Cptn Corizon

And economics is a psuedo-science based entirely on broad and vague assumptions of human nature, but has it's purpose. I was simplifying the basic reason why cutting the gas tax won't save you money in the long term. And for that matter I am not entirely sure the standard supply and demand curve can even apply to gas prices since we all know that the supply of oil is an artificially created item. (Thank you OPEC.) That said, Fred's correct on the $3.50 a gallon price (from what I've read on the subject.) Actually a really interesting case-study for this topic is the 1980's when Coffee-junta decided to raise rates and everyone went "screw this, it's not worth it" and started drinking coffee. Honestly, the only way gas prices stop being an issue? We find alternative fuel methods. Another (and let the "Supply-side Economists" complain--I know the argument) is for the government to create a cap on gas prices. I know what issues there are with the government setting artificial prices, but some of that is largely BS. [but then I am not exactly what you call a strict capitalist] Sidebar: Problem with private cooperations doing things? They don't act in interest of the people (example: safety); they act in their own interest--which can often run counter to the interests of the people (read: exporting jobs). That's why for years and years we had government controlled monopolies, till the kleptocracy took over about 20 years ago.

ROFL!

Given I can remember when gas cost 99 cents...YES.

SD 0705.19 Excalibur's Security team has secured the communication relay command station, and with the help of the Dominion have put down the last vestiges of resistance, while at Camelot Station all hands are at Red Alert in case of an retaliatory attack.

Kansas decides to put a stop to the Scorps!

Heh, I joined many moons ago when we were still in the ST.com public chatrooms and didn't have our own. Shesh...that was almost 4 years ago. :lol:

Some of the ones on my home network of 7 people (we have more than 7 comps): Sir System Sir Lappy Duke Tabby Hal'Cyon Thunderbox Krista-Krista-Hugz-Tiem Ohdin Sslay-Dak [Mine] Our network name: Residential Commonwealth of Morgantown

A reminder about our Youtube policy :lol: And also, Fred and I both have worked on the Wiki as well as our page at SimEnc. (Though Fred has kept more up on it than I) http://www.simenc.com/index.php?title=Star...imulation_Forum

MISSION BRIEF: The Avalon AT has begun to descend a mysterious stair case; Security AT continues their assault on the base. 051307.txt

Named for a general who once stood “as a Stonewall,” the ship of the same name floated stately in the stars on the outstretches of the Omarion Expanse, the purple-pink waves of spatial flux gently reaching towards the Galaxy-class starship. A single comet passed by idly, her tail streaming behind. On the bridge of the shimmering starship, Captain Sandra Calypsis watched on as the normal routine patrol continued without hitch. “Status report,” Calypsis said as she made herself comfortable in the command seat. She’d just came on duty for the morning, though—as she constantly had to remind her husband when he was aboard and complained when they woke her for the most trivial of problems—a captain never went off-duty. The slender Xindi-Primate setting at the operations console made a last second check before turning to open his mouth. “No changes in status to report, Captain.” “Excellent. Helm, keep us on course. Signal our status to Fleet Command at Camelot.” “Yes, ma’am.” A streak of white-blue energy shot towards the Morningstar, catching her a mid-ship. Instantly, the foreword phaser canons of the floating weapons platform called a ship lit up, hurling a mass of phased energy at the offending Al-Ucard cruiser that challenged her. Explosions rippled across the hull of the Steamrunner-class Ottawa as a pair of Phantom-class Al-Ucard Interceptors flung photons on the isolated ship. “Captain,” the startled voice of the formerly serene Xindi-Primate announced suddenly. Leaning forward in her seat and taken aback by the urgency in the voice of her operations officer, Calypsis lifted a brow Vulcan-esque. “Yes?” “I am picking up a distress single from our fleet engaging the Al-Ucard…” Brilliant purple rays strobed from the fore of imperious black the Al-Ucard flagship Annihilator, striking back at the head of the attacking Federation fleet as she turned for another pass, striking the heavily armed ship with a vicious blow. Nearby, a dogfight between the Vigilant of the Federation and the Hammerfall of the Al-Ucard ensued. Though narrow, an advantage had begun to develop for the Al-Ucard as the Morningstar dealt with more heavy cruisers than they’d expected to be in orbit of the outpost. “Is there anyone else in range?” “The Lincoln and the Atlas, but they’re 25-minutes away…the fleet could be…” “I know.” She pursed her lips. Standing orders from Captain Corizon held that she not break her patrol of the area, but she’d deal with that later. “Orders?” “Red Alert, all hands to battle stations. Helm, lay-in an intercept course.” What was supposed to be a simple raid had turned into an all out battle between the Federation and the Al-Ucard. Aboard the Morningstar, Commander Na’Lok averted his eyes as his wing-ship, Havana exploded under a shattering blow from the phased graviton beams of the Annihilator. “Signal the fleet,” he barked as sparks flew on the smoke-filled bridge, “concentrate fire on the heavy cruisers…and where’s our damned reinforcements?” The command and control center of Starbase: Camelot buzzed with purpose. The diversion attack on the outpost by the Morningstar was decidedly not going according to plan. Commander Corris Sprint pursed his lips as he looked over the incoming reports from the battle. “Any luck raising Captain Corizon?” Corris questioned. “No, sir.” At that moment, flanked by his first officer, Captain Sorehl entered the command deck, carrying what could only be described as a look of concern…even for a Vulcan. “Report.” Sprint quickly relayed the information as quickly as possible and turned command decisions over to the more senior Sorehl. “Continue to attempt to contact Captain Corizon,” Sorehl said calmly. “Order the fleet to alert and bring us Red Alert. If the fleet fails to hold them, we may have a counter-attack on our hands.”

Mission Brief: Security continues it's clandestine mission, while Corizon leads a crew from the Excal on a nice little horseback ride in the Avalonian winter to investigate mysterious signals 050607.txt

Mission Brief: The Excalibur security team (plus one Orion) continues their mission, an attempt to infiltrate a former Dominion communications array currently held by the Scorpiads. They've managed to get inside the facility via a ventilation shaft. Meanwhile back at Camelot, a few scattered reports from the surface base have caught the attention of Captain Corizon, while the continued preparation for an eventual battle continues. 042207.txt

Happy B-Day!

Corizon puts Kansas back in her basket.

From my Wildlife Management professor to his online class of 450 people:

A clock in the corner ticked softly. It was archaic, but it served its purpose. Three hours to go. Three hours until a result, any result would come. The waiting. Waiting that's what killed him. In three hours, he'd know if his plans had worked...or if they'd failed. Someone had noticed his brooding and asked him if he were worried about his crew—the one he'd sent to die. He said of course, but he lied. That wasn't his real concern. He'd sent too many good people to die before to start worrying about the cost of a mission in human terms. The fact was he only wanted the mission to succeed and if some of his crew had to die to accomplish that...so be it. A stray memory entered his head and took root. A dizzying array of thoughts filtered through his mind, distracting him. Maybe that's why he stopped caring about a single human life. Or maybe that's why he was so cold. It was a given that if you really wanted to hide something, if you really didn't want anyone to find something that if they found you'd be in fairly deep trouble, you hid it in plain sight. Corizon's shuttle touched down just outside a four-story building on the outskirts of the District of Columbia. Dressed in his standard uniform he headed towards the entrance. The grounds were well manicured and nothing differentiated the building from any of the various other buildings in the area. The whole area had once been the seat of power for the most powerful single government in Earth's history. A global war and the ensuing chaos that followed left the whole place a wreck. It wasn't until the mid-2100's that offices returned to the once proud city. Now it was just another hub for the bureaucracy that was the Federation of Planets. Putting a hand to his eyes, he shielded them from the bright morning sun that was rising in East towards where the Washington Monument had once proudly stood. Glancing towards the approaching building as the sun fell behind it, he looked up at the latin phrase adorning the gateway to the building. non facias malum ut inde fiat bonum. Corizon had never fully understood the human predilection for using an archaic language symbolically...but never the less he understood fully what it meant...and what a farce it was. The doors slid open and he smiled at the young Ensign at the desk. He remembered those days of blissful ignorance. When he first started working at ATAG, they were purely an analytical agency, determining the usefulness or the importance of raw intelligence gathered from the field by SIA operatives. Determining if the new leader of the Cardassian High Command was more of a threat than the last, if the Breen could be plotting something behind their icy facade. But as time grew on, and the undercurrent of the Federation lead to a more..martial way of thinking, the mission of ATAG grew darker and deeper in secret. Soon he found himself deep in the enemies territory collecting information that only the highest levels of the Admiralty and then sometimes only the Commander of Starfleet would lay eyes upon. That was a long time ago, Corizon thought lucidly to himself. A long time ago. But yet his thoughts then were in line with his thoughts now. The Federation was changing. He'd never resisted then though, why was he having a problem with it now. Was it because he was the one giving the orders? Memories of the past continued to pervade his mind as those questions, and his doubts percolated in the brewing and brooding stream of conscious in his thoughts. “Commander Checkers,” the ensign said as Corizon walked by him. “You have an appointment waiting for you.” “Thank you, Ensign?” The young boy turned a slight shade of blue...blushing for his species. “Strawberry, sir.” The Dameon allowed a small smile to run across his lip, revealing fangs before tucking it away behind the facade that he wore to work everyday. There was a story there, he was sure...just like there was a story behind his own call sign...Checkers...but he didn't have time today, he had an appointment after all. “Good Day, Ensign Strawberry.” The lift doors cut off whatever salutation the Ensign likely sent back and Corizon headed towards the basement. He rubbed at his temples slightly. He hated this building. On the outside it was normal...almost welcoming. On the inside though, it was hard, cold and decidedly antiseptic. Tokoyo at least wasn't so...depressing. The walls were dark and obviously prefabricated, fitting neatly against each other. Smooth to the touch. He ran his hands along the wall as he exited the lift and headed down a lonely corridor to a security door. On the wall a file filled a box. In the old days, you kept as much information as you could in your head or stored it digitally underneath encryption and encryption. And to an extent that was still true. In this facility, however, files for appointments were kept anarchically on paper. At first that had thrown Corizon himself off. Why the hell would you keep things on documents that could easily be stolen? He'd asked the director of the facility—a man who's name he'd later rather have never learned—why. And then it was clear. In today's world of technology, how hard would it be to intercept a padd's information stream? No one kept anything important in physical files anymore, so no one would ever think to look at them. Genius he supposed...or an unnecessary amount of paranoia. With an ease he flicked through the file, looking over the individual he was getting ready to meet for the first time. Romulan. This would be more of a challenge than normal. But why had a Romulan been sent to him today? Mentally he shuffled through the list of current events that could possibly involve the Romulans. But that was likely why he had a Romulan in the office in the first place. Green blooded little bastards always had their hands in all kinds of things. Looking over the file, his eyes finally found the reason for his visit with Erei'Riov Sael tr'Maik—assuming that was his real name—and indeed it certainly was interesting. None of why this was coming out of his past now made sense to the Dameon. None of it. But maybe that was the point? What was stirring inside him waiting to be released. Corizon hated clichés. Especially in the area of interrogation. So many people went with the typical approach—dark rooms, sparse furniture, low lighting. He on other hand preferred...alternative methods to gathering information. The room in which Maik waited wasn't all that different from a normal Starfleet office. The walls were full hue of gray with scattered adornments. Two moderately comfortable chairs sat across of a single glass desk where larger chair sat empty. In the corner a single replicator stood unused. The chains at his ankles prevented him from standing. He had dishonored himself and the Empire by even staying alive. What else could they do to him? A woosh of air accompanied the sound of evenly measured footsteps into the room. Walking intently, Corizon headed towards the desk, file tucked underneath an arm. Laying the file down on the desk, he headed towards the replicator and punched in a command. A few moments later the replicator sprang to life, producing a single glass of water. The master set to work. Taking a drink of water, he sat it down sending a reverberating wave of sound across the room. Carefully opening the file, he sifted through it meaningfully, taking his eyes off it only to look up at random intervals at the Romulan sitting across the table from him and shaking his head before returning to the file disdainfully. This continued for sometime. An hour, maybe two. During which time, Maik had begun to squirm. Why was this...fvadt keeping him here like this? Why wasn't he doing anything? Anything! Not so much as a single question. All he did was look at that file. Look and scowl. And his eyes. The eyes seemed to penetrate deeper each time. “What do you want?” Maik finally said in frustration. Still nothing. Only a simple glance up from the file, a shake of the head and the yellow-rimmed orbs returned to the file. Again Maik probed Corizon, getting the same response. The silence continued for another thirty minutes. Maik was fidgeting in his skin. What was with this Starfleet officer. “For the love of Elements what are you upto???” Corizon's eyes lifted from the file as they'd done before, but this time they stayed locked on target. Still nothing came from his lips, not even a smile. The yellow eyes began to sear against his psyche. They were cold as space but burned with the fire of the stars. “What do you want from me!” “I understand your sister is attending the Imperial Astrophysics academy,” Corizon's voice finally came out. “You must be very proud of her.” The sheer absurdness of the question surprised him and sent him reeling in another direction entirely. How did they know that, and what else did they know? And what did he want with him? That had gone well. The information he gained from the Romulan was invaluable. And it saved lives even as it ended another. Of course there had been complications to the truth of what he'd learned. Complications that had a price to pay. The Romulan in question was helping direct the destabilization of diplomatic relations between two nations that the Federation had needed desperately as the Dominion War began to flare. Know one could know what was really going on, or all hell would have broken loose. Corizon did what he had too. He suppressed the information and purged knowledge of it. The result was nearly fatal for a Koshic N'Dak, but in the in end, the benefit out weighed that very cost, even if it required an evil to be done. That's why this memory was surfacing now. It was reminder to him that in certain situations, the security of the Federation meant more than one person, or several persons lives. If there had to be blood to pay, then he would gladly pay it, even in his own blood.

The past seventy-seven hours has been decidedly—bluring for the Dameon commander who now stood staring into the emptiness of space on the observation lounge the Excalibur. At some point in his life, he’d likely revist the events, rethink his decisions…but that day was certainly not today. Some people would question what he’d done. His orders. His methodology. He didn’t. Not now. He did before, but now he’d made his choices and it was time to live with them. Well some of them anyway. Mostly, he was going to have to live with the fact he likely sent some of his best officers to die on a secret mission deep in enemy territory. But he’d done that a thousand times. Why was this different? Hell, he’d been the one sent in on missions like this before, and even that didn’t bother him. On some level there was a lingering doubt about the situation. About the course they were taking. War, conflict. It was the way of the Federation. Or at least not the Federation he’d signed up for nearly fourty-years ago. Times change, so did the Federation. War has a tendency to leave scars on people, places…things. War had left its scars on the Federation and no situation Corizon had encountered seemed to illustrate that better.

Work on counters to the Scorpiads continues, and Security finishes final prep for their secret mission.

To: Personnel Office Starfleet Command, Earth From: Captain Ah-Windu Corizon U.S.S. Excalibur, NCC-2004-B Re: Maria Kassem, Marius tr'Lorn -------------------------------------------------------------- This communique is to serve as notice that effective Stardate 0703.11, Ensign Maria Kassem has been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant, Junior Grade and Lieutenant, Junior Grade Marius tr'Lorin has been promoted to the rank of Full Lieutenant. This decision comes after extended review of their service and dedication to the U.S.S. Excalibur. It is a pleasure to have such a capable officers aboard and I sincerely hope we will profit from their assistance in the future.

Mission Brief: Security continues to train, Corizon talks with Sorehl, and Day pops the question. 031807.txt

MISSION BRIEFING> Sorehl's team continues to look for ways to exploit the Scorpiads. Corizon hasn't been around as much. 031107.txt

Mission Brief: The Excalibur arrives back at Camelot, as we discuss the countermeasures to the Scorpiad threat. 030407.txt

“I understand you’re facing the same issues at home as we are,” Vice-Admiral Daniel Boston said in as neutral of a voice as he could muster, “but we’re not closer to figuring out what the hell is going on than either of your two governments.” Across the table, the commanding figure of Councilman Konath of the Klingon Empire and the less staggering yet still imposing figure of Daise’EnRiov t’Naev sat looking towards their Federation counterpart. “Perhaps,” t’Naev said finally, “It is time for a bit of honesty between our governments.” She held a hand to stop any protestations by her collogues. “If we’re going to solve this problem, we’re going to have trust each other.” When the Romulans started talking peace, love and happiness—Boston worried. “What are you suggesting?” “I think it would be…mutually advantageous for three of us to form a joint-task force.” Konath raised a brow slightly, “The Romulan does have a point…we all have a…vested interest in the wormhole.” “I am in agreement,” Boston replied. “Perhaps the first step towards that would be an intelligence sharing agreement?” The two aliens recoiled slightly. The Romulan love for secrecy, for never showing their full hand was legendary, and the Klingon paranoia almost equaled the Romulans when it came to matters of intelligence and security. “Fine then,” Boston said dryly, “I’ll make the first step.” Konath and t’Naev glanced at each other warily. “Federation intelligence leads us to believe that someone has constructed some sort of…armed restraining collar around the mouth of the wormhole…but we don’t think it’s the Dominion…or the Hundred.” “Then your intelligence is inline with our own,” t’Naev said quickly. Boston wondered what else her intelligence told her that he didn’t know but decided not to press the point, “And Klingon Intel?” “Has come to the very same conclusion.” “Well then,” Boston said, “That brings us back to square one…” “Where do we go from here?” “Starfleet Command has given this situation top-level priority, I am now in command of the third fleet, and elements from the fifth and sixth…” “So you believe a military solution is the only course of action left?” “Our last reports from Camelot indicated that new, ascendant power had arisen in the Gamma Quadrant and had been challenging the Dominion openly. We believe they are the source of our current problem…” “And the peace-loving Federation believes the only solution left is an armed conflict,” t’Naev said questioningly. When that happened she started to worry. “I have to question this myself,” the stoic Klingon said finally. “That is actually the federation plan? Armed conflict?” Boston sighed deeply, the Klingons and the Romulans were talking of peace…heaven help us all. “We don’t see any other alternative than reinforcing the wormhole on this side.” Konath and t’Naev nodded. “Then you do not plan to send an expeditionary force through the wormhole?” “Not at this time.” “That sounded conditional,” t’Naev said, raising a brow. “If we feel that the situation posses a threat to the security of the Alpha Quadrant, we are willing to do what must be done,” Boston said firmly. “The Federation Council is unwilling to allow the situation to escalate as we did in the build up before the Dominion War.” -- Laok Minor A hulking Dominion warship lit up on the viewscreen of the Al-Ucard mothership Deathstalker. The commanding officer of the ship averted is eyes momentarily before returning them to the screen. “Status report.” A young Al-Ucard looked up from his console, “Bad.” “Elaborate.” “We’re taking heavy fire,” the young hunter said, quickly looking back down. “For every one of their ships we destroy they take down three of ours.” “Unacceptable,” the General said showing his fangs, “Signal the fleet to fall back to waypoint three-nine-zero.” -- Gania System “We have a report from General Claudan, ma’am.” A tall, pale woman looked up from her console unhappily. The Eritan commander stabilized her self as the ship rocked under a barrage of Dominion weaponry before responding. “Yes?” “They’ve fallen back to waypoint three-nine-zero.” “Fallen back?” “Affirmative,” the younger Eritan said holding on as another barrage rocked the heavy mothership. “Perhaps we should consider a similar action, my liege.” A notable hiss escaped the Eritan female. “Unfortunately I must agree with you…we cannot afford to suffer losses like these, signal the fleet.” -- The Gamma Quadrant Exit of the Dominion Wormhole, Scorpiad Command Complex General N’krittt sat unhappily looking at status reports with a group of Al-Ucard and Eritan commanders. “Laok Minor, Gania….Jani`Ba…these losses are mounting…” One of the Eritan’s said politely. “The Dominion has taken up a new offensive with new fervor.” “I can see that,” N’krittt said sharply, his mandibles twitching angrily. “This is unacceptable.” “What would you have us do lord?” “You must inform your commanders that retreat is not a strategic option,” N’krittt’s voice rose. “Defeat is not an option. We must make the Dominon pay with the blood of a thousand Jem’Hadar for every inch of space they reclaim…”

Mission Brief: Excalibur and Reliant are headed home on their own power, their only about half an hour from the Camelot system. 022507.txt

Timing Note: This log occurs just before last week's sim A coffee cup clinked in the background, Semil waited patiently for his ‘meeting’ to begin. He’d learned over four lifetimes that minor delays on the part of another party were usually not worthy of annoyance, especially dealing with someone as…cheery…as Captain Corizon. Finally, the smiling face of the Dameon captain appeared on the screen, looking slightly more ragged than usual. “Captain,” Semil’s voice was placid as his facial expressions, “It’s good to see you are recovering from your injuries.” “Thanks,” Corizon’s voice had a raw quality to it. “It’s only moderately annoying to see you’ve been resurrected again.” Semil smiled in that all too creepy Vorta way, “I’ll take that as a compliment Captain.” “I am sure you do,” Corizon replied. “Now what exactly do you need from me?” Semil tipped his head slightly, a brow cocked. “Do you always jump right into whatever it is your meeting is about Captain? You don’t seem to be much of person for…what’s the human phrase…‘small talk.’” A low growl escaped Corizon before he could stifle his annoyance. “With due respect, I didn’t call you to exchange pleasantries. I called you because I was under the impression you had information for me that would prove useful in solving our current dilemma.” Semil sighed. Corizon was unlike the other Starfleet commander’s he’d encountered over his dealings with them. Rough around the edges, he was prone to wearing his emotions on his sleeve, and was rarely what Semil would consider…diplomatic. Not that Sorehl was the most placating person in the galaxy, but at least the Vulcan cared if he offended the other party or not. For his part, the Dameon could barely stand Semil, and his current situation meant he had little tolerance for the haughtiness of the Vorta. “As you wish, Captain.” Corizon nodded for Semil to continue. “I understand that you’ve been attempting to contact the Federation using the MIDAS array, is that an accurate statement Captain?” How did he know about that? Damned shape shifters. Corizon discarded his immediate reaction and chose a more neutral response. “That would be accurate.” “And how is that progressing?” Like he didn’t already know. “We’ve been unable to link-up with MIDAS.” “A pity,” Semil said bordering on ruefulness. “I’d thought you’re people had made advances in subspace communication.” Corizon didn’t hide his annoyance. “We have, but…” “But?” Semil said with the typical faux concern of the Vorta. “MIDAS was intended for communication with the Delta Quadrant, it’s not pointed in the general direction of the Gamma Quadrant.” “Ah,” Semil said with a slight smile. “I believe I may have a solution to your problems.” Corizon lifted an ear. “Oh?” “Are you familiar with the Utura system?” Corizon mentally went over the system names he knew which started with a ‘U’ coming up empty on Utura. “Not that I recall, should I be?” “As matter of fact…no you shouldn’t be.” Corizon batted his eyes a few times biting back on a snide remark. “Continue.” “Utura is a system on the outermost frontiers of Cardassian space…completely uninhabited and devoid of anything of value…” “Except?” Corizon was now more than a little interested in where the spineless little Vorta was going with this. “Except a covert Dominion communication facility left behind after we pulled back from the Quadrant.” “Wasn’t it dismantled a long with everything else…per treaty stipulations?” “No.” “I am not even going to touch the response ‘why not,’ other than to ask if the Cardassians knew anything about it?” “No they didn’t.” “And why hasn’t anyone told us about this before?” Corizon’s voice had raised a decibel or two, and his ears were standing at attention. The Dominion continues to lose points. “Well I am sure the Dominion didn’t want to tell you about it because of the obvious diplomatic implications,” Semil said dubiously, “I on the other hand have just now had the opportunity to tell you.” Sigh. “So, which one of you spineless bastards do I have to talk to get access to the array?” “It’s…ironic that you should phrase that question that way.” “I am not really in the mood for games Semil.” “Right,” Semil said with a slight smile. “At current, the only facility capable of contacting the Utura array is under the control of the Scopriads.” Corizon put his fingers to the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “I should’ve known.” “It’s in a relatively unimportant system…they have a minor contingent of Eritan forces in the system.” “Then why don’t you simply take it back?” “The Hundred can not waste our resources on an venture that would not be tactically valuable to our cause.” “I see,” Corizon didn’t hide his annoyance. “So you want us to do your dirty work for you?” “Well you see, the Eritans and the Scorpiads do have a moderately sized force in the surrounding systems, so a direct assault would be ill-advised.” “What are you suggesting?” “A small team of your men, along with a small of Hundred troops could be inserted into the system and capture the facility. Once they have dispatched the occupation forces, we could send in the cavalry as you people say.” Corizon stroked at his chin thoughtfully. “It has potential. Give me as much information about the area as possible and I’ll start drawing up a plan of action.” Semil nodded in agreement. “I’m sending you some preliminary data now Captain, I’ll have the rest of it for you by the time you arrive at Camelot.” “Well if you’ll excuse me,” Corizon said, “I have a lot of work to be doing.” “Of course Captain…” “And Semil,” Corizon said begrudgingly, “Thanks.” “Of course Captain,” Semil said pleasantly. “I hope this only goes to reinforce that the Hundred has little interest in being your enemy.” Corizon started to speak but merely waved off the comment. “Good day, Semil.”