Cptn Corizon

The USS Excalibur-C Simulation will run Sunday, Dec. 23 2007 as scheduled, however all absences will be excused. Everyone have a wonderful holiday season. ::Goes back to his solstice party::

In one of my 300-level and again in a 400-level as part of our final we were required to find a job and fill out the application, resume and yadda-yadda for it and turn it in. I found it really helpful...not that helps you any lol

MISSION BRIEF: The day has arrived, and the final orders have been cut for the launch of the USS Excalibur, NCC-2004-C. The Excalibur crew have assembled on the ship as the launch ceremony is getting underway. On the drydock facility, they are t-minus 5 minutes from chucking the bottle at the Excalibur. The crew, meanwhile, is finishing last min checks. Crew have been ordered to duty stations for the launch. 120907.txt

Mission "Brief": Four months have passed since the Excalibur-B was decommissioned and the entire former crew of the Excalibur-B found themselves strung across the Federation in new roles. But a few weeks prior to tonight sim, most of them received new orders that, though vague, have required them to report to Antares Shipyard. Rumors are circulating that a meeting to be held at 1500 in the main observation lounge of Antares Shipyard Base will hold some clue as to their reason for being there. We open with with everyone gathered in the Ob Lounge on Antares. The time is approx. 1445.Four months have passed since the Excalibur-B was decommissioned and the entire former crew of the Excalibur-B found themselves strung across the Federation in new roles. But a few weeks prior to tonight sim, most of them received new orders that, though vague, have required them to report to Antares Shipyard. Rumors are circulating that a meeting to be held at 1500 in the main observation lounge of Antares Shipyard Base will hold some clue as to their reason for being there. We open with with everyone gathered in the Ob Lounge on Antares. The time is approx. 1445. 120207.txt

MISSION BRIEF>Excalibur has been recalled to Earth, and the crew thrown a "Welcome Back luncheon." Corizon, meanwhile met with various members of the admiralty and Federation Council. He has called for an assembly of all Excalibur crew in (what's left of) the main Shuttle bay. 111807.txt

Mission Brief :Having made essential repairs to the ship (in effect we patched up just enough holes and systems that we wouldn't explode), the Excalibur made way for Earth for debriefing. As we pick up, nearly three weeks have passed since our last game, and the Excalibur is about an hour away from Earth. 111107.txt

MISSION BRIEF: The Excalibur has regained their lost Onion, and are now working on getting back Spots, Dox and Kittah. The ISS Excalibur though has taken an interest in the cloaked ship though, and Mirror Ramson and Sorehl are still concerned about the possibility of the wormhole being exposed. In addition, Colonel Kimura and Inspector Vaos are preparing to raid the Romulan Base. 110407.txt

MISSION BRIEF: The Excalibur has recovered 1/4 members of the AT, Corizon would like the other three back. Science/Engineering continue to work on getting us home. The ISS Excalibur is starting to troll. 102807.txt

::gags at Kitty love:: :D

The box on his desk was opened. The red book laid face down against the glass. A silver dagger laid next to it, shimmering even in the darkness, it's cold reflective surface undimmed. A glass of amber colored liquor lay unattended. Of all the things he'd done in his life, all of things he'd experienced, none haunted him so...vividly. At some point, a certain disconnect was supposed to happen in his line of work, letting you go about your life with some form of normality. Something though. Something deep in his consciousness had kept that from happening. It was as if the memory had never faded like so many others, like it had happened just the day before. The inner recesses of his mind ached in the pains of memories. Memories he'd long wished to forget. The experience was so utterly visceral. Stardate 7403.25 The first subjects arrived today. I have to admit, I was taken aback by their...I am not sure there's a word to describe it, not in any tongue I know. They all looked so helpless, so pathetic. It took me a few minutes to remind myself that I was not one of them, and that they neither deserved my empathy or my pity, they were, after all, the enemy. Trials will begin on the subjects sometime this week, after we've had a chance to properly inspect the new arrivals. I have to admit, learning their physiology in great detail will prove a boon to our work, even if the cost in lives has been higher than we originally expected. Stardate 7403.29 We've finally completed processing the new arrivals. I have to say they're actually the lucky ones, compared to the rest of their people. We feed them, give them proper medical care. I've begun to wonder why they hate us so much. You can tell right away that they do hate us though. The way they look at us, the way they sneer in their smug superiority, confident in their place in whatever afterlife they've been trained to believe in. Stardate 7405.18 It's been almost a month since this latest batch arrived, and the survival rate has not been nearly as high as predicted, whether or not that is actually a good thing remains to be seen. I can't say I am sorry that they're dead though. The way they look at you every morning as they're brought in for inspection, the way glare in silent hatred; it makes me wish a slow and painful death on them all, and makes me smile to realize I am the exact instrument of their death. Some promising work has been yielded at their expense, and I was pleased to report to central of it, and they were most pleased in my progress. I think I'll celebrate tonight, perhaps a drink and good book before bed? That would be a welcome change from reading autopsy reports all evening. Stardate 7407.06 I've found myself hating them more and more with each passing day and month. At first I hated them because they were so utterly pathetic, helpless, and unclean. So different from me, and yet so...full of hate. They hated me for what I did to them, and I hated them for being different, for being pathetic excuses for life. Now I hate them for something far more insidious. I hate them because though they hold the secrets I desire, they keep them from me. They bring this torture on themselves. If only they would reveal to me what I wish to know. The secret their DNA holds. Stardate 7407.16 We picked up the pace of our testing. Central is pressuring me more now for results. I didn't know what to tell them. They asked me if more subjects would help...I told them no. Secretly I desired to tell them yes, to kill as many of them as I could, but then I thought about having to see more of them every day. Their pathetic faces, their glaring eyes...it made me ill. Stardate 7407.16 Several subjects have begun to show promise now. I am beginning to think my work is actually going somewhere now. Perhaps, in a few decades what I've done here will finally be known and recognized for what it is. I am saving these people. Saving them from themselves. Stardate 7408.26 The problem with viral agents isn't, as one might think, finding something that will kill a target species. That's actually the easiest part of the whole process. No, no...the hardest thing is to find an agent that will spread quickly enough to kill as many people as possible without being detected. You hurdle is to find something that can be easily spread, is deadly enough to kill, and can't be detected until it's to late to do anything about it. In the past, we've found such agents and they've been useful, a way to end war without even firing a bullet. Stardate 7409.15 There was an accident in the lab today. Months of research was simply lost, destroyed by fire. Almost the entire complex was lost... They tell me I'm being transferred to another facility to begin work on a new project. I can't say I am unhappy...at least I'll never have to look at their faces anytime soon, not where I am going anyway. He looked down at his hands, for the briefest of moments, he saw, there on his skin, boils and lesions like his subjects had once had. It was...startling. Pulling back, he looked into the glass in front of him...instead of the image he normally saw, a silver-haired man in a Starfleet Uniform, he saw a man in dark clothing, with black hair...and a spoon upon his head. The images from the diary came flooding back. Instead of bad nostalgia, it was a full on attack. He fell to the floor in anguish and pain, trying to scream but nothing came out. He laid, screaming but not screaming, gripped in fear as if he were no longer in control of his body, for what seemed like hours, languishing in agony. Finally succumbing, he blacked out. “You had quite the nightmare, didn't you?” Opening his eyes, a haze formed briefly obscuring his view. Where was he? “Commander,” the haze began to give way to the dark, bleakness of an antiseptically cold room. The voice was familiar but he didn’t quite recognize it yet. “I am glad to see you’re finally awake.” Reflexively wiping at his eyes the haze cleared more and he looked towards the only source of light in the room. Sitting across from him was a solitary Cardassian figure. “Who the hell are you?” “I am Gul Mahet,” the Cardassian said, his officious tone dripping with the same disdain he'd just felt. “But, if you earn it, you may simply call me Mahet.” “Screw you.” “Such anger...but then...our tests reveled that.” “Your...your tests?” Corizon glared in silent rage. “What the hell are you talking about?” “All in good time, Commander...All in good time...” He woke in a cold sweat, a piled heap in the still, new floor of the Excalibur-C. The memories were so close to the surface it hurt, but were fading now. Slightly disoriented he tried to stand, only to fall to the ground once more. Resolving himself to not give into the inner turmoil still raging inside his brain, he forced himself to stand and look at his reflection in the windows. He closed his eyes and opened them. He saw only himself...for now.

The lights were low in his temporary quarters on the Antares Prime Station. Something was...different. A scent he vaguely recognized hung low in the air. His eyes, which unlike humans, were exceptional in low light, and they searched the room quickly. A slight movement on the edge of his peripheral vision. Bam. He extended his claws put himself into a ready position. “Damn, Checkers,” said a voice directly beside him and to his right, just within his reach. “You really are as paranoid as they told me you'd be.” Relaxing, Corizon turned to face the voice. “Old habits...” Corizon found himself staring at a 20-something human male dressed in all back, holding a phaser riffle in his hands, it was pointed at Corizon. “Something tells me you didn't bring that to shoot me.” “Back up,” the 'kid' said, “Never can be to careful with you old folks.” “I am not that old,” Corizon said in a huff. “To you.” “Point taken,” Corizon said sitting down on the modest couch. “Now why are you here?” “Munich sent me,” the younger man said approaching Corizon, and lowering his weapon. “They figured it'd been long enough to bring you back in.” “I was wondering how long it would be before they sent someone.” “They told me to apologize to you for...using you, they said...” “I'd understand?” “...That was exactly it.” Corizon rolled his eyes. “So why else did they send you?” “To give you this,” the other man said, handing Corizon an isochip. “You still remember what to do?” Closing his eyes, “Yep.” “Cool!” “Get it over with.” The next thing Corizon felt was the twitching of his muscles as the phaser riffle the young ATAG operative held went up quickly and shot him in the chest, stunning him. It seemed like the longest sleep ever, but it was only half-an-hour later when he woke up with the hang-over from hell, and isochip laying a few feet from him. Why they had to continue to maintain the silly rule about shooting each other...he shook his head as he got rid of the cobwebs and threw the isochip in the bag he'd already started packing for the move to Excalibur. T-minus two days till launch, and he was finally ready to move onto the ship.

Excalibur Bridge The bridge of the new USS Excalibur is a complete redesign of the Akira class control center to coincide with the new variant. In reflection of its new, multi-mission emphasis, the Excalibur's bridge has been expanded to incorporate more stations with variable uses, as well as providing more space for the standard duty stations. All in all, the new design should lend to a more productive and enjoyable experience for bridge personnel. The most desired position in all of Starfleet has a new look, and location. Rather than being sunk into the bridge as in most recent bridge designs, the CO will now have a bird's-eye view of the entire control center. Elevated a half meter above the outer ring and 1.5 meters above the helm, this "perch" will allow the Captain to monitor the proceedings at every station without obstruction. The Captain's Chair (CC) itself can swivel 360°, so that even the MSD can be seen. The major reason for this, though, is the newest feature, and a Starfleet first. Due to the success of the EMH program and the necessity of installing holoprojectors in key areas, bridges are now able to fully use holograms. Of course, one can't program the bridge to be a vacation spot, as this would violate many regulations. Now, however, thanks to new imaging technology and specially placed sensors, the bridge can provide a 360° view of surrounding space. Following the level of the floor, this holo-view will extend outside of the center railing and will allow those inside the ability to see the space around them as has only been possible in holodecks and stellar cartography labs. The uses of this, from advanced tactical views to providing the bridge crew with the opportunity to see the phenomena they are exploring will truly give those personnel the best data possible. Other staples of the starship bridge have changed as well. The main viewer is now entirely holographic, and can be resized based on the needs of the mission. Within the center ring, the crew of the USS Excalibur will find two fully rotatable platforms. The Executive Officer's Platform to starboard as well as the new Auxilliary Tactical Platform can both rotate through 360°, allowing the best use of the new half-sphere holo-view. Dual in-service turbolifts will provide quick access to and from the bridge from either side of the catamaran hull, The high spherical dome over the bridge allows the holo-view full room to work, as well as providing the bridge with a much more open feel. The outer ring stations are equipped with much more console space and full wall screens to provide those duty officers the best possible data for their mission. All of this functionality should not rule out style, however, and the designers of the new bridge have taken this into account. All throughout the bridge, you will find the shine of steel to reflect the ship's namesake. The brushed duranium walls provide excellent acoustics as well as providing scientifically designed "easy-on-the-eyes" reflectivity. The deep charcoal carpeting is inlayed with strips of burgundy along the walls and railings, and it's durable and cushioned installation will ensure that even stand-up operations at the auxilliary consoles do not become tiring. Those fortunate enough to have seats will sit in adjustable chairs with proper lumbar support, and even Orion officers could not complain about the deep burgundy synth-leather. The center area is a circle to reflect on the Round Table of the Excalibur legends, and is made with genuine Amboya Burl hand-rail and complimentary steel balustrade. As one looks over at the platinum engraved dedication plaque near the ready room entrance, one can look down to see inlayed carpet in the shape of the legendary sword in the exact center of the bridge forward of the CC. Besides providing an aesthetic boost for the space, it can also stand as a reminder of the purpose behind the weapon, and stand guard over the crew of the new USS Excalibur NCC-2004-C. Top View Color Swatch

CREW QUARTERS SYSTEMS Enlisted, Flight, Marine, and Crew Quarters: Standard Living Quarters are provided for both Starfleet Non-Commissioned Officers, Marines, Flight Crew and Ensigns. These persons are expected to share their room with other crewmates due to space restrictions aboard the starship. Crewmembers share quarters with up to 4 others. Accommodations include 1 bedrooms with four bunks, two to a set, with a small work/commons area. A communal ultrasonic shower/head room is located off of each barrack, and is shared by three other barracks. A food replicator and a personal holographic viewer are located in the living area. Pets are not allowed to crew in these sections.. Officers' Quarters: Starfleet personnel from the rank of Lieutenant Junior Grade up to Commander are given one set of quarters to themselves. In addition, department heads and their assistants are granted such privileges as well, in an effort to provide a private environment to perform off-duty work. These accommodations typically include a small bathroom, a bedroom (with standard bed), a living/work area, a food replicator, an ultrasonic shower, personal holographic viewer, and provisions for pets, depending on the Commanding officer's policy. There are three sizes of Officer's Quarters: Junior (Smallest), Senior (Large), and finally Family (Largest). However, because of the Akira's primary mission, few families are stationed aboard and there are very few of the family size, which have a slightly different configuration from the other two. Executive Quarters: The Captain and Executive Officer of the vessel both have special quarters, located near the bridge. They are located on a higher deck because these two people must be closer to the bridge in the event of an Alert situation. These quarters are much more luxurious than any others on the ship, with the exception of the VIP/Diplomatic Guest quarters. Both the Executive Officer's and the Captain's quarters are larger than standard Officer's Quarters, and this space generally has the following accommodations: a bedroom, living/work area, full bathroom, food replicator, ultrasonic shower, old-fashioned water shower, personal holographic viewer, provisions for pets, and even a null-grav sleeping chamber is optional. These quarters are similar in "comfort" to those of a high-ranking officer's quarters on a Galaxy Class Starship. The Captain's quarters are slightly larger than the Executive Officer's. VIP/Diplomatic Guest Quarters: The Akira Class is a symbol of UFP authority, a tool in dealing with other races. Starfleet intends to use Akira Class in diplomacy several times, and the need to transport or accommodate Very Important Persons, diplomats, or ambassadors may arise. These quarters are located on Deck 3. These quarters include a bedroom, spacious living/work area, personal viewscreen, ultrasonic shower, bathtub/water shower, provisions for pets, food replicator, and a null-grav sleeping chamber. These quarters can be immediately converted to class H, K, L, N, and N2 environments. While smaller in size than those facilities aboard a Galaxy Class or the newer Norway Class vessel, they are still far superior in fit and finish when compared to Starfleet Officer quarters.

Four months have passed since the Excalibur-B was decommissioned and the entire former crew of the Excalibur-B found themselves strung across the Federation in new roles. But a few weeks prior to tonight sim, most of them received new orders that, though vague, have required them to report to Antares Shipyard. Rumors are circulating that a meeting to be held at 1500 in the main observation lounge of Antares Shipyard Base will hold some clue as to their reason for being there. We open with with everyone gathered in the Ob Lounge on Antares. The time is approx. 1445.

The table in the main conference room of Starbase 512 was standard issue. It had a silvery-metallic ring around the edges that encircled opaque plate glass. A carafe of water and several glasses sat lonely in the center. Around the table, two admirals, a captain and a man dressed in civilian clothing of dark hues stared back and forth at each other until the door slid open and the silver-haired figure of Captain Ah-Windu Corizon walked into the room. “Captain,” the lead Admiral said with a slight smile. “I am glad you could make it on such short notice.” “Of course, I try not to keep the Admiralty waiting.” He nodded to each of the people the room and took his seat. He recognized both of the Admirals—Myi'ama and Shanti—the captain, he assumed, was Serith Unfal, the commanding officer of the station, judging by his green skin and purple eyes. The forth person at the table though, the man in civilian clothing, he was a mystery. “You know Myi'ama,” Shanti said with a motion. “This is Captain Unfal and Senator Karith.” Corizon smiled politely offering his hand to Karith. “Senator,” he said politely before nodding towards Unfol. “Captain, thank you for your warm hopsitality. The crew is already enjoying themselves.” “Of course, Captain.” “I am sure you're wondering why we pulled you all the way from Amagori to 512?” “The thought had crossed my mind.” Myi'ama gave him a look as if to say, “like you don't already know.” “Off the record,” Shanti said. “I couldn't be happier about the stunt you pulled at Wakith.” “For the record?” “You were never there.” Corizon frowned. “I see.” Myi'ama nodded. “I think we should tell you that you weren't sent there by accident.” “I had a feeling.” “Starfleet, ATAG and the Federation Council have been worried for the last few months that certain elements within our own government have been...” Myi'ama paused and looked towards the Senator. “Playing fast and loose with the rules.” Lifting an ear, “If Wakith is 'playing loose with the rules,'” Corizon said trailing off. Shanti nodded. “They've been getting bolder.” Unfol leaned forward, his third and fourth eyes blinking in unison. “A few months ago I ran across...certain elements trying to funnel supplies into the Tholian government into a resistence cell that had cropped up.” “It took all the political wrangling in the world to keep Unfol out of trouble.” “For doing his job?” Myi'ama once again sighed heavily. “There's a lot we need to tell you.” “Clearly.” “But first...” “Yes?” “I have some bad news,” Shanti said gravely. “We've been dealing with the fall-out from Wakith.” “Fall out?” “I told you...we've got a lot to catch you up on.” “Apparently the same people who wanted you out of the Gamma Quadrant now think you're more of a threat to them here.” “Oh really?” “Yes” “So what are they going to do about it? Strip me of my rank? Toss me into the brig?” Shanti looked at Myi'ama and grinned. “Not exactly.” Myi'ama smiled. “Looks like Starfleet Command has decided to honor your request to mount a search for the Founders as you agreed to do in exchange with help from the Dominion in dealing with the Scorpiad crisis.” “About damn time,” Corizon said, a hint of triumph in his voice. “When does Oberon set off?” Myi'ama took a deep breath, and Corizon gave her a puzzled look. “You won't be going on Oberon.” “Those Sons of ....” “You'll be going,” Shanti cut him off quickly. “On the new Excalibur-C.” Corizon looked blankly from one to the other and just gaffed. “The Excalibur-C?” “Yes, she's under construction now at the Antares Shipyards.” “I am picking my own crew you know....” “Yes, yes...all in good time. But we have a lot to talk about.” -- Three weeks later. Corizon sat in his office observing the construction of the USS Excalibur-C. She was going to be a fine ship, no doubt about it. Now she just needed a fine crew. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it with his people. Speaking to no one in particular he began to rattle of a list of positions needing filled. “Operations Officer....Lieute...Commander Laarell Teykier...” “Chief of Engineering....Lt. Commander Tandaris Admiran....” And the list went on, one by one he filled the positions on Excalibur with the crew of his old ship, filling out the orders and shipping them off for 'approval' from Starfleet HQ. -- Two days later “Captain,” Lt. Collette said, nervously to Corizon. “There's some problems here with your requests for officers.” “Yes?” “Well some of them are no longer with Starfleet or are on assignment with other people...” “Like?” “Lt. Commander Admiran has left Starfleet,” Collette said pointing with a PADD. “And Lt.(JG) Victria is still tied up with Starfleet Intelligence...” “Then draft Admiran back into the service,” he said plainly. “And the Lt?” “I've already taken care of it. Put the orders through and leave the wrangling to me.” “Of course sir,” Collette said, mentally sighing. “I'll put them in shortly.”

The Oberon skated along the the edges of a cloud of asteroid bits and pieces. On the bridge science officer Haskie N'Saar was doing a double, no triple take on the readings on her screen. Glancing towards the communication console across the bridge from her, she caught the attention of Garrett Johnson, a young, auburn haired ensign whom, though she'd not admit it to him, was not only dashingly handsome but one of the most skilled officers on the ship. “What's up Hask?” He said in his typical boyish manner, his hair flopping as he made his way across the bridge of the New Orleans-class vessel. She smiled slightly at her 'nickname,' and pointed to the screen. “We've been taking advantage of our proximity to the Soramaro Array,” she said. “We've been sending the information and readings we got on that whole business back at the Uturian Cloud back to Earth and to some scientists at the Nallin Science Outpost...they're doing some work on intergalactic weather phenomena...” The look on Johnson's face told her that she should probably cut to the chase, as the humans might say. “Well we'd been experiencing some interference...” “Ion storm maybe?” “No,” her response was quick, but not condescendingly so. “I started actually looking at the feed, and it appears that there's some sort of...I don't know...interlaced message being bounced through the array, but it's really garbled and...” Now Johnson was interested and he was already looking at the readout on her screen. “It's almost like some one is interlacing a message across a dozen or so bands of subspace channels.” N'Saar nodded. “I wouldn't have even noticed if we weren't sending the information out on a couple different channels.” “I am bringing up the entire register of channels that Array is equipped to handle,” Johnson said as his fingers worked over the console. “It looks like its on twelve...maybe thirteen different channels. Let's see if we can isolate one.” A few minutes later Johnson had managed to isolate a piece of the message, but all he could make out was a scrambled, solitary shape. “That's interesting.” “What if in order to read the message you have to bring all the pieces together?” By now, the officer on watch, Lt. Commander Alex Huzina was curios what the two officers were doing and had made his way over to watch over there shoulder. “Perhaps,” he said grabbing their attention. “But are you sure we should be doing this?” “Well there's no harm is there?” Johnson said. Smiling at his enthusiasm, N'Saar quickly added, “Besides what ever that is...it's interfering with normal ship-to-shore communications. Don't we have an obligation to to investigate it.” Huzina grinned, he as just as curious as they were. “I think so. Crewman Ellington, get Commander Jueng up here, and ask him if we should rouse the Captain.” “Yes, sir.” “Alright I think I can manage to isolate all the different pieces...let's see what happens when I...” Johnson's fingers flew over the console as he extracted the feed from each of the different communication channels and overlaid them on each other. The whole process took probably twenty-minutes, and gave enough time for Jueng to appear on the bridge and take up a position flanking Huzina. Huzina started to talk, but Jueng waved him off. “Ellington filled me in on the way up.” “Good, I think Johnson is about ready to compile the strands from the different channels.” “...And done.” The screen went dim for a few seconds as the computer processed the commands. When the screen came back to life, instead of communications feed, or even raw data...something none of the crew had expected to happen, happened: the entire bridge went dim as the red alert klaxon began to chirp and the lighting switched to combat mode, every screen on the bridge flickered, then just as Johnson/NSaar's console was already doing a large single glyph filled the screen. “Gamma?” They all asked at the very same time. “I think,” Jueng said after a few moments of silence. “Someone should get the Captain up here...” “Way ahead of you,” they all heard the unmistakable voice of Captain Corizon come from a few feet behind them. “What in the devil is going on?” “We'll sir...” He waved a hand. “Gamma.” “Uhhh....” Johnson said, though the rest of the group were doing the same thing visually. “That sounded like you know what that means?” “Yes,” Corizon's voice tinged with annoyance, though it did seem like it was directed at the crew. “Why did you happen upon a communication—no I don't want to know—how did you manage to do that?” Johnson started to speak, but N'Saar cut him off. “Sir we've been using the Array to send information back to Starfleet science and we'd come across interference...Johnson was helping me see what it was when we noticed a message being interlaced in pieces across a dozen channels.” “I cleared them with seeing what it was,” Huzina said quickly, hoping to keep the Dameon's wrath from lashing at the two younger officers. They all seemed surprised when in the place of growling Corizon was looking at the console closer, mostly at the readout on the messages. “Can we track where the message is originating?” Blinking, but not asking any questions, Johnson began tapping quickly. “Wakith.” Lifting an ear as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. “Clear the bridge, everyone but the four of you...shoo.” “Sir?” “You heard me...everyone but the four of you.” Obediently the bridge crew exited leaving only Johnson, N'Saar, Huzina, Jueng and Corizon staring at the Gamma insignia on the monitors of the Oberon bridge. When the last of the crew filed out, Corizon let out a small sigh. “Gamma codding is used only by Starfleet Intelligence, ATAG and Starfleet Command. It's somewhat of a closely guarded secret.” “Sir?” “It's used when one of those organizations want to send something to someone else in the organization without anyone knowing about it. It's stealthy, well encrypted and hard to track.” “It's designed so that even if the wrong people in Starfleet come across it and figure out how to put the message back together it will lock out the computers till someone from SI can fix it.” “I assume that means someone knows we've came across this?” “If I weren't aboard, yes?” “Sir?” “Computer, release Gamma Lockout.” “Authorization required.” “Authorization, Corizon, Ah-Windu. Captain. ATAG Identification: Five, Nine, Beta, Two, Dash, Five, One, Theta, Charlie” “Voice print recognized: Captain Ah-Windu Corizon, ATAG Field Operative. Releasing Gamma Lockout now.” “What the hell is ATAG?” Jueng couldn't help himself. “Advanced Tactical Assessment Group.” “Never heard of it,” Johnson said despite himself. “I don't doubt it. ATAG is a classified organization tasked with assessing tactical threats to the Federation.” “So you're some sort of secret agent planted on our ship?” Huzina questioned, looking directly at the Captain. “Not knowingly,” he said, slightly annoyed at the game of twenty questions. “What does that mean?” “It means that I haven't been contacted about being on a mission for ATAG since I got back from the Gamma Quadrant.” They all looked at him. “You mean this was an accident you being here.” “I am beginning to suspect otherwise, but you leave that to me.” “Yes, sir,” came the unison reply. “Now lets see what this message is about.” “Aye.” “Computer, play back message, authorization Corizon Beta One.” The screens on the bridge flickered, and all but the main screen went dark. Soon the main viewer flashed with an image of the Starfleet parabola, followed by a detailed message from a shadowy Starfleet officer. It was a status report on the Wakith system. After listening to it, Corizon could see why they wanted them out of the area. “Those son's of bitches.” The others were almost too shocked to say anything. Corizon though was going a mile a minute. “Jueng, did we file a flight plan with 113 before we left?” “Yes.” “Damn.” “Sir?” “Johnson...how good are your hacking skills?” The young ensign wasn't sure how to respond. Actually no one was. The entire last five minutes had seemed like something out of a movie, and here Corizon was behaving like this was par for the course. Not only was he not just shocked at the communique but he seemed like he was already well into planning something. “Uhh well...that depends.” “Can you hack one-thirteens databank's to plant a new flight plan for us?” They were all blinking, and looking at Corizon again. “Sir?” “We need to be...” “Huzina, how many hours are we from Wakith now?” “At maximum warp?” “Yes.” “Twelve.” “How many hours till their,” he pointed at the screen, “zero hour?” “13, sir.” “We need to project our course so we'd be with in half an hour of that local space.” “I don't understand sir, you're not possibly planning on going in guns blazing are you?” “No.” “Then what?” “I am planning on interrupting their little party. They'll call it off if they see another fleet ship.” “Then why all the subterfuge? We can be there before the party.” “Right, but we need to make it look like sloppy work on their part. I don't want us all to get court martialed.” “Come again?” “Unauthorized viewing of a Gamma-level document is a court martial offense.” “Even if the contents expose illegal activity?” “Yes.” “Damn.” “I guess we don't have much choice then?” “Not really.” “Then we'd better get to work.”

The diversionary trip to the Uturian Cloud had produced some interesting scans...if you were a scientist. Corizon was not. Nevertheless, he'd pretended to be interested as his science teams and his ever trusty Chief of Science Marcos Jakobi rattled on for hours about how fascinating the phenomena was to them. It had come as a small relief to Corizon, however, when the phenomena dissipated and it was no longer an object of interest for his team. Oberon had spent nearly two weeks studying the peculiarity of the whole thing, and Corizon was ready to move on. With no other orders in hand or anything else of note going on in their current sector, he'd directed the helm to make for Qalarn sector where they'd be getting scattered reports of unusual energy bursts from deep space. He'd retired for the evening and was sitting in his dimly-lit quarters reading a book a friend had sent him just before Oberon sat sail--"He cried in a whisper at some image, at some vision,—he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath—"'The horror! The horror!'--he wasn't quite sure what the unspoken message was exactly, but was sure that the humans history was as bloody as any in the Federation. Sitting the book down on his lap, he leaned back in the leather chase he currently occupied and yawned furiously. It was just then that he heard the precursory chirp that meant he was about to get comm.'d from the bridge. Sitting up he patiently waited the few seconds it took for Ensign Mi'jJho's awkward, yet articulate voice to pipe into his quarters. “Captain,” Mi'jJho said in his usual eerie tone. “I have correspondence fromStarbase One-thirteen, Admiral Nikata on for you personally.” The E'xctejn phrasing had initially caused Corizon to do double takes, but after a few weeks, he'd began to understand the awkwardness of the mop of tentacles and air-sacks. “Put the Admiral on down here, Ensign.” “Sir, yes.” Smiling despite himself at the E'xctejn, Corizon moved to his desk and hit the button causing a monitor to rise from the table. The Starfleet 'parabola' soon appeared on the screen and vanished into Nikata's angular face. Corizon tipped his head slightly, then brought his yellow eyes to bare on the Admiral. “Admiral.” “Captain.” “It's good to talk to you again, something I can do for you.” “Yes, Captain.” Nikata's voice belied something, but Corizon couldn't be sure what exactly it was. “I understand that your heading towards the Qalarn sector?” “That's correct, we've got scattered reports of high-energy bursts coming from deep-space,” Corizon said politely. “We thought we'd check it out.” “I am going to need to divert you from Qalarn...there some trouble going on in the Wakith system and we're advising ships to stay clear of that sector.” Lifting his eyebrows and ears, Corizon narrowed his glance towards the Rear-Admiral. He'd not heard anything about anything going on in Wakith. It was an unusual play for Starfleet to be sure. “I hadn't heard of anything going on in that system, may I ask what kind of trouble?” “Oh...nothing major just a local problem,” the Admiral said as his eyes darted off screen for the very briefest of moments. “We'd just rather not get any of our ships tangled up in it.” “I see,” Corizon said, hiding his curiosity. “What would you like us to do instead.” “I understand the Amagori Outpost is having trouble with their relay network perhaps you could give them a hand.” Corizon started to speak, but caught a slight glance from Nikata that said everything he needed to know. “Understood Admiral, we'll make course for the Amagori Outpost.” “Very well, have a safe trip, Captain. Starbase 113 out.” The screen flashed the 'parabola' again before descending out of sight and into the desk. Corizon was left once more in the dim light of his quarters with more questions than answers. If they were trying to divert people away from Wakith...Amagori really wasn't the place to be sending them. It was only a dozen hours away from the edges of the Qularn sector, but then how many people really knew that much about Amagori? The only reason Corizon had known anything about it was from the Dominion War. The Dominion had made a serious attempt at getting control of Amagori because it was in range of Starfleet's Soramaro Arrai, one of the most advanced communication arrays in quadrant. Other than that though, Amagori was relatively unimportant. “Helm,” he said tapping his direct line to the bridge. “Alter course to take us to the Amagori Outpost.” “Yes, sir,” came the quick response, though Corizon didn't recognize the voice. Looking back to his book that laid on the chair he made his way over and picked it up and sat backdown. Back into the Heart of Darkness he thought to himself. In so many ways.

The night was growing later and Corizon was still on the bridge, pulling a double and working Gamma and Delta shifts. It wasn't that he particularly need too, though...it was just something he chose to do once a week. At least as a Commanding officer, the headache of putting together a schedule for the bridge and senior officers no longer feel to him, their were some perks he kept telling himself. The compact, mini-Galaxy New Orleans-class Oberon sailed through empty space beneath him, the panels humming all around him. By now, most of the crew not on shift were deep in sleep and only the Delta shift officers were keeping her running. Over three weeks had passed since they left port at Mars and got underway, and he was finally starting to settle in. Hell, no one had even taken a shot at him—a new record. The crew, as Myi'ama had put it was solid, and Corizon found them almost as good as his crew on the Excalibur, though like them, he hadn't made a connection with anyone of them. A thought about that brought a small smile to his face and his fangs caught the lighting on the bridge; he'd overheard one of the ensigns in the mess talking about 'that allusive canine that runs the place.' That they were figuring out that he didn't deal with trivial problems best left for his mino...underli...support staff was encouraging. Give them time, a voice in the back of his head said...they'll get over their intimidation of you and be asking you for dating advice or worse. Borderline scowling at that thought, Corizon focused his mental energies on more productive matters. Their charge was fairly simple: catalog any gaseous anomalies in the Kadaina Belt. It had so far been less than thrilling...only a class four comet and a small uncharted system with no mentionable traits beyond being undiscovered. “Status report?” “Proceeding along proscribed course sir,” the mop of hair that called itself a helmsman said. “Sensors continue to show nothing of note, still tracking that level 2 ion storm, but it doesn't look like it will be a problem.” “Very well, carry on.” “Sir,” the science officer behind him said more alarmed than even the paranoid Corizon expected. “I am detecting something unusual about seven light years starboard.” So much for a quiet mission. “Report.” “I was doing a long range scan of the Uturian Cloud...boredom mostly...and something is really...well odd.” Corizon turned around his chair to face the science station to his left. “Elaborate, crewman.” Avoiding direct eye contact the crewman, Manzetti, glanced at her board again and shook her head. “I am getting some strange readings out of it...almost like...like...” “Like,” Corizon said, making a questioning motion with his head. Humans... “I am not sure how to describe it in simple terms, sir.” “I'm a big boy...” Manzetti blushed slightly, insulting her commanding officer her first time working with him had not been her intention. “I wasn't trying too...” “I know,” he said patiently. “Try me.” “It's like its resonating charged particles...like...a thundercloud.” “Fascinating,” Corizon said with a Vulcan-esque eyebrow raise. “It looks like the Ion-storm is being drawled towards it.” “Excellent.” Opening her mouth before realizing he was being sarcastic she closed it for a few seconds before forming a more appropriate response. “It would be prudent, sir, in my opinion if we were to observe the phenomena closer, sir.” “I'd tend to agree...” Corizon turned his chair back to face forward. “Helm alter course to get with in closer sensor range to the event.” “Crewman, you'll want to forward your report to Lt. Commander Jakobi, I am sure he'll want to be up to speed.” Pretending to be interested in this scientific phenomena, Corizon sat up in his chair as the Oberon adjusted its course. Here he was really hoping for Pirates or something more interesting than a spatial cumulus nimbus. Such was the lift of an ordinary command.

Thomas Waterstone sat his coffee mug down on his desk with a thud as he read through the file in front of him. Some days, he wished he really didn't have to do all the legal dirty work for the Intelligence community. Today was such a day; as special counsel for the Federation Council, it came to him to handle any such problems they ran into when they went into the moral and legal gray area, or at least when they got caught in that zone. The case at hand was rather bothersome, if only because one of the Joy-class Androids had become involved. That alone was enough to give the thirty-something Waterstone a throbbing headache. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate their concern for the Federation's well being and their penchant for reminding the Council of the limitation placed upon them, it was just they had to pick the most inconvenient fights ever. Victria, for example, was not exactly something that the Security Council of the Federation wanted to talk about openly in the public, nor did Starfleet Intelligence want to go into at any length. That, however, seemed unlikely now that Joy was going off on some tirade about the poor little blood sucker's rights being infringed. Now it fell to him make the whole situation disappear. He was already getting a pain between his temples has he imagined what a day in court would be like with Joy-Insert-Number-Here. She's spend the better part of the day rambling on about the 'Guarantees' like it were some holy book, and about how Starfleet had limitations and blah blah blah blah... . Truly a most droll afternoon. The upside, of course, was that he'd already moved to have any official proceedings closed to the public and off-record as a matter of 'Federation Security,' a request that was almost sure to be granted within the next few hours. At least this way, the whole subject would be kept out of the Federation media. With that looming problem mostly under control, it only left him with the prickly detail of proving why Joy was wrong. Easier said than done, he huffed to himself as he again read through the file. In the broadest sense, he didn't disagree with the Android entirely, but what he found himself wondering, is if she really understood what was at stake. Lieutenant, Junior Grade, as he'd went out of his way to point out in every conversation with the judiciary, Victria had been privy to highly classified information. Not only that, she'd obtained information concerning Starfleet technology that was still considered military secrets. If any of that information fell into any of the Federation's advisories, even if it were unwittingly, then the entire Federation could be in jeopardy. Of course, he was beginning to realize that legally speaking this actually wasn't all that complicated. Joy had petitioned for a writ of habeas corpus, which implied that Lieutenant Victria was being detained. She was not, technically, being detained. Simply put, Starfleet had exercised its right to refuse her request to resign her commission under its authority, and placed a restriction on her travel as part of her orders. And if the Android wanted to get technical, Waterstone already had the proper sections of the uniform code of military justice popping into his head. A smile was beginning to form on his face as he was realizing that this was going to be a rather short court battle that would end, at the very least, with it in appeals for a few months as the Federation Court system tried to sort out the legality of the issue, at which point it no longer became his problem.

Earth’s sun slowly crept over the orange-red disk the humans called Mars and bathed the grey objects floating in her orbit with glinting rays. One of the objects, the Oberon, floated gently in the caress of the Hashimoto Dry-dock Facility. The bulk of her hull busied with worker bees and the occasional floating spaceman. Approaching from the surface, a small docking pod left the blinding sunrise for the eclipse of the dry-dock; for the first time her passenger laid eyes on his new command. Corizon smiled wryly as his golden disks filled with the mirror image of his charge. Only two types of vessels were ever assigned to ‘catalog gaseous anomalies;’ those whose crews had seen either not enough space time or to much. He’d half been expecting the Oberon to be an old Connie. It came as a most pleasant surprise when the unmistakable figure of a--New Orleans-class starship filled the window of the small docking pod, her unmistakable mini-Galaxy look undiminished in his eyes by the swift lines of the newer ships. “Approaching Oberon,” the pilot’s voice broke his concentration. “We are cleared for docking, sir.” “Take us in, Crewman.” The young enlistee smiled towards the Dameon commander in his dress whites and went back to piloting the pod, maneuvering it deftly into the airlock with a gentle thud. Corizon nodded to the officer to open the doors. It’d been less than 36-hours since he’d said good bye to his Excalibur and already he was finding the Oberon to be tolerable and the crew decidedly competent. The first officer, Jueng, had found Corizon almost immediately after his transport had arrived at Mars and caught him up on the situation aboard the Oberon—the efficiency of the man had astounded Corizon. Jueng, via comm. channels had also introduced Corizon to several of his new staff. And despite his best efforts not to, he’d found himself comparing them to his former staff, assigning them a mental designation as his Teykier or Admiran or even Segami. There was a human expression about the body not yet being cold…and he’d decided, to his own annoyance, that it applied. A sign escaped his thin lips as he left the docking pod and stepped onto the Oberon for the first time. He sniffed at the air as he did so, finding it slightly staler…more antiseptic than the heavier air of the Excalibur which lingered with familiar scents. As he walked through the airlock bulkhead and into the widened hallway of the reception area for the main airlock, he found himself flanked by a row of crewmen on either side of the carpeted path, all in dress uniform. The bosun whistle caused his ears to perk as they came to a crisp attention. Glancing momentarily at the well groomed uniforms of his officers, he smiled towards them and the boatswain. “At ease.” They snapped to a steady, if not anxious rest. By now, Corizon surmised they’d all heard horror stories of the canine Captain from hell and his penchant towards blowing things up on the first mission. “I’ve been duly ordered and required to take command of this vessel,” Corizon said firmly. “Is the acting Commander present?” “Sir, yes sir.” Jueng said sharply, stepping out of the line of officers and turning on heel to face Corizon. “To Commander Talin Jueng, acting commanding officer of the USS Oberon, NCC-24561, I am herby requested and required, under orders of Starfleet Command to relinquish command of this vessel to Captain Ah-Windu Corizon. I have confirmed the authenticity of and do fully comply with these orders. Captain, do you concur?” “I concur. Counter orders, to Captain Ah-Windu Corizon, commanding officer USS Excalibur, NCC-2004-B. I have been hereby ordered and required to relinquish command of the USS Excalibur and report with haste to the Hashimoto Dry-dock Facility to assume immediate command of the USS Oberon, NCC-24561. I have confirmed the authenticity of and do fully comply with these orders. Commander, you are relieved of your duty as acting commanding officer, please resume your duties as Executive officer.” “Yes, sir.” “Ships officer, note in the log that at 1140 hours, I have assumed command of this vessel. All standing orders remain in place. Commander, dismiss the crew.” Jueng nodded and turned to face the assembled crew. “All hands are dismissed.” Corizon watched them leave and waited for Jueng to finish a quick conversation with the quartermaster before approaching him. “Commander,” he said, “I assume that everything is still on the schedule you provided to me earlier?” “Yes, Captain.” Jueng said eagerly, a hint of pride showing in his inflexion. “We’re still on to set off at 2300 local.” “Excellent,” Corizon said as he waved off the crewman getting ready to carry his lone duffle off to his quarters. “If you need me, I’ll be in my quarters getting settled in.” “Not going to make an inspection, sir?” “Maybe once we’ve gotten off.” Jueng smiled, “Aye, Captain. Anything else?” “Not that I am aware of.” They parted companies and Corizon made his way down the corridors of the Oberon and to his quarters; while they weren’t as large as those he’d had on the Excalibur they were actually more fully equipped. Some of that, he surmised, was because the Oberon had been built at a time when the Federation wasn’t going to war every other month and they were still doing real exploration. That thought lingered for a moment, and if he didn’t know better he thought he saw Victria’s reflection in the arched windows of his new quarters. He shook the uncomfortable feeling and tossed his duffle on the soft, mauve couch. There was little he could do about that situation till he wasn’t on icy terms in Munich. Besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t agree with their decision, just their actions. Just as he was about to explore the second room, a glinting green bottle caught his eye on the desk. It did not take him long to recognize it as a bottle of French wine. There was a small tag with scribbled writing on it and he picked it up to read it. “Checkers, I thought you’d like this…at least this way you won’t have to drink the water in Gaul…Best of luck and keep in touch.” ~ Cleopatra Putting back down, he smiled. ‘Cleopatra’ was the call sign for one of his oldest friends in ATAG, and one of the few people whose opinion actually mattered. It was his subtle way of confirming exactly what Corizon had thought—he was being sent off to Gaul till things died down. “Well I might as well enjoy my stay in exile then…”

Corizon let the door of the lift slide shut behind him before letting a bemused smirk surface. Occasionally, he'd found that throwing a temper tantrum could be effective in achieving a goal. Segami had been far too brash, and if he though he'd have to listen to Corizon's pedantic ranting again, it might cause the young Trill to think before acting. Even if it didn't, though, Corizon had to admit it did let him vent. He pressed the control button and sent his lift towards his quarters. The next hour or so of his life expected to be decidedly unpleasant, and having to wear a dress uniform to be brow-beaten wasn't making the situation any better. -- After pulling on his dress uniform, running a comb through his cropped white hair and switching out the golden ear-rings in his left ear, Corizon set towards the main observation lounge of the massive Spacedock complex. Nodding to the security officer who stood watch at the airlock, Corizon sighed as his boots took foot on the stations' hard, unyielding deck plating. Moving down the hall he came to gallery walkway lined with floor to ceiling windows, Earth crowding the view. Looking at the blue-green, spotted white marble of a planet there was a feeling of security, nostalgia and angst wrapped into one swelling inside his mind. It had been nearly two years since he'd seen Earth from any distance, and now he was back to the place he'd called home almost longer than his real home, yet now it felt somehow...alien. Crowd noise broke his train of thought. He could make out the chatter of officers, happy to be back home. Happy to be away from the troubles of the Gamma Quadrant. Homecoming was always a joyous event, and after the long tour of duty Excalibur had been through, he couldn't blame them. “Captain,” a voice called to him. Looking in the general direction of the voice, his yellow eyes narrowed focusing on the figure the sound had emanated from—a tall, lanky figure with four arms, purple skin, and glistening blue eyes. “Admiral Myi'ama,” Corizon said, nodding his head respectfully. “I was hoping I'd get to talk to you.” “In good time,” Myi'ama said with a sly grin. “But first, I understand the Council members in attendence want to meet with you....” “Of course, sir. I'll find you after I've been paraded around.” “Make sure that you do...” -- "Captain..." Corizon heard the muffled sounds of the Yagjanian as he nodded for the final time. "I do hope all produces much joy for you in the future." “Thank you,” Corizon said as he began walking off from the final Council member he had to meet with before heading off to meet with Ambassador N'Dak and finally the Admiral. It's good to see you again Ah-Windu. You too...Ambassador. I hate that title. I know. You never change. I try not to make it a habit. So you wanted to see me? Yes. About? What those politicians won't tell you. I thought they were all a little to friendly. You've put the Federation in a difficult political situation with your dealings with the Dominion and the Hundred. How so? Promising to go looking for the Founders. I didn't really have much of a choice. It's not like I could call up Starfleet Command and get talk it over with them. Admiral Day approved, as did their personally appointed representative... Yes, yes I know that. But you know how these things are... Ugh... Starfleet doesn't want that sort of cowboy diplomacy becoming fashionable. Understandable. But it was a difficult situation. Is that why I haven't gotten any response on why Fleet hasn't gone forward with that mission? That's what my contacts in Starfleet are telling me. Frankly most people in the upper echelons aren't exactly upset to see the Gamma Quadrant in turmoil. And if it weren't for the fact you managed to save the Quadrant from invasion...you'd be persona non grata at more than just ATAG. Not surprising. Well you'd better go talk to the Admiral... It was good seeing you again Koshic. And you to Ah-Windu. Take care of yourself. -- “Captain,” Myi'ama said, offering him a drink from the table next to her with one of her four arms. “I take it you've had enough of the schmoozing.” “You know me...” “Yes, I do.” Corizon smiled despite himself and took the glass of champagne. The feeling of impending doom was circling like a vulture around him, but he'd rather not show that in front of Starfleet brass...let alone his crew. “So when will repairs begin on the Excalibur? I was hoping to get back to the Gamma Quadrant sooner than latter. It's going to take time to look for the Founders.” Myi'ama cringed slightly, and switched the glass into one of her lower arms. “I was hoping to avoid talking about that right away.” “I'd rather not.” “Well I guess there's no easy way to tell you...” “Yes?” “Excalibur will not be repaired.” “What?” Corizon said, though his surprise had been mitigated by his conversations with command earlier. “She's taken a ton of damage, Corizon...and right now...Fleet just can't justify pouring that many resources into saving her.” “I understand.” Silence engulfed the pair for a moment before Corizon spoke again. “So when will the Excalibur-C be ready...” “There won't be an Excalibur-C.” That was a surprise, and Corizon didn't bother hiding it either. “Excuse me?” “There will be no Excalibur-C...not at this time anyway.” “May I ask why?” “Frankly...we don't feel it's needed.” “I respectfully disagree...the Gamma Quadrant is...” “Is not going to go to hell in a hand basket with one less Federation battleship in it. And frankly, we'd rather not place so many assets in an area that can so easily be isolated from us.” Corizon twitched his ears. This was a battle he knew he wasn't going to win. “Again, I disagree, but I know when not to pick a fight.” “That would be wise.” “So what will I be doing?” “Fleet has decided to give you command of the USS Oberon.” “That's good...” “But you will not be heading up the mission to go looking for the Founders...” Again he didn't bother hiding his annoyance or surprise. “Excuse me?” “You will not be heading up the mission to go looking for the Founders...” Myi'ama repeated herself firmly. “There's no one else better for the job...if I may be so bold.” “I don't disagree.” “Then why...” “Because there will be no such mission.” “But...but the ramifications...” “Yes, failure to act on our part could lead to the destabilization of the Gamma Quadrant. I read your report. But at this time, Starfleet considers it an acceptable risk.” “You mean that they want the Dominion to continue in-fighting?” “Officially, we have no position. Unofficially? Starfleet has little interest in a unified Dominion.” Corizon took a deep breath and exhaled. He understood the position. Hell he even held it himself. But what he worried about was that when the dust cleared, the Dominion would be even more upset that the Federation had gone back on its word because it was convenient. Resignedly Corizon decided not to argue the point any further. “And my crew?” “We've already started reassigning them. I thought I'd let you tell them about the decommissioning before we started sending out the first batch of orders.” She handed him a PADD she'd been keeping behind her back with one of her arms and smiled slightly. “I know you're not happy about this, but its the way its going to be. At least I was able to get you a command...there were some people who wanted to force you out entirely...or give you some hellish assignment on an ice-block.” He shook his head and looked at the woman he'd called a friend for nearly twenty-years. “Thanks Aeyko...I am sorry if I was...short with you before.” “I understand...it's hard.” “Yes...” He took the PADD's and skimmed over them briefly. “I'll let the crew know as soon as I can stomach it.” “Good,” she said patting him on the head. “You'll like the Oberon she's got a good crew. Her captain just stepped down a few weeks ago. And it's a quiet assignment...” “Cataloging gaseous anomalies...” “It was the best I could do...” “When I am not feeling like I've been put in the doghouse for doing my job, I'll thank you.” She winked at him. “I've an appointment with the Thasian Ambassador...I'll be around later if you'd like a drink.” “I am sure I'll want several...” “See you then...”

FROM: Fleet Admiral Nechayev, Admiral Myi'ama, Admiral Sanifrest, Starfleet Command TO: Captain Ah-Windu Corizon, Acting Commanding Officer USS Excalibur CC: Admiral Wayne Day, Commanding Officer, Camelot Station ; Commander Talin Jueng, Executive Officer, USS Oberon SUBJECT: NEW ORDERS Captain Ah-Windu Corizon, you are hereby requested an ordered to relinquish command of the USS Excalibur for immediate decommissioning. Upon such, you are also ordered and required to take command of the USS Oberon, in orbit of Mars. New orders concerning the Oberon will arrive, pending your acquiescence of these orders.

He sat his tray down on the table with a heavy thud. Corizon looked down at the plate of hot food with a slight bemusement. He'd made his way down to The Court, one of dozen such places on the station that offered a strictly human cuisine, and the only one who offered actual cooked meals as opposed to be a replimat. So rarely did he actually eat human meals; like most of his people they tended upset his stomach and cause him to be sick. Frankly though, he needed comfort food, and most of all he needed to be left alone. No one would come looking for him down here. Stabbing at the...what did they call them? Mashed Potatoes. That was it. Stabbing at the mashed potatoes he sighed heavily considering the past few weeks since they'd returned from the alternate universe. Nearly eight months had passed; the Scorpiads and the Dominion had signed a loose armistice and were working on the terms of a more concrete agreement; the Romulans had all but pulled out of the Quadrant, leaving only a handful of their forces and a few dozen staffers for Ambassador N'Kedre; the Hundred were again causing problems for the Dominion; Starfleet had been mum on his agreement with Keevan and Taenix to go looking for the Founders; and to top it all off he'd been persona non grata with ATAG—they weren't even returning his calls. Unfortunately he was apparently on the top of every other agency in Starfleet's list-of-people-to-call-and-pester. Today for example, he'd regurgitated the same report about the Founders being AWOL to no less than half a dozen Admirals, Senators and Federation Council members. It was beginning to grow tiresome. Of course, he'd prefer that to what he'd spent the majority of his time doing the past few weeks—defending every command decision he'd made since they lost contact with the Alpha Quadrant. And that was to say nothing of the grilling he was going to get when they got back to Earth in a few weeks. Lord, he wasn't looking forward to that trip at all. Corizon sighed again and put his knife to something he'd heard one of the humans call 'meatloaf.' He really never had understood the human naming conventions for their food. On his planet, you called food, food—more accurately you referred to its origin as its name—granted few off-worlders ventured into Dameon eating establishments.. He'd not gotten the meatloaf to his lips before he heard a familiar voice behind chide him for his choice of foods. “Now Checkers,” the buttery-smooth alto-voice said brightly, “You know that'll make you throw up on the carpet.” Like a kid caught with something he wasn't supposed to eat, Corizon shoved the meatloaf into his mouth and swallowed it quickly. “Not like anyone would notice if I did it on the bridge carpet...” “Now you're being silly. Care if I join you?” “Do I have a choice?” “Not particularly no.” Commander Janis Eason sat down her own tray directly across from Corizon. It was filled with decidedly more healthy choices—a salad, something Corizon thought smelled vaguely of grilled fish, and a cup of fresh fruit. Eason pulled up a chair and sat down smirking at Corizon. She had long, flowing blond hair that she kept up and out of the way in a neat, regulation-style pony tail. Apparently the commander had been blessed with eternal youth, not a single wrinkle showed on her face. Only the slight hints of crows feat had begun to form at the corners of her deep, blue eyes. On some level, Corizon envied the woman. Despite everything they'd been through since graduation, she seemed untouched. “It's good to see you again, too,” he finally said, feigning annoyance. “Oh you know I love you Checkers.” “So what do I owe the pleasure, Doctor?” “Just checking in with you,” she said as she tipped the small cup of dressing onto the greens that made up her salad. “I'd not had a chance to come say hello since we'd arrived...” “How'd you know I'd be down here?” “Checkers, how long have I known you...” He started to respond but she stopped him. “More precisely, how many times did I help you clean the...” A glancing blow from his yellow eyes stopped her and she smirked. “Oh right, wouldn't want any of your people to over hear.” “One of these days...” “You're going to suck it up and tell them you can't eat human food because it gives you a nasty tummy ache?” “No...” “Oh right, bam-boom, straight to the moon!” “We already went to the moon...if you'll recall.” “Yes and you managed to nearly drown in Lake Berlin...who knew you could fetch!” “I swear you never change...” “Neither do you.” “Point taken.” The meal progressed for a few minutes with both continuing to eat uninterrupted. After finishing her salad, Eason looked to Corizon. “Checkers, I've not seen you wolf down food like this since the Academy. What's up?” “Oh...” he said, stopping eating and whipping his mouth off with his napkin. “You know just Fleet being Fleet.” “Now don't try that with me,” she said, poking him with her fork. “I know you better than that. You wouldn't willingly induce yourself to sickness if you weren't upset.” “They're most likely going to decommission my ship and may not give me another one anytime soon.” “That's not what's upsetting you,” she said firmly. “Hell that's almost a reward.” “Yeah,” he said despondently. He wasn't going to bother confirming what she was saying, because it was true, he'd never been someone who liked commanding a starship. “But they're also not going to honor an agreement I made with the Dominion. Makes me look like a lair.” “And there we have it ladies and gentlemen...” “Don't patronize me...” “I'm not...” After a few long minutes, Eason decided to drop the subject and go back to her meal and catching up with her long-time friend. After she'd finished and Corizon had filled a second plate she patted him on the shoulder as she got up to leave. “It was good seeing you again Checkers,” she said warmly. “But I really need to be getting back to the Hephaestus we're due to head out in a few hours.” “It was good to see you too,” he said turning to face her. “Should I call your doctor and tell him to get some anti-nausea meds ready or your janitor to get the carpet cleaner out?” “Neither,” he said sharply. “I'll be fine on my own.” “In any case, I'll drop off a supply a Purina at your office before I leave...” He only shook his head and smiled as Eason walked off and blended into traffic. It was good to see someone from his era. Especially this far on the frontiers. People like him and Eason were fast becoming far and few in between, even in the Admiralty. As his conversations with that particular group had revealed, a number of them hadn't even been in the service as long as he had, earning their rank in the Dominion War. Checkers. He hadn't heard that name in a long time. Perhaps the coming trip to Earth would be good for him after all. If he survived the meeting with the High IQ Prima Donna's, he'd no doubt get to see a few of the old codgers from his academy class. Nostalgia was beginning to kick in, as was the meatloaf. Oh it was going to be a fun evening.

MISSION BRIEF: The Excalibur is standing by, ready to set sail for the Badlands while engineering and science work on a plan to get us home. The ISS Excalibur is mobile and could be looking for us. The AT is dealing with pointy-ears. Vaos and Kimura have no doubt discovered this. 102107.txt

Mission Brief: The Excalibur has detected the launch of what we can only assume to be the ISS Excalibur. An away team is scanning the wormhole, and 3/4ths of the AT has escaped with Romulan help. 101407.txt