little off guard. “But sir,” he said respectfully. “Most of them just got here…”

 

“Well,” Corizon said gruffly. “They walked right into the middle of a Civil War. Begin transferring them to the planet…see to it personally. And get me the CENG in my office. And find…”

 

Another voice interrupted his commands, causing a slight growl to echo across the room. “Commander,” the even keeled, unmistakable voice of Admiral tr’Shaelon called forth. “A word with you.”

 

Corizon nodded to Khevio, forcing his displeasure into a slight, tight smile, and glanced at Sprint. “Of course, sir. I’ll get right on that.”

 

“Admiral,” Corizon said, flattening his ears and motioning towards the ramp that headed down towards the Station CO office. tr’Shaelon followed, his arms tucked neatly behind his uniform.

 

They entered the office, which Corizon still hadn’t gotten used to. It was larger than his, and it had fish. He hated fish. They’re stupid, foul smelling, and generally taste as foul as they smell. But he couldn’t bring himself to chuck them out the nearest airlock—someone would get them on their windshield.

 

He sat down behind the glass desk, motioning to one of the two chairs on the opposite side. He didn’t offer a drink or food, though the thought of breaking out a water bowl and slurping it in front of the Admiral amused him thoroughly.

 

“What can I do for you Admiral,” Corizon said, suppressing the amusement with his normal surly façade—the one where you weren’t sure if he was angry or just thought you might make a nice mid-afternoon snack.

 

Unphased, tr’Shaelon slowly folded his arms over his chest and thought for a moment, structuring his words very carefully. “That, Commander,” his voice flat and dry, “depends entirely on you.”

 

Corizon disliked the Romulan penchant for word games, “What do you want?”

 

Not entirely surprised by the response, Khevio allowed a small smile to creep across his face, he’d had just about enough of the smug arrogance of the Vulcans lately. “I want to know what you’re planning to do about a possible Hundred attack on Camelot.”

 

“You know something I don’t?”

 

Khevio smiled again, ever so slightly, and then acted slight impugned. “Of course I would share any information we had gained with you…I would expect you to do the same.”

 

Surly, “If you came here to play you’re little games of riddles…Lah…Leh…L something…”

 

“Lhi,” Khevio injected.

 

“Whatever. I am not here to play games. I am here to defend the Alpha Quadrant.”

 

“And you doubt I am?”

 

“No, though…” he stopped himself. “This is exactly what I mean.”

 

“Commander, has anyone ever told you, that you’re entirely too rigid?”

 

“Not in those words.”

 

Khevio’s brows lifted, a mental thought amusing him. “At any rate Commander, I’d appreciate to be briefed on all strategically important issues pertaining to the defense of this sector.”

 

“And you will be,” Corizon said flipping his ears back in annoyance. “But not by me…”

 

The beep of a communication from CNC interrupted him, and stalled the inevitable posturing response by tr’Shaelon. Composing himself, he held up a hand as Khevio opened his mouth and shut it. “Go ahead.”

 

Though he’d expected Sprint’s voice, it was instead Lt. Thomas Jones who replied. “Yes sir, there’s an inbound transport requesting clearance to dock.”

 

Corizon’s ears pinned back once more. “I though we ordered all civies to be sent to the planet.”

 

“They’re not Civ’s sir.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes sir, It’s a Colonel Kimura, Starfleet Marines. Apparently they have orders to assume security roles aboard the station.”

 

Corizon, not wanting to show his building frustration in front of the Romulan, or seem to be out of the loop, even though this was entirely new to him, smiled politely. “Of course, have the Colonel report to me as soon as he arrives.”

 

“Yes Sir.”

 

Khevio hid his amusement. “Well you’re busy, I’ll leave you to your work.”

 

“Thanks…”

 

After what seemed like many hours, Corizon looked up as the chime on the door rang.

 

"Enter"

 

Colonel Kimura strode confidently into the office. "Good afternoon, Commander."

 

Not getting up, he motioned to the chair. "Sit."

 

Eyebrows lifting even as a small smile curved his lips, Kimura nodded. "Thank you, I shall," he said, taking the indicated seat.

 

"You'll excuse me if there isn't a red carpet for you," Corizon's voice hiding the small traces of a gutteral growl forming. "But no one told me they were sending a boatload of jarheads till a few minutes ago."

 

Refusing to be antagonized, Kimura leaned back in the chair casually. "We're here to

help out your goldshirts in the event of a boarding party."

 

"How thoughtfull," Corizon said. "Well, the quartermaster will get you setup with everything. I am sorry if I seem a bit...disorginized but this is my...second day on the job, and all I have had time to do is plan the defense of this station."

 

"Of course, Commander." The colonel shrugged, one-shouldered. "We're not here to make your life difficult. Actually, the idea is to make it simpler."

 

Corizon considered that, "Just remember that because your rank is colonel, does not mean you...in anyway outrank me. Clear?"

 

The colonel's smile grew wider. "Well, Fleet command might have something to say about that," he began, with distinct overtones of laughter in his voice, "but this is your show, Commander."

 

Unamused, Corizon continued. "At the moment, the station's XO is on assignment. That makes you my acting XO. See to it I have a duty roster for the security rotations by 1800."

 

By now grinning widely, Kimura raised a hand, touching two fingers to his temple in an informal version of the long-outdated salute. "Yes, sir," he said crisply.

 

"The Engineering teams are working on getting all weapon systems fully functionaly," Corizon looked at some notes, "And Lt. Commander Sprint is seeing to the Evacuation of Civilians to the planet below."

 

Sobering, the colonel nodded. "How long does he expect the evac proceedures to take?"

 

"Including Diplomatic Personell from the Romulans, Klingons and Dominion Governemnts? Three to five hours."

 

Corizon looked again to his notes, "There will be an Allied Strategy meeting at the Round Table tommorow at 0700 Station time, I'll expect you to be in attendence."

 

"Questions?”

 

“No -- Actually, yes."

 

Ears pinning back, slightly, "Yes?"

 

"Who's your chief goldshirt around here? I want a full briefing on your security procedures.

 

Corizon flitted through the files, mentally. "Lt. Robertson, Jake."

 

"Can you have him report to me? I'd appreciate it."

 

"You'll find him helping moving the Klingon Diplomats."

 

"Thank you." Colonel Kimura rose from his chair. "I won't take up any more of your time, then."

 

"Oh and Colonel," Corizon said standing.

 

"Yes, Commander?"

 

"Welcome to the Gamma Quadrant."

 

Kimura inclined his head graciously. "Thank you."

::would like to point out that he early, as in friday afternoon, predicted that the Pats would lose, as would the Colts...waves his Terrible Towel::

Mission Briefing

 

It has been a little over a week since the near disaster with the viral spores, however the alien, who is the believed origin of the virus, remains unconscious and unresponsive, meanwhile, Commander Corizon has ordered a full investigation into how the alien’s pod found it’s way into the cargo bay.

 

At the same time, reports of increased resistance among Dominion citizens continue to come in. Also both of the Klingon scouting missions should also soon return to Camelot Station, Day, Corizon, and Sorehl anxiously await there reports.

010806.txt

Corizon set perched in the COC of Camelot Station, mentally reviewing his schedule for the day. Captain Sorehl had departed from Camelot with Weyoun aboard the USS Reliant only a few hours before, and now Corizon was fully in command of the Alexandria-class station—at least for now.

 

Sorehl had delayed as long as possible, hoping to hear news from Governor K’Vorlag and Ambassador N’Kedre. Especially once HoD Tagor of the IKS Balth had arrived the day before, with the bodies of the Jem’Hadar they had uncovered at the ruins of the cloning facility they had been sent to scout.

 

And even more so, when reports had began to stream in of armed resistance occurring through out the Dominion. But he had waited as long as Day, Corizon, or Sorehl could possibly explain to Starfleet Command.

 

So now, the duty of protecting Avalon, and waiting for K’Vorlag, fell to Ah-Windu Corizon. To say he was happy with the assignment would be an overstatement. While he’d wanted his own command for sometime, this was not the situation or the circumstances he’d wanted that to happen under.

 

He supposed the good news was, that ‘Amun’ the strange visitor who’d nearly killed them all, had left the station a few hours before aboard a independent freighter bound for a small trading outpost, from which he said he could arrange further transport to his homeworld. Though it went against his better judgment, Corizon allowed Amun to take his stasis pod as well.

 

Corizon’s train of thought was disrupted though, by the even , yet slightly alarmed voice of Commander Sprint. “Commander,” he said.

 

“Yes,” Corizon blinked a few times, reorganizing his thought patterns to focus on the task at hand.

 

“We’re receiving a transmission from New Bajor,” Sprint motioned to the status monitor.

 

Unfolding his hands and tapping a few commands on his own consol, Corizon brought up the same screen Sprint was looking at. “The Aquaran…” his voice trailing off.

 

“They were docked at Camelot a few days ago, sir. As you can see they haven’t reported in at New Bajor, they were supposed to be back at there three days ago.”

 

“Can we get a fix on their last location?”

 

“Negative, sir,” Sprint replied evenly. “They appear to have entered the Onnaris Expanse, it’s difficult to pinpoint their location from this range.”

 

Corizon’s brows furrowed in annoyance. “Why would they have gone into the Onnaris Expanse?”

 

“Some of the traders have been using it as a short cut back to the wormhole. It saves a few days off the trip.”

 

Again, Corizon’s brow furrowed, his ears moving backwards in frustration. “Send out a signal to all colonies and transports in the Quadrant, telling them to avoid that sector.”

 

“Sir?”

 

“I don’t want anyone else getting messed up in this…”

 

Sprint nodded. “The Expanse would be perfect for Hundred Raiders to hide out in…”

 

Corizon nodded his agreement. “Who can we send to find them?”

 

Quickly flicking through the manifest of vessels currently in the sector as well as those docked at Camelot, Sprint turned to face Corizon. “The Yorktown is currently on a trade mission, to far out…”

 

Corizon glanced at the same readout. “And most of the crews here aren’t experienced enough with an area of space like the Expanse to find them…”

 

Spint nodded, “I suppose that leaves…”

 

“Get me Admiral Day…”

FROM: Starfleet Command, Admiral Carl D. Sanifrest, Fleet Admiral Alynna Necheyev

TO: Captain Sorehl, Commanding Officer, Camelot Station

CC: Vice-Admiral Wayne Day, Commanding Officer, Commander Ah-Windu Corizon, Executive Officer, USS Morningstar

SUBJECT: NEW ORDERS

 

You are hereby requested and ordered to report, along with Dominion Liaison Weyoun to Starfleet Military Prison, Australia, Earth, Sector 001. Until such time that you return to Gamma Quadrant, Commander Ah-Windu Corizon will be elevated to command of Camelot Station. Upon your return from the Sector 001, you will be reinstalled as Commanding Officer.

 

You are to depart aboard the USS Reliant ASAP with Weyoun. Godspeed Captain.

Mission Briefing (SD 0601.8) USS Morningstar

 

It has been a little over a week since the near disaster with the viral spores, however the alien, who is the believed origin of the virus, remains unconscious and unresponsive, meanwhile, Commander Corizon has ordered a full investigation into how the alien’s pod found it’s way into the cargo bay.

 

At the same time, reports of increased resistance among Dominion citizens continue to come in. Also both of the Klingon scouting missions should also soon return to Camelot Station, Day, Corizon, and Sorehl anxiously await there reports.

My views on software are a little less formalized and formed. I have very strong opinions on other type of content, a by-product of working in and around the media.

 

But generally my views remain the same. I believe firmly in the concept of the free exchange and usage of information.

 

If someone buys a software product, and then decides to share that product, I have no issue with downloading it for free, meaning the person recieves no return of profit. By that situation, I don't think that by downloading anything I am stealing anything, so long as I have no plans to use the software to make money.

 

However, if you're going to use the software, to for example, create advertisments that will generate profit, you should and need to pay a royality "liscening" fee to use it, since I am making profit I should share that. But the way I look at is, if I am not actually making, or attempting to make, profit, it should classify under "fair use."

 

That said, I am probabbly on the most "left" side of copyright law. :lol:

I have an issue with calling it piracy.

 

If all I am doing is ripping a copy of it for my own benefit, I am really not..."pirating" it because I am not going to make profit off of it, which is actually what copyright is designed to protect, artists ability to be the ones making money off it.

 

The way I look at it is, I am using it for my own personal thing, not making money of it, if I were, I'd expect to pay royality fees. It's like using the word and character from Startrek for our site, should that to now classify as "pirating?"

 

El no. But that's just me. :lol:

Corizon shuffled through the reports on his desk. Mostly they weren’t addressed to him, but he was smart enough to keep up on everything his underlings sent to each other report wise. Though he doubted they were any the wiser. The latest from Crispin particularly piqued his interest; for some reason that boy sent pains up Corizon’s back on a regular basis. But on the lighter note, the virus had been contained and dealt with thanks to Doctor Tyler Felix’s fast work.

 

Corizon made a mental note to send him a thank you note. Getting rid of that headache deserved something, even if it was an entirely hollow gesture.

 

Letting the PADD with Crispin’s report shuffle to the other side of his desk, Corizon flipped through a few others; nothing worthy of his attention at the moment. He had an appointment with Lt. Sherayx of Camelot about requisitioning of parts for Morningstar. He also had an appointment with Captain Sorehl to discuss the latest Dominion intelligence. A meeting with the Delta-shift leaders, something he wasn’t looking forward to in the slightest.

 

Shoving his personal appointments calendar to the bottom of the stack, he glanced at the one containing station news. The freighter Aquaran was due to arrive with a host of civilians. He wasn’t sure that bringing civilians to Camelot was the best idea he heard lately, but then he wasn’t entirely sure that Camelot itself was a ‘good’ idea either.

 

He picked up the PADD with Crispin’s report on it and smiled wryly. Reaching across the table he tapped the communications consol. “Commander Kennin,” his voice calm and flat. “Please report to Commander Corizon’s office on Camelot.”

 

A few minutes passed before Corizon's door chimed politely, and Kennin's voice filtered over the comm. "You wanted something, Commander?"

 

"Yes, please come in." He stood moving from his desk towards the door. Kennin entered, a small frown line between his brows. He wasn't entirely certain whether to be suspicious or just nervous -- Corizon was rarely so polite to him.

 

"Have a seat Commander," he pointed to the small sitting area where a water pitcher and two glasses.

 

Watching Corizon out of the corner of his eye, Kennin sat. Corizon sat across from him pouring himself a glass of water. He had laid the PADD down in front of Kennin.

 

Kennin's eyes slipped to the PADD idly, skimming the phrases with only casual interest. Suddenly, one line jumped out at him, and he sat up straight as if suddenly jabbed with a pin.

 

"I thought you'd enjoy that," taking a drink of water. "I know I certainly did."

 

"He can't be serious?"

 

"You've worked with him more than I have," he sat the drink down again. "What do you think?"

 

"I think he's either certifiable or just plain stupid. If he thinks he's really going to get this approved..." Kennin looked hard at Corizon. "He's not, is he?"

 

"Of course not, you're the technical advisor to Morningstar, in fact why don't you let him know that.." Corizon's calmness belayed his somewhat nefarious intent. "Think you can handle that?"

 

"Oh... I think it'll be a pleasure, Commander."

 

"Good," Corizon smirked. "Drink?"

 

"Please." Kennin let a small smile creep across his face. It seemed somewhat out of place on his usual placid features... one might almost call it... well, evil. "You know, Commander, you're a bad influence."

 

Corizon poured him a drink of water and handed him the glass. "I haven't a clue what you’re talking about."

 

"Of course not." Kennin raised the glass in salute. "Cheers."

 

Corizon smiled, and raised the glass. "I do however have another question for you..." Kennin waited, one brow lifted in a manner that proved he'd spent too much time with Vulcans.

 

"Commander," he slid another PADD across the table that had been tucked neatly in his jacket pocket. "It's a rather interesting theory..."

 

"Of course it's a theory based on purile conjecture, all of which lacks any hard evidence..."

 

Kennin took the PADD and skimmed through it quickly. "Interesting, yes, but he makes some rather stunning leaps of logic." He set the PADD back down on the table.

 

Corizon glanced at Kennin. "At what point did I miss our shielding failing during the attack?"

 

Kennin shrugged. "We might have had a microfail in one grid, or a seam gap, but I certainly didn't notice it. And the timing involved would have to have been... incredible. Literally," he added.

 

"And wouldn't our internal sensors have detected the beam in?"

 

"Unless some tech was slacking in his matainence routines, yes."

 

"Why don't you find out for me," Corizon said sternly. "Meanwhile I'll check the sensor logs and see if that damned thing got brought aboard at Al-Ucard."

 

"Will do." Kennin sipped his water. "I take it you don't think it did get beamed aboard."

 

"Not really," he said. "Why would you go to the trouble of using him as a weapon, when you pretty much had us destroyed anyway. Not to mention that whatever virus that thing was carrying would have killed us and ran it's course before we got back to Camelot...assuming they knew where we were going..."

 

"As fast as that thing worked..." Kennin rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Al-Ucard would still have been too far away to affect Camelot. Unless the stuff is viable in the atmosphere for a while, and they were counting on someone doing a salvage."

 

"Any luck on figuring out that weapon?"

 

Corizon poured himself another drink of water, and put the glass to his lips. Kennin sighed and tossed back the last swallow of water in his glass.

 

"Not yet. It's like nothing I've ever seen before. I mean, sometimes it looks familiar, but then the equations just go... ######-eyed." He made a motion to the pitcher, got a nod, and poured himself another glass. "You're going to laugh, but... The thing this reminds me of most?"

 

Corizon tilted his head, ears cocked slightly upright. "What?"

 

"Well... It looks like some of the stuff from the MIDAS array -- you know, the one that made contact with Voyager? That's strictly communications, though."

 

"Interesting," he said curiously. "Have you looked at any of the subspace weapon information in the databank."

 

"I was going to," Kennin admitted, "but then they hauled me down to Camelot's medbay..."

 

"Let me know," he said nodding. "I was looking over the other weapon they used...some sort of Quantum Pulse. Who ever that was, they're more advanced than anything I've ever seen."

 

"Just what we didn't need," Kennin sighed. "Another enemy more advanced than us."

 

"My thoughts exactly," he nodded knowingly. "Well Commander, I am sure you have work to do, I know I do."

 

"Of course, Commander." Kennin set his glass down on the table with a soft clink. "I'll just go have a word with Mr. Xavier, perhaps."

 

"I'd appreciate that," Corizon said standing up. "It's still your baby."

 

Kennin chuckled as he also rose. "I've got an upgrade plan on my desk," he said. "Been working on it for about a month, and I think it's ready to deploy now. I'll forward it on to you, shall I?"

 

"Excellent."

 

As Kennin left Corizon slumped back into the chair he’d been sitting in. Really he kind of liked working out of this office as opposed to working on Mornignstar it reminded him of his job prior to being assigned to the Gamma Quadrant, and he was suddenly very nostalgic for the days when got to sit behind a desk and look at tactical assessments for the Tholians and the Gorn.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Aboard the Aquaran Captain Heath Stanbury smiled widely as the freighter made it’s final approach to Starbase Camelot. Thankfully the whole quarantine order had been lifted and he could drop of his passengers and cargo, refuel, and be back in the nice safe Alpha Quadrant before all hell broke loose in the Gamma Quadrant.

 

In retrospect, taking this job had been stupid, but at the time he needed the money. “Send to Camelot station, this is the Passenger Liner Aquaran requesting permission to dock.”

 

A few moments later, Sprint’s voice filled the speakers on the bridge of the Aquaran. “Welcome to Camelot,” his voice upbeat and cheery. “How long will you be staying for Aquaran?”

 

Stanbury glanced momentarily at the Bajoran woman seated a few feet from him. “Just long enough to unload our cargo and passengers and refuel. Then we’ll be on our way.”

 

“Understood, you may dock at Port 5. Docking crews will assist you with everything you need. Simple contact Flight Control when you’re ready to leave. Sprint out.”

 

“Accommodating,” the Bajoran woman said smiling.

 

Stanbury smirked. “Don’t think you’re talking me into staying one moment longer than I have to in this godforsaken Quadrant.”

 

She could only smile.

 

~ ~ ~

 

In the Medbay on Camelot, Doctor Tyler Felix looked over his very curious new patient. Though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to be curing about him. From what he could tell, the man literally had thousands of the viral spores laying beneath his skin in tiny microscopic pouches.

 

Further complicating things, was the fact that he didn’t seem to be suffering from the virus at all. In fact, Felix couldn’t pinpoint why the man had passed out at all. Of course it would help if he had the foggiest clue what he was and what was normal for the creature. He seemed to be slightly reptilian in nature, but that was only conjecture, and Felix couldn’t even start guessing where he was from.

 

In deed the guy…he assumed…was quite the mystery. Part of him wanted to wake him up, but part of him—the more logical part—reminded him that he hadn’t the foggiest clue how to do that.

 

So, in the mean time, Felix had dedicated himself to studying the viral spore. In all his medical years, he’d never seen anything like it. Normally you saw bacterial spores, as a virus in essence is little more than strand of DNA or RNA with some protein covering. But this was different, It seemed that the virus had a bacterial spore protecting it, and somehow working as a delivery method.

 

When the spores where inhaled, the body would destroy the spores, but not before the virus inside of the spore attacked the bodies leucocytes, and anything else for that matter. Curing it, was a matter of introducing leucocytes that killed the spores, with out activating the virus inside. At any rate, it was a wonder of genetics that fascinated him, and would likely be all the talk back at Starfleet Medical when his reports finally made it back to San Francisco.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Propped on the arm of the couch in his office, Corizon ran his hands through his silver hair, stopping only to give a slight scratch at his ears before letting his hands work down his tensed shoulders and giving them a slight rub as he let his head bow slightly and his eyes flickered shut.

 

“Computer,” his smooth, yet paradoxically tense voice called. “Lights, thirty percent. Resume last playback.”

 

After a monotone beep, the lights in his office dimmed, and the soft gentle sounds of music began to filter into the room. The music was low, and accenting an odd yet soothing vocal.

 

As the music followed, Corizon closed his eyes, focusing only on the sound of the voice. And just as he began to enter a meditative state, the obtuse sound of his doorbell shook him from the state. He growled, making himself remember that he couldn’t rip whoever this was to shreds, it would make a mess on the carpet.

 

“Enter,” his voice sharp, displeased, and generally agitated.

 

“Ah-Windu Corizon…”

 

He turned hearing his full name, sans title, curios to who his visitor was. “Setting a romantic atmosphere?”

 

Corizon blinked, not expecting the visitor. “Actually,” the irritation quickly fading, “I was hoping to avoid people like you.”

 

“I see you’re notion of hospitality hasn’t changed.”

 

“You know me, Computer, Lights.”

 

As the lights brightened, the specter that had been his visitor came more clearly into view. He was Dameon, medium height and build. Dressed in a finely woven black jacket that most closely resembled a haori, with patterned white and grey kimono beneath, and a black hakama over the kimono but beneath the haori jacket; he also wore neck order, hanging from deep purple velvet ribbon. The order comprised of a single golden star, wreathed in flame, with a silver sword in the center. His face, worn with age, had four, two on either side, deep purple marks, like claws stretching from the crest of his gentle cheekbones to his silver hairline. On his forehead, he bore a crescent moon, with a sword through the center, of the same color purple.

 

“All to well I am afraid,” Corizon continued welcoming the other Dameon into the room. “Have a seat.”

 

“It is good to see you again,” he said as he took a seat. “I was frankly surprised when I heard you were being transferred to the Gamma Quadrant. I never thought they’d get you out from behind a desk…it appears they haven’t.”

 

Corizon chuckled ever so slightly, “And look at you Ambassador Tyan-ji. I never thought they’d get you to stay on Earth. It appears they haven’t.”

 

The two looked at one an other with amused grins. “Tell me,” Tyan-ji said, “How do you like the fleet life.”

 

“It could be worse.”

 

Tyan-ji chuckled. “I see you haven’t lost the infamous Corizon gift of understatement.”

 

“Tell me,” Corizon said, letting his ears lay to either side. “Why has the highest ranking Dameon Ambassador made a trip all the way to the Gamma Quadrant…it’s not even tourist season.”

 

Studying Corizon carefully, formulating a response, “I suppose you wouldn’t believe me if I said an old family friend was coming to see his garrrka, now would you?”

 

The two smirked at each other. It had been almost three years since they’d seen one an other. Tyan-ji had been a friend of Ah-Windu’s father, close enough for Tyan-ji to take Ah-Windu as his ¬garrrka, roughly translated to godson.

 

“Given the fact I know this old family friend,” Corizon said ruefully. “No.”

 

Tyan-ji smirked, “Always a bright one you were, even as a pup.”

 

“Well then, why have you come to see me?”

 

“Well, really I didn’t come to see you,” Tyan-ji said sitting up straighter on the couch. “You’re the bonus.”

 

“Oh?” Corizon’s interested was now piqued, and his ears stood at attention.

 

“I am sure,” pausing ever so slightly, “given your…position, you know what that Vulcan woman has proposed.”

 

Tyan-ji scoffed, his ears pinned back, “Well not really her so much as the hachgg bah of a Vorta Weyoun.”

 

A glazed and slightly annoyed look fell over his face. “Yes,” Corizon hid the annoyance, though his ears moved stiffly backwards. “What of it?”

 

“It has been brought before the Council,” Tyan-ji’s own annoyance obvious.

 

“And they of course see the merit to the proposal.”

 

Giving a slight nod, “Yes they do.”

 

“I can’t disagree with them, that if our interest is in having stability in the Gamma Quadrant, that her council is needed.”

 

“…If our interest is in having a stable presence in the Gamma Quadrant,” Tyan-ji repeated that phrase rhetorically. “There are those on the Federation Council, and in Starfleet Command who do not think that is where our interests should be…”

 

“To say nothing of our allies,” Corizon finished the thought.

 

“Well,” Tyan-ji smirked, letting the annoyance subside for the moment. “We weren’t planning on telling them one way or the other.”

 

Corizon smirked, a bit surprised. “So what has the council decided?”

 

“They have decided to…provisionally grant the request.”

 

“Provisionally?” ears and eyebrows quirked.

 

“You’re looking at the provision.”

 

Corizon smirk widened. “Oh really?”

 

“Well yes, the Vorta will be transported off the station and very secretly into the Alpha Quadrant within the next few weeks on a transport shuttle.”

 

“And you’ll be going with him?”

 

“No.”

 

Corizon blinked a mental, NO?

 

“No,” Tyan-ji said firmly. “I will be staying here to keep an eye on the little green blood, especially when the Vorta comes back. If I think we’re compromising the Federation’s security interests, I have the authority to shut this whole operation down and let the Dominion solve it’s own problems.”

 

Corizon couldn’t hide his surprise. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that.”

 

“No, I don’t suppose you were. But then, you’re not supposed to know any of this, if you get my drift.”

 

“If I didn’t know better,” Corizon said shaking his head. “I’d say a bunch of Romulans were running the council these days.”

 

“I think,” Tyan-ji said musingly, “If it weren’t for that Ambassador N’Kedre, they just might have been.”

 

The two smirked again, only shaking their heads. “Well Corizon, I am tired from my journey, and I am sure you have paper work you want to do. How about dinner?”

 

“Sure,” he said grinning, showing his fangs. “I’ll come pick you up. Sure you can find you’re way to the Ambassadorial wing?”

 

“I’ll just follow my nose, at worst I’ll find the Klingons…”

To: Personnel Office

Starfleet Command, Earth

 

From: Commander Ah-Windu Corizon

U.S.S. Morningstar, NX-82785

 

Re: Multiple Awards, Promotions

--------------------------------------------------------------

 

This communique is to serve as notice that effective Stardate 0512.20, the following awards and promotions have been awarded.

 

Promotions:

Lt. Zack Chen to Lt. Commander

Lt. (Jg) Laarell Teykier to Lieutenant

Lt. (Jg) Tandaris Admiran to Lieutenant

Ensign James Eagle to Lieutenant Junior Grade

 

Service Stripe:

Laarell

Tandaris Admiran

Corizon

 

Bronze:

Pilot

Xavier

Tandaris

 

Silver:

Corizon

Laarell

Graham

 

Gold:

Delgado

Day

 

Meritorious Achievement Award:

Tandaris Admiran

 

 

Excalibur Starburst of Excellence:

Awarded yearly to the simmer who most exemplifies the Excalibur mission; contributing logs, attendance, and overall excellence in play. To be selected by the command team.

Awarded to: Lt. Commander Brian Graham

 

Admiral’s Stamina Medal:

Awarded yearly to the player with the best overall attendance; given by Admiral Day.

Awarded to: Lt. Commander Elaine Delgado

 

Commander’s Quill and PADD Award:

Awarded yearly for the best log, or best series of logs; given by Commander Corizon.

Awarded to: Lt. Laarell Teykier and Captain Sorehl

Hunter: You ever watch Star Trek?

Vossler: St- yeah, Star...

Hunter: Star Trek! The USS Enterprise? All right, now you remember when the Klingons were gonna blow up the Enterprise and Captain Kirk calls down to Scotty he says "Scotty, I gotta have more power-"

Vossler: He needs more, more warp speed, yeah.

Hunter: Warp speed, exactly. Now I'm Captain Kirk, you're Scotty, I need more power. I'm telling you if you do not get this radio up, a billion people are gonna die; now it's all up to you, I know it's a crappy deal but you got it, can you handle it?

Vossler: [silent]

Hunter: Scotty?

Vossler: Aye, Captain.

MISSION BRIEF: The Morningstar has returned from their elongated mission to Surma, the crew remains on leave, though an unusual container, which appears to be a stasis pod has been found. When last we left our gallent hero's (or blissful morons, rulling pending) they were about to find out what was in said container...

12405.txt

I am not sure how far others are from (I live in Northern WVA) so I am going to say Grom or A9.