Cptn Corizon

::mutters something about Latino's and Other Latino's:: Is it because the don't speak Spanish John? ::ducks:: I am rooting for the Fatherland, though if the Argentine's knock them out, I'll root for them. :P

Just hope she doesn't get pink eye or something...all that blinking.... :P

The lift descended carrying Captain Ah-Windu Corizon to a deck that didn’t exist. As it did, his thoughts wandered. There were approximately four people in this system—quadrant who knew about his destination and the fact that he’d been summoned there had him concerned. Over the years, as an operative for an organization whose purpose was to detect, evaluate and sometimes dispel tactical threats to the Federation and Starfleet, Corizon had done many things, some of which he wasn’t as proud of, even if they’d saved the lives of millions, sometimes billions of people in the process. None the less, he’d never wavered in his duties to the Federation. As he approached “Deck 90,” the sinking feeling in his stomach began to rise—there was feeling that he…and likely his crew were about to be called upon to defend the Federation, just as he’d done before. -- Corizon glanced towards the young Starfleet officer to his right. This was his homeworld. Once a Federation world, free and peaceful, it now found itself under the boot of the Dominion aggressors. Leaning back against the hard wooden surface of a large tree, the Dameon took a deep breath. "The only way into the facility...is a small shaft, south of the river...correct?" "That's what Intel says," J'kastor replied, bending over to catch his breath. The Commander moved quickly even through unfamiliar terrain. "The old factory used to have other entrances, but I talked my cousin in town --" A quick jerk of his head indicated the way they'd come. "-- and she says they've been closed up." Nodding, "Then that's where we're going," he said finally. "Though we need to be swift...the Jem'Hadar patrols will be around any moment now..." Stifling a groan, the lieutenant nodded. "There's a trail higher up," he offered. "Overgrown but still passable." Nimble on his feet, Corizon moved quickly, though still on two legs. "Lead the way." J'kastor pulled himself upright and strode quickly up the hill, ignoring the ache in his quadriceps. The trail took a bit of work to find; he hadn't been here in about four years, after all. Still, they eventually stumbled onto it, and from there the going was easier. Tentatively, he glanced at the commander. "Sir?" Corizon looked up from his wristband scanner, "Yes?" "What... How..." He struggled for words for a moment, then burst out, "How do you expect to destroy the facility with just the two of us, sir?" "Stealth," Corizon replied coyly. "And some high-tech explosives." Sighing, accepting that he would get no more from the closed-mouthed commander, J'kastor trudged onwards. Coming to a small ventilation shaft, Corizon glanced around before approaching the concrete structure. "Once we're inside," Corizon said as he worked quickly to loose the locking mechanism that held the iron bars shut. "We'll have to go to the third lower level to the power relay network..." "And the Jem'Hadar?" he asked, nervously keeping an eye on the autumn foliage around them. "With any luck," Corizon said as he slipped down the shaft and began descending the ladder. "We'll avoid them entirely." J'kastor's head snapped around; he stared at the commander's retreating form. "Luck?!" he demanded, his voice emerging in a strangled croak. Letting a bit of humor into his voice, "You're people have a few dozen gods don't they? I'd suggest praying to one of them..." Muttering under his breath about the arrogance of certain canine commanders, J'kastor followed Corizon down the ladder, carefully closing the bars behind him. It had taken a bit of maneuvering, skill, and—luck, but the two found themselves just above the power relay network on the second lower level. Leaning against a cylindrical, metallic object Corizon looked at his wristband. "One more floor." "And then what?" The lieutenant kept his voice low, but there was a note of demand in it despite that. Aside from guiding the commander up here, he knew little of what the mission entailed. "We're going to blow this facility back to Cardassia," Corizon said dryly as he pulled the pack from his back and began unzipping it. He stared at the Dameon for a long moment, then said, "I wish you would give actual answers, sir." Fishing through the bag, he produced a silvery box with blinking electronica, and handed it to J'kastor. The lieutenant turned the box around in his hands, barely understanding what he was looking at. In some ways it resembled other devices he had seen, but in others... "Sir?" "Careful," Corizon cautioned. "Anti-Gravitons aren't to be played with lightly." "Anit-gravitons?" he yelped, then caught himself and lowered his voice. "Sir, isn't that dangerous?" "Aren't all explosives?" "But... anti-gravitons can't be contained post-detonation." Corizon glanced over for a moment. "It's a risk we're willing to take.” J'kastor frankly stared at the commander. "But... the town..." "Is an acceptable loss," Corizon remained unemotive. Flat and business like, he pressed a button on his wrist band." "Acceptable!" The lieutenant grabbed Corizon's arm. "What about my people? My cousin's there, and my best friend -- for Janu's sake, he has children!" Flattening his ears, and letting a low growl escape clinched teeth and bared fangs, Corizon looked directly into the eyes of J'kastor. "Do you have any idea how many lived we're going to save?" "Do you have any idea how many people you're going to kill? Innocent people!" "Yes," Corizon said flatly. "I do." "But.... but... How can you just..." J'kastor fumbled for word. "Damnit, how can you wear that uniform and do this?" Shifting slightly, "Your letting your personal feelings affect your judgment. Destroying this facility will bring us one giant step closer to ending the war, and if a few thousand people have to be sacrificed for the good of the entire Quadrant..." "Oh, not that Vulcan crap again." He snorted derisively. "That's what the Federation said about the Cardassian Treaty, and about outlawing the Maquis -- and look where that got us! I thought we'd learned better!" "This isn't a debate in your Academy classes," Corizon's tone grew deadly serious. "We're completing our mission." "You can't be serious." Ears against his head, "And if you try and stop me, I will kill you." J'kastor's jaw dropped and his mind went blank. This was so far outside his expectations of a fellow Starfleet officer that he literally could not think of a response. "Now, this goes one of two ways," Corizon placed the Anti-Graviton device back into the bag. "You can sit and blink, and likely be here when the whole place goes boom, or you can come with me. Make your choice, because I am not usually really patient." Numbly, he nodded, still barely thinking. At the moment, the few thoughts skittering feebly through his mind had mainly to do with changeling infiltrations. Skittering down a ramp, Corizon headed towards the power relay net. The consequences of his next series of actions would chance the course of history for an entire species. The plan had been perfectly laid; infiltrate, blow up, a minimal loss of civilians. But what no one at ATAG had known, or even considered were the toxic materials left over from the facilities long history. When the facility detonated, it rained toxic gas into the air, combined with the Anti-Gravitons, the atmosphere of the Lakth Celsti become permanently toxic. -- Shaking off those thoughts, Corizon exited the lift to find himself in a dark, low lit room with a hand full of terminals and one very surprised, for a Vulcan, Captain Sorehl. “Captain….Corizon,” the Vulcan said, his cool baritone voice quickly covering the momentary lapse. “I did not expect to see you here.” “I am sure you didn’t,” Corizon said as he made his way towards Sorehl. “I didn’t think you were aware of my knowledge of this…facility.” “That would be a correct assessment,” Sorehl replied flatly. “Did Admiral Day inform you?” “No,” Corizon said straightly. “Then how?” “I’ve been aware of this facility since its inception,” Corizon tapped in his clearance code into a consol. “My ATAG clearance gains me access to this facility…we set up the beacon system ourselves.” Lifting an eyebrow, Sorehl motioned towards the panel. “Indeed,” he said. “It seems your beacon network has failed.” His ears moving slightly backwards, “I can see that…Irdan …and New Bajor…” “It could simply be a malfunction,” Sorehl offered. “Perhaps local interference, the systems are close to one another. Perhaps an ion storm?” “Wouldn’t we have detected that by now?” “Likely.” “Do we have any ships in the area,” Corizon queried, though he knew the answer as he looked over the information. “Unfortunately,” Sorehl responded, “We don’t.” The Vulcan offered a PADD to Corizon. “These are the last few transmissions we received. I’ve been unable to establish a link or communications with Deep Space Nine…” -- Corizon looked over the PADD Sorehl handed him, sighing to himself as he read it for the fifth time. The sinking feeling in his stomach since the Battle of Sector 42-GX had finally materialized into something. Placing a hand on his communicator, "Corizon to Michaels." Daniel quickly paused the soft music playing in his quarters on Camelot. "Michaels here." "Report to Deck 90," Corizon said lowly. Sorehl's eyebrows raised quizzically. "Is that...wise Captain?" Corizon nodded, "He's cleared for this," he said flatly. "He's an assistant of mine." The Vulcan nodded and returned to the consol he was working on, as Corizon finally laid the PADD down. Daniel paused for a moment, before returning the comm. "I'll be there briefly." He quickly let his quarters and made his way into a TL. "Computer, deactivate Turbo Lift. Authorization: Michaels, Gamma 3 Epsilon 669." The Computer beeped, as Daniel cleared his throat. "Deck 90." The small quarters of the secret relay station and listening post were dark, lit only be a few monitors and low lights. Corizon stood near the lift entrance at a consol, he turned as the doors opened. Daniel's eyes glanced over the darkly lit room for a second. He had been briefed on it's existence of course, but he had never seen it. "Captains." Sorehl nodded only slightly as he continued to work, Corizon motioned Daniel closer to him. Daniel moved towards him, personally wondering what could be of such importance to bring him down here this soon into his tenure on the Excalibur. Corizon didn't have to tell the Lt. of the sensitive nature of the information he was about to share with him, he motioned to the PADD on the consol. "We've lost contact with the Irdan system...and New Bajor..." His display of shock was well hidden behind a controlled brow raise. "The Scorpiads?" Ears flattening, "We can't be sure..." The Vulcan Captain swiveled slightly, "We should inform Admiral Day..." Nodding, "Lt. Michaels and I will continue working down here," Corizon said. "Make sure he's alone..." Moving with grace and poise, Sorehl tucked a PADD into his uniform jacket and entered the lift. Daniel watched the turbo lift door close before turning back to Corizon. "I assume a ship as already been dispatched?" Letting his ears fall down to either side, "Not yet," Corizon said. "We don't have anyone in position...and most of the fleet isn't in any condition to move..." He frowned as he looked through the fleet list. Corizon was right, there were hardly any ships that hadn't taken damage in some form from the Al-Ucardians. "I'd hate to have to let this information to the Allies...yet." "I don't have any intentions of letting this information out of the box. Not until we know more about what's going on." He merely nodded, his suspicions, and hopes about Corizon being confirmed. At least he wasn't too much of a diplomat to know when discretion was best. "Agreed. However, the question remains on how to gather the proper intel, with the fleet in the condition it is." "Indeed," he said begrudgingly. "Our best bet is on the Klingons..." He slowly looked over his PADD. "If you believe so. You have more experience with them then I. I couldn't make a proper suggestion." "Hopefully," Corizon said, "The beacon network went down..." "I fear..." He paused, looking down at a display. "The masters have thrust their servants up as a distraction." Corizon was smart enough, and realistic enough to agree with the assessment, "But let's pray not..." Daniel let out a near shrug at the statement. "I have no time for Gods. I prefer something more tangible." "What ever you prefer," Corizon said finally, "For now...let's see if we can remotely reactivate the beacons." "Agreed." If Daniel had any sort of reaction to the Captain's last statement it didn't show as he moved towards nearby console.

Just don't leave any claw marks in the leather Kitty... :P

MISSION BRIEF> The Excalibur and the rest of the fleet have returned to Avalon, the crew's all been given a day leave to re-coop. 061806.txt

Sitting alone in his smallish office aboard Camelot Station, the gentle starlight providing the only light, Captain Ah-Windu Corizon looked over the information on his PADD. An expression of Dameon origin filled his head, “what does the rain know?” The rain, the water of the heavens, traveled many miles high above the landmasses, the knowledge of the rain ran deep, for not only did the rain fly above the lands of the planet but they fell to seep through the earth, only to arise again. This never ending cycle brought the rain great knowledge, for it saw and felt everything around the planet, throughout history. To harness the knowledge of the rain could bring you incalculable advantages in knowledge, but yet the rain was unwilling to share her mighty secrets of wisdom. Like the generals of old, who stood planning battles, unsure of enemy locations and plans, he found himself wondering what the rain knew of his enemies’ plans. His thoughts twisted and turned, considering the falling rain in his mind; he almost didn’t hear the knocking at the door. “Come,” he finally said. Entering the room was a tall, like featured Dameon, albeit several years younger than Ah-Windu. “Captain,” the young man’s voice echoed lightly. “You asked to see me?” Corizon nodded and pointed to a chair across the desk, “Please, Lieutenant, be seated.” Sitting promptly, the other Dameon quirked his ears slightly, “Congratulations on your promotion, you must be pleased.” Letting his ears rise slightly, “Yes,” Ah-Windu covered a smile, “But that’s not why I brought you here Sheng-Ji.” Sheng-Ji Marish now lifted his own ears in interest, “Then why did you bring me here?” Corizon shifted a PADD towards the engineer. “Because I am temporarily assigning you to my crew for a special project.” “Blunt as always hgha’Jwa*,” Sheng-Ji said looking at the PADD. Smirking ever so slightly, “Unless you have questions,” Corizon said sternly. “I think we are done here.” Sheng-Ji shook his head, “You seem troubled.” Caught off guard Corizon shifted his weight, twitching his ears slightly. “Is it that obvious?” “You forget, I am your zGhhUhk*.” Sighing heavily, “I am curious…” “Of?” “What the rain knows…” hgha’Jwa -Roughly, Teacher, Mentor zGhhUhk - Roughly, adept, student

The (Belated) Birthday Boy :)

Mission Brief: The Battle is over, and the cleanup begun. 061106.txt

Happy, Belated, Birthday to my Co-Host. :)

I will be unreachable via internet from wednesday to Saturday as I will be on vacation. I will return Sunday, you can email me during the week if you need anything. I'll get to it as soon as I return. :)

MISSION BRIEF: The Federation and the Al-Ucard fleets are standing off, eying each other down the barrells of their guns. 832 Lines of Chat Later. :) [Or Roughly, 200 less than all three Acadamies] 060406.txt

A low, long stream of sound escaped Corizon’s lips as he pressed his back into chair behind the desk in the ready room; the battle fought and won, the clean up begun. The entire sequence seemed blurry to the veteran of many battles. In a moment, the entire course of the conflict had turned upon its side and reversed. The Hundred had appeared, seemingly out of no where, joined the forces of the Allies long enough to send the Al-Ucardian fleets into retreat, then disappeared as suddenly as they’d materialized upon the horizon. The experience had been unsettling, to put it mildly. And though he was very grateful for the victory today, there was a lingering sense of uncertainty to the ordeal. Every time a question was answered, it seemed, another arose. Corizon’s mind was ever involved in thought, and the tactician in him pondered these new questions deeply. Why had the less superior forces been sent to deal with these threats, with out back up of their more superior forces? While the outcome of the battle would have been difficult to predict, he did have to admit, it was not clear cut. Everything he’d seen and heard of the Scorpiads made this seem…unusual. They’d been surgical and methodic in their assaults upon the Dominion laying to ruin entire fleets and solar systems. Why then had they not destroyed the allied fleet while they could? Destruction of the two fleets at Karema and 42-GX would leave the vast majority of the sector virtually unguarded, and in Corizon’s assessment, should Avalon fall, the Dominion would soon follow suite. Something was definitely not right here, but what...Corizon shook his head with a sigh. It escaped him at the moment. He glanced at the PADD Brian had handed to him. It was the casuality list. Corizon placed it aside, what ever plan the Scorpiads had, he hoped the loss of lives today was not in vain. __ As the Excalibur trolled through the debris, it came across the remains of an Al-Ucard Fighter. Corizon stood on the bridge, just behind the tactical consol. The gamma shift had been busy, and he’d relieved the tactical officer a few moments before. A small blinking light informed Corizon there was a faint life-sign aboard the adrift fighter, “Helm…all stop.” Nodding, “Aye sir, all stop.” Thus far this was the first Al-Ucardian survivor they’d found, and Corizon had ever intent of getting something more out of this said affair. “Stand by to tractor the fighter into our hold, beam the survivor directly to sick bay.” Nodding the helm and operations officers did as they were told. Corizon glanced quickly at the sensor scan. “Lt. Gazriel,” he said swiftly. “You have the bridge, continue searching for survivors, I’ll be in medical.” Arriving in medical a few moments after the survivor, Corizon headed quickly for the bio-beds. Like most of the ship, only the grave yard shift was on duty. Corizon noticed the young Doctor Akia working on his new patient and headed that way. As soon as she came into view, his mouth opened wide and his ear fell to either side. “Vic..Victria.” Akia turned from his work, sweat upon his brow and surprise on his face. “You know her Commander?” Blinking several times, astounded by this quirk of fate, “Yes,” Corizon finally said. “She saved my life once.” Turning back, he had little time to chit-chat Akia resumed work. “She’s in pretty bad shape Commander. She’s been with out oxygen for at least 30 minutes or so. Hopefully she doesn’t have any brain damage. We’re working on restoring higher brain functions now…” Taking a step back, Corizon could say nothing. Al-Ucard had seemed so far away until this moment. Like a kaleidoscope that had been shaken into thousands of pieces and fallen back into the same formation by random chance, Corizon stood motionless. Time itself seemed to stop for him, as Akia and the grave yard shift of Excalibur medical rushed to save her life. “Commander…Commander,” Akia’s voice snapped like bear trap. “Yes?” Corizon blinked. “She’s going to recover,” he said, “though her physiology is very unique, we were able to repair most of her injuries. Shall I have security standing by when we revive her after she’d rested?” “No,” Corizon said, his mind and thoughts taking back hold of his reality. “I’ll be here. Just contact me when you’re ready and wait for me to get down here.” “I’ll let Doctor Reno know.” ___ Victria’s sudden resurrection had shaken the Commander, but despite what ever feelings he had for her, there was much work to be done, and he wasn’t going to let this new revelation deter or distract him. Returning to the ready room, wishing to be alone, Corizon finally looked at the report that Brian had given him before leaving the Excalibur. He skipped over the names, there would be time for funerals and letters later. “USS Brittan, destroyed…” his voice softening. “The Madison, the Thatcher, the Pacifica, the Tibet, the Wake Island.” He stopped for a moment. Glancing out the window of the ready room as piece of debris floated by, the feel of the Dominion War creeping up his spine. “The Betelgeuse, the Prussia, the Hardgrave, the Cornwallis, the Catamount, the Big Horn, the Independence, and the Polar…all destroyed.” Thirteen ships lost in all. I could have been worse, he supposed. The number of damaged ships though made his hopes sink; nearly the entire fleet had taken moderate to heavy damage with only a few surviving unscathed. Leaning back in his chair, he placed the PADD down and closed his eyes, letting his ear fall down. Uncertainty pervaded his thoughts.

For Brian Graham Chief of Security Officer's Duty Log Lt. Cmdr. Brian Graham Recording USS Excalibur Stardate 200606.07 Excalibur was still swarming with activity. Though the previous engagement had ended in victory, there was no telling how long there would be a respite from the hostilities. Because of that, the crew of the Excalibur was working diligently to prepare for the next engagement if there would be one. Engineer's, doctor's, security, science, command, all were busy with their respective duties, diagnostics, repairs, and decisions. Brian being among them. Life was all about decisions, because that was what everyone did everyday. What to eat? What to wear? Where to go? Sleep in or report for your shift? Join Starfleet, resign Starfleet? Obey an order, disobey an order? All day long, decisions like these had to be made. Some were a lot harder than others, a lot harder, but they had to be made just as much as the easy ones. And then those decisions would generate more, and if you tried to track all of the possibilities and their outcomes, you'd go nuts because you couldn't hope to, there were an infinite number of combinations, and an infinite number of possibilities would spawn from them. It was sort of weird when one thought of it. Brian reached the door and hit the chime. "Enter," came a curt reply. Brian expected as much as he entered. There was no point in a long, drawn out welcome, especially over an intercom. Brian didn't care for them, saw no use for them, and barely used them. There were much more important things to focus on at the moment, a little thing of the galactic repercussions that could come about with the Scorpiad drama that was unfolding before them, and they had a hand in being players. Brian looked forward at Commander Corizon sitting at his desk, reports everywhere. "Commander," Brian said as he nodded respectfully. "Something I can do for you, Brian?" Corizon asked. "Well, yes. But first, some additions to your pile," Brian replied, handing the PADDs over. "There are reports on Excalibur's tactical systems, how they performed, what could be done to possibly improve them for next time. Damage reports, casualty lists..." "...repair projections, fleet movements, sensor reports, ship evaluations," the Commander took over, as he flipped through them and read the headings. He stopped when he got to the last one. "What's this one?" Brian didn't say anything, allowing the Commander to read it over. Corizon shifted his gaze from the PADD to the Andorian. "I asked you a question." "Commander, it's a transfer request, sir." "And why does it have your name on it?" "Allow me to explain." "Yes, please do." "The ships of our fleet have taken damage, some not as much, some much more. One of the latter was the Magellan, Galaxy-class, I'm sure you know. They were in the Phoenix and Lexington’s battlegroup against one of the motherships. Performed well, but took heavy damage during their strike run, including significant casualties. I've attached their damage and casualty report to my request. Captain Forenald reported in his situation with the rest of the fleet, his primary request was a temporary replacement first officer; his was killed in the attack, along with several other experienced senior officers. I'd like to preemptively request to fill that temporary role, with your's and the Captain's approval, of course." "And what about here?" "With all due respect, Commander, Excalibur, even as we speak, is full of experienced, competent officers. We need every ship ready to for action, who knows how soon the enemy will be back. Magellan is in dire need, and I want to help out." Corizon had been looking over the Magellan’s current status. "This is a very dangerous request. From the looks of that ship, another attack like what we just had, I can't guarantee that ship will even survive in it's current state." "You can't guarantee Excalibur either, or any ship here. You're right, Magellan is not in good shape, which is why it needs more people to get it in better shape. I don't care if it's core is about to breach, I would like to do all I can." "You're not going to change you mind on this, are you?" "No, sir." "And if I order you to stay?" "I will follow your order, either way." "Dismissed." --------------------------------------------------------- Brian stood on the transporter pad. Corizon had hailed the Magellan, and through the wicked static had managed to get his transfer approved. It didn't take much convicing, Forenald would have taken any form of life higher than a cat in the condition they were in. Magellan was alongside Excalibur, the coordinates were verified, and the transporter was standing by. "Energize," Brian said. The transporter beam washed over him, and deconstructed his pattern, and sent it to the other vessel. Brian left Excalibur the same way he had arrived, practically under the radar. Only two people aboard knew he left, Corizon and the Ensign manning the transporter. Everyone was doing their jobs, no point in bothering anyone with his absence, they would find out sooner or later. Brian materialized on the Magellan: smoke, fires, exposed conduits, and Brian guessed this was what awaited him throughout the ship. Wasting no time, Brian made his way to the Bridge to see where to get started.

And Chewwy Winds up for the Pitch.... ::Wild thing playing in the background:: Oooo...just a bit out side...

Approximately Thirteen Minutes before the Excalibur-Led Allied Fleet engaged and defeated the Al-Ucardian fleet, the Joint Romulan-Dominion Task force engaged the second fleet. Just outside the local space of Karema, the Romulan and Dominion Fleets stood at the ready, preparing to repel the oncoming alien fleet. Aboard the Bridge of the RES Storm Falcon, Admiral Khevio tr'Shaelon rapped his fingers off the arm chair of his command seat, the silence before the storm calling to him. He glanced at the Operations officer, "Signal the Dominon Flagship," his voice hiding the angst inside him. "We have taken our flanking position...we will follow your lead." Almost at once a viewscreen blinked on, displaying the face of one of the Kilana clones. Her soft features seemed out of place on the warship bridge, and she smiled the light smile of a diplomat. The Romulan's expression changed little. "Jolan tru." "Our forces are prepared to engage the enemy, Admiral," she said, and glanced off-screen for a moment. "We intend to hold the dreadnaught back until their first defensive screen has been softened, then eliminate them decisively." She smiled again, but this time it had a harder edge to it. "I'm assume your vessels may be able to assist with the softening phase?" A smile appeared on his face, "Our strike cruisers stand at the ready, though you may not see them, our warbirds will be with you." Indeed, only about half the Romulan force lay on either side, with the other half hanging in cloak, ready to pounce. The Romulan glanced off screen for a moment himself, "Our sensors show the enemy fleet closing...we await your move. Storm Falcon, out." Pael'en stood in front of the small viewer of the Eratan mothership, the ridged palms of her hands rubbing together in anticipation. The tall woman's face stood out against the dark blue of the vessel's interior. Turning to the glossy black and gold creature at her side, she inclined her head respectfully. "The ships await your command, Lord." The straw-yellow and black Scorpiad moved his mandibles quickly, eyes looking over the readouts, his thick-yellowish tail swayed slightly. "Begin your assault...concentrate on the Dominion vessels..." Ponderously the Dominion lines shifted, forming a wedge leading the dreadnaught through the Eratan lines. Smaller vessels ducked in and out of the formation, taking up support positions in preparation for the firefight to come. Space seemed to hold its breath. A small nod as she turned to her second. "Give the order for the fighters to move out. Begin targeting the Dominion dreadnought and attack vessels." The main force of heavy Romulan ships took a flanking line on either side of the Dominion fleet, ready to pummel the oncoming ships in a cross fire of heavy torpedo siege. The triangular, small, cruisers moved out, a swarm of smaller fighters following them as they moved towards the dreadnought. The flagship followed behind, albeit at a somewhat slower pace. The Dominion capital ships met the flight before it reached the dreadnought, pushing against the line as though to split it and funnel it to the Romulans on either flank. The Eratan looked over at the stingered one in the specially-designed command seat. "There will be nourishment enough for us all, your eminence willing." She smiled, hoping for a favorable reaction. Khevio leaned back in his chair, "All vessels, open fire...target the warships." The Scopiad clicked and chriped. "Focus on the battle at hand." The Romulan vessels began pouring heavy torpedo fire into the oncoming fleet, the cloaked portion still awaiting activation from their flagship. A handful of fighters came around between the Romulan ships and the Eratan cruisers, firing a rotating volley of torpedoes back at the Romulans. The Dominion vessels at last opened fire. First the fighters, strafing the Eratan cruisers, then the larger ships slectively targetting the most vulnerable among the fleet. The white-green pulses of the Romulan Disruptor cannons streaked towards the intercepting fighters, as the Romulan lines shifted to pack the Eratan cruisers closer together; the fighters winging outwards, breaking off their assault to regroup. Moving towards the front of the battle, a dozen of the larger motherships began targeting the smaller Dominion cruisers. Aboard his flagship, Khevio held fast as the smaller fighters harried the Romulan lines. This wasn't working as well as he'd planned. "Signal the Romulan fleet to begin attacking the mother ships, directly." The Romulan lines began moving towards the motherships, focusing their fire on the large unwieldy vessels, and by passing the smaller ships, leaving them to the Dominon. The Dominion fighters broke off to give chase to the Eratan craft, while the cruisers continued their relentless journey thought the lines towards the flagship. The flagship remained near the rear of the group of immense Eratan vessels, another group of dartlike fighters joining their comrades against the Dominion. Dodging through the throng of titanic ships, the Romulans begin laying heavy fire to the motherships, focusing on three or four of them en masse. The light cyan bursts of energy emerging from the weaponry of the cruisers came into contact with the Dominion fighters, firing almost leisurely. Rocking under the heavy fire of the Eratan motherships, several warbirds exploded into sinking flames. The Romulans pressed on though, unloading their payloads upon the offending vessels. As the energy blasts became thicker, the toll became apparent on all the fleets. One Dominion cruiser lit the battlefield in a spectacular firework of red and orange, silver shrapnel spreading like stars. Aboard the flasgship, Dak'Gha remained confident in his servants ability to win the battle. "Have your mother ships engage the Dominon at point blank range." A score of motherships broke off from the main group, again targeting the Dominion dreadnaught. A selection of gleaming cruisers following nearby guaranteed protection against the smaller Dominion fighters. Khevio whirled in his chair as the bridge rocked violently. "Signal the secondary force to eliminate those cruisers!" Designed for orbital bombardment, used correctly, they could lay waste to entire fleets of vessels, and Khevio had known this. Above the battle, nearly eighty Romulan Command and Strike vessels shimmered out of cloak simultaneously releasing huge volleys of weaponry; the squatting D'Rredrix-classes unleashing their heavy siege. Watching the unfolding chaos, and knowing what losing the Dominion flagship could mean to not only this battle, but the course of the war, Pael'en turned from the newly visible Romulan ships on the viewer to her god and mentor. "Your orders, my lord?" Hissing as his body flattened and his cauda dripped with venom, "Destroy them!" The door had been opened for the Dominion, and Khevio just hoped they were smart enough to use it; his own fleet was taking heavy damage. Unsure of how long they would be able to manage, the Romulans kept fighting. With the opening provided by the Romulan ships, the Dominion at last brough out their heavy hitter. The Super Dreadnought unleashed its weaponry, pounding hard against the Eratan fleet. Not giving up on their efforts, the other motherships moved in on the Dreadnought once more, all focusing their firepower in synchronized bursts. Khevio glanced at the screen, "Find their mothership...all Romulan forces focus your attacks." The Romulans ships coming in fast and furious, the Eratan flagship did not budge. Cruisers and fighters clustered around protectively, a few more of the mothrrships falling back to cover it. Swarming, the Romulan vessels picked up their pace, firing as they went, bent on their target. Behind it all, the Dominion flagship continued firing, great gouts of plasma that sizzled against shield bubbles and tore deep wounds in hulls. Suddenly wishing for the safety of his own Ga'Jak-class Battleship, Dak'Gha watched on in nervous anticpation. "How many motherships remain?" Pael'en turned to her scanners. "Thirty-five." Her voice was low, slightly fearful of Dak'Gha's wrath. Nearly half the fleet had been lost, and the tide was turning. "Fall back," he clicked anxiously. "Reform our lines, we must not allow them to flank us." The remainder of the Eratan fleet withdrawing, Pael'en looked downward. "We have not failed you yet, Lord." Cruisers and fighters regrouping, the lines began to restructure. The Scorpiad clicked nervously, "We can not afford to lose this task force entirely, nor can we secure total victory today. Recall your fighters." Pael'en stood straight, a touch disappointed. "As you command." The remaining ships gathered close to the flagship, a few shots fired off as a final, defiant gesture. Watching in growing pride, unawares of the iniquitous plot hatching, the Romulans took a victory formation at the head of the allied lines. The Dominion ships allowed the Romulans to take point, though Kilana smiled smugly aboard the flagship. Let them think they had won this battle. Dak'Gha pushed himself from his command seat, "Set course for the base at Surma, inform me when we arrive." He would allow the Dominion and their allies to think the battle had been won, a sinking feeling told him that a similar result was coming across the sector to the Al-Ucardian forces; however the true objective of this offensive had yet to been revealed, even to the very servants who carried out the will of the Scorpiads.

::dies laughing at Huff:: That was the only thing I hated about DS9. If I had to Kira complain *one* more time about the Cardassians or someone lavish Sisko with some title.... :)

Happy, Belated, Birthday

To quick? ::blinks:: I've had DSL, Cable and T3 and I've never had that problem. Anyway, after some research: Reaent Main Page

MISSION BRIEF: The Federation-Klingon Task Force is 36 hours away from intercepting the fleet. The continue on, unabated. 052806.txt

MISSION BRIEF: The Excalibur crew has been recalled, a final meeting of the Round Table has been called, as the crew prepares to leave for battle. 052106.txt

The Excalibur sparkled in the night as the fleet dropped from warp to impulse; the long sleek lines of the Sovereign-class dreadnaught pristine and prepared for battle. On either side, the Ardent and the Reliant took flanking positions, ready to defend the flagship of the Federation fleet. Across the battle field, the sleek, swooping black hulls of the Al-Ucardian fleet loomed ready for the clash. The bulk of the fleet lay in dagger shaped cruisers. Turning to intercept the Federation fleet, unawares of the Klingon fleet laying in hiding, the Al-Ucard lines shifted. Though the three-hundred meter long cruisers were the ships-of-the-line, holding back we’re the pride of the Al-Ucardian fleet, three colossal Command Battle Carriers. At nearly 3000 meters each, they were heavily armed and carried an array of weapons, not to mention the hundreds of attack fighters. Aboard the Excalibur, Corizon’s eyes flickered over the screen, observing the approaching Al-Ucardian fleet. If they were to win this battle, those carriers would have to fall. So long as they were afloat, the Al-Ucardian fleet had a chance. But like a game of chess, you couldn’t go straight for the queen; the wall of pawns would have to come first. He only hopped there weren’t any bishops laying in hiding. “Signal the fleet,” Corizon’s voice echoed across the nearly silent bridge. “All vessels take formations stand by for my signal to attack…”

Much improved writting style, Eagle! We always love to see our simmers refining their style! :P

“They were going to look at war, the red animal--war, the blood-swollen god.” ~ Stephen Crane Thirty six hours down, thirty six more to go. Beneath Corizon’s feet, the deck plates of the Excalibur hummed lightly under warp power. In thirty-six hours, he would lead the men and women of the First Gamma Fleet into battle. More importantly he would lead the Excalibur into battle. The Federation fleet trailed minutes behind, the Klingons cloaked, and the Dominion in tow. The battle planning was over, the preparations made. Now all there was to do was wait. Wait for the coming tide. The balance of an entire Quadrant hung in the balance, the future of billions of lives rested on the fate of the coming battle. If they failed, it could lead to the endgame. He rounded the corner of the corridor, nodding to several crew men who were working on a panel as he went. Some of them had barely seen combat, but he knew they were ready. In thirty-six hours, they would be thrust into the heart of battle and ready or not they would be tested by fire. At least for their sake, the battle would not come to them. Nay, they would bring the battle to themselves. In thirty-six hours, they would intercept the Al-Ucard fleet at Sector 42-GX. And like a thousand other battle fields, trumpets would sound; drums would beat; and dead would lay fallen amongst the living. A deep sigh escaped the Dameon. His grand warhorse was ready to carry him into battle and Excalibur, her name. And to victory or to ruin, it would carry him. They rode together for Avalon, the voice calling across the winds of chaos; the last light to fade into the rising dark.

The USS Excalibur Simulation will also be running, however the 9 PM Academy, will not.

::Mutters:: You have Troyians, but no Elasians, bah! :P I, typically, play very little known species that allow me a good deal of manuvering room to character create, however, I don't suggest this with your first character. ;) I have, over the years, played Humans, Vulcans, Romulans, Elasians, Arzaban, Vorta, Klingons, Betazoids, el-Aurian, Bajoran, Risans and Dameons. The latter is solely my invention, originally for Reaent, but I decided to use it when I became XO on Excalibur. Like Moore and Seiben suggested, very few sims even have diplomat roles, Excal and Aegis being the only ones I know of, and requirement for both requires you to be a seasoned advanced simmers. It's my suggestion that your frist character be something you can play well with, not something quirky, because in the beginning, I think its more important to worry about your mechanics and interaction in the sim, than whether this week is the Hutammamanji Sacrafice and Finger Paint ritual for your character. ;) Just my thoughts. :)