Cptn Corizon

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…”

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.

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...”

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

Mission Brief: Incarceration of the Onion, Dox, Spots and Kitty continues. However, their captors have decided they aren't from Kansas. Kimura is attempting to peel the onion, a shady marine has been talking to Kitty and Spots. Corizon has finished 'negotiations' with people from the station, and the crew has been concocting their own ideas.

100707.txt

MISSION BRIEF: The AT's captors are beginning to suspect that their prizes are not from Kansas, meanwhile Corizon speaks. Throw him a bone!

093007.txt

MISSION BRIEF: The Excalibur has found herself in a most unusual place, where a space-dock style space station orbits Bajor. The crew is confused to say the least.

082607.txt

I use the Fox. However for those of you in-need of IE, there's a (very) handy extension called "View in IE Tab" :)

Well there's a number of different wiki-softwares out there for use, and it's mostly dependent on what your needs are, for something like this, we wouldn't need MediaWiki (which is what Wiki itself runs on).

Just from experience, at Excalweb, Tachyon and I have worked on an Excalwiki and I can tell you its a lot of work getting enough of a basis set up to go live with it. And some point, when I have more time to work on it, it may go live with an update of Excaliweb.

The weary commanding officer of the Excalibur collapsed into a heap upon a couch in his quarters. For a few moments he just lied there taking deep breaths and wishing for something large to hit him on the head and knock him out—nothing came. After a while he finally sat up, placing his hands to his face and pushing them forward through his hair until he reached his ears which he scratched at momentarily before bringing his hands back to his face and feeling the growing facial that was a result of poor personal grooming over the last few days.

 

Somehow a clean shave had seemed somewhat insignificant compared to defeating the Scorpiads and now being lost in an alternate universe. Was it just him, or was it always something? For once he wished which ever deity that was amusing itself with his life would simply let him breathe for a few moments before throwing something else at him to fix.

 

What was it he had told Kennin months ago on the Morningstar? “Welcome to Starfleet...” Something like that. Kennin's name brought a rather unpleasant memory to the forefront and he suppressed it as quickly as possible; he preferred not to think about officers lost under his command when things were looking so bright and cheery.

 

He knew the crew's morale had to be shot. Just when they thought they'd finally gotten home...they found themselves even further than when they'd started. He didn't care what Buckaroo said...no matter where they went, they didn't seem to be where they were supposed to be.

 

Pushing himself up off the couch he made his way across the darkened room a cabinet along the floor to sealing curved windows. The Bajoran star had tucked behind the moon they were hiding from and only edges of light shown through as Excalibur sat on the dark side of the moon.

 

“Computer begin playback of music file Corizon Theta 12,” he said softly as he reached for a wine flute and bottle from the cabinet. The computer chirped and the low soft sounds of a musical recording began playing in the background.

 

The bottles cork had already been removed and Corizon removed the stopper which had taken its place and poured a glass.

Enjoy!

Mission Brief: Having affected essential repairs to the ship, the Excalibur crew is inline to enter the wormhole and head to Deep Space Nine where they will hopefully begin refitting the ship, though a rumors have begin circulating that the ship may be decommissioned.

chatlog2007_08_19.txt

Hey there!

 

Alwats good to run into someone from her glorious past, get a hold of me on IM :)

For I have eaten ashes like bread, and mingled my drink with weeping.

-Psalms 102:9

 

The hulking wreckage graveyard of ships from the Battle of the Wormhole floated ghostly silent about the wounded Excalibur-B. The lights had finally stopped flickering as auxiliary power had finally be restored, but the ship still felt like a sarcophagus.

 

Ah-Windu Corizon shifted a piece of wreckage off the ready room desk and sat down in the scorched chair behind the desk with a heavy sigh. They'd won the battle, but at what cost? And how long could they hold the wormhole before the Scorpiads regrouped?

 

His head wrapped around that and many other questions for a few moments before revolting in protest. It wasn't his problem at the moment, and he had more important things to worry about. For the moment, he was commanding officer of the Excalibur, and his role was to get her and her crew to safe port at DS9 as soon as possible.

 

It had now fallen to other, higher-ranking officers to secure the gateway Alpha Quadrant, and in a way he was relieved by that. Now his task was to see to the repairs of the bruised Excalibur.

 

Causality reports were still coming in, and the normally stoic Daemon had a sinking feeling he was not going to have a short list of letters to write to families back home, the bridge alone showed him that much, and a visit down to the triage center in the main shuttle bay had only confirmed his suspicions.

 

That was the hardest part—visiting the dead and dying—trying to give them some sort of comfort in their last hours. War had taken it's toll on the Excalibur, physically and spiritually. The once proud ship had the queasy feel of a morgue at times. So many good people had lost their life fighting aboard her over the last few years, and even more today.

 

A thought tinged with regret and angst entered his head and he suppressed it, but not as quickly as he would have liked. The war had taken its toll, even on him. There was a price to be paid, he reasoned, and everyone under his command knew that they would be asked to pay the piper at some point.

 

As the Excalibur had floated aimlessly in space in the final furious moments of the fight, he'd been ready to cash in his chips and leave the floor—but fate had intervened, and his time would come later.

 

Shuffling through the desk he found what he was looking for and placed it and two glasses on the desk. Uncorking the bottle he poured two glasses of golden-amber liquid and replaced the bottle stop before putting it down with a gentle thud.

 

Taking one of the glasses in hand, he raised it slightly examining it slowly before tapping it against the glass counter top and the second full glass. “To the Fallen, I mix my drink with weeping,” he said downing the glass in a swift gulp.

::Snerk:: I was waiting for a specific type of quote, given today is Caturday...

 

However...I'll give Kitty the nod :)

As the Battle of the Wormhole ragged on and his forces fell back to regroup, Corizon's mind wandered from the present. For a moment, the entire world seemed to slow and turn backwards. He found himself no longer on the bridge of the Excalibur, but instead in a darkened cemetery on Cardassia Prime, walking alone in the still darkness of midnight.

 

The scent of fresh earth filled his nostrils and his golden eyes glittered in the moonlight, as looked on at the new graves dug in the soil. Some of them didn't even have head stones or markers yet, but they were still the remains of loyal soldiers—of both sides.

 

It was hard to believe that just a few weeks before, the men buried side by side in the coffins and holes in the ground were fighting each other to death in brutal combat, but now they rest in peace and tranquility.

 

In a way, he felt they were doing a disrespect to the fallen to bury them on Cardassia instead of proper space burials, or sending the remains home, but he didn't make those sort of choices, he just followed them. Above all though, he was thankful he'd not been buried alongside the fallen in a shallow grave on a world that had caused so much suffering, so much death.

 

As he slowly found himself back in the present, he began to realize how real of a possibility his death could now be, and his mind wandered yet again, this time to a conversation with Captain Halloway just before they went into battle.

 

After everything he and Halloway had been through during the Dominion War, after all the pain and suffering they'd gone through to defeat the Dominion, it was now a very real possibility they would both die fighting for the Dominion. The universe it seemed was filled with irony.

 

He found himself agreeing with Halloway now... “If I die, have them bury me on Cardassia...” he whispered lowly.

The doors slid open with the precision harmonic sound expected out of a Federation Starbase and Rear-Admiral Ah-Windu Corizon entered the room holding two PADDs in his left hand. Sitting around the round, glossy black table was an assortment of brass, and while Corizon was technically a member of that category of officer, he still never felt exactly as if were one of them.

 

In any case, the collection of a Vice-Admiral, a four-star General and a Fleet Admiral sat waiting for him. A crystal carafe of water sat on the table along side empty glasses and a small bowl of exotic fruits. Lifting his eyes and ears, he made visual contact with each of his ‘guests.’

 

Vice-Admiral Haden Baumen sat closest to the door; he and Corizon went back many years and a familiar face was a welcome site. Smiling he moved onto the General. The hard features of the man reminded Corizon of jagged rock, and General Bra’ek Tacauma’s personality went right along with his visual. A simple nod was all that was required for the two men to properly acknowledge the other, and Corizon moved on to the final figure in the triumvirate that sat in the main conference room of Starbase 265—Fleet Admiral Alynna Nechayev, the woman was a living legend and her reputation more than preceded her.

 

“Fleet Admiral,” Corizon addressed her directly, “Welcome to my humble Starbase.”

 

Nechayev smiled slightly, nodding her head. “Thank you Admiral,” she said motioning to a seat. “Come sit, we have much to talk about.”

 

Repressing an urge to remind the Fleet Admiral that it was his station, he nodded and took a seat opposite to them. “I assume we’re here to discuss the Agincourt situation?”

 

“Partially,” Tacauma’s rough voice responded, looking towards Nechayev and Baumen before directing all three eyes towards Corizon.

 

Lifting his right ear Corizon leaned back in his chair. “Well, that will be a welcome change.”

 

Nechayev perked a brow, “How so?”

 

“All I’ve gotten done since we found out she was missing was regurgitate the same facts over and over to what seems half the admiralty and three-fourths of the generals. You’d think we’d lost an entire fleet to the abyss.”

 

“Well we are concerned with the welfare of all of crews,” Baumen interjected, his voice typically soft and silken. “You know that Ah-Windu.”

 

“There weren’t this many calls and meetings when Voyager disappeared,” Corizon reminded him. “It’s not as if this is the first time we’ve lost a ship under mysterious circumstances.”

 

Nechayev smiled. “You never change do you Ah-Windu?”

 

“I try not to make it a habit, no.”

 

Baumen shook his laughing lightly. “Sometimes...”

 

“I know, I know,” Corizon said with a fangy grin. “But in all seriousness, why exactly has all of Starfleet taken up a sudden interest in this?”

 

“Well we believe there is more at play here than meets the eyes,” Tacauma spoke up, sliding a red PADD across the table. “But we can talk more about that later.”

 

“Of course,” Corizon nodded, taking the PADD. Keeping his head up, he skimmed over the information quickly before laying it back down on the table and making eye contact with his guests. “So what do you need me for?”

 

Pursing her lips for a moment, Nechayev uncrossed her arms and looked towards Corizon for a few minutes before continuing. “The Admiralty and the Federation Council wants you to begin assembling a proposal…”

 

“A proposal?” Corizon’s ear’s stood high on his head as he looked at the three higher ranking officers before him, was this so important that they couldn’t have simply sent him the orders via subspace communication?

 

“That correct,” Baumen said. “We want you to submit a proposal to Fleet Command outlining your plan for a response to a possible invasion of the Federation.”

 

Now he was starting to get worried. “An invasion of the Federation?”

 

“Yes,” Nechayev quickly confirmed. “You’re the best person we have for planning for such a contingency…”

 

“Now just a moment…”

 

Tacauma held a hand to Corizon, and shook his head. “I am afraid, Admiral,” he said firmly, “that is all we can tell you.”

 

“But how am I to plan for an invasion of the Federation if I don’t know who or what I am up against?”

 

“Everything we can tell you is in that file,” Nechayev said, pointing a finger to the red PADD.

 

Corizon sighed deeply, whishing he was still a member of ATAG. Although, he did still have a few contacts in that organization…he made a mental note and finally nodded to the three people sitting across from him.

 

“Luckily for you,” he said, “I happen to have been working on such a plan for some time…”

 

Baumen smiled, “Why do you think we asked you?”

 

Snorting, Corizon continued speaking. “It will take me sometime to adapt the plan to the specifics in the file…”

 

“You have one week Admiral.”

 

Frowning again, Corizon hid his displeasure and nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”

 

“In the mean time,” Tacauma said, “I will be dispatching one of my people to aide you in this process, he’s been brought up to date on the specifics and I think you’ll find him most useful in crafting your proposal.”

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

“You said we’d discuss more on the Agincourt situation?”

 

“Right…”

Yes it was!

 

::Still has those scars::

Personally, I'd have to say one of my favorite moments was feeding t'Rexan to the Squids. :)

::Snickers at the Cats, and wiggling his ears::

 

 

Anyway, as a note on unconventional but canon species. I played for a number of games on Arcadia as an Elasian (from Elaan of Troyius) and found it to be rather rewarding as I had pretty much free reign (thank you Moose et al) to develop both the character and species.

 

Also, on Republic I played an Arzaban, which only got mention once on an obscure DS9 episode, and then as well I had the opportunity to develop a race and a character all at once.

 

Someone brought up the Dameon earlier, and I suppose as their creator I should chime in. They were first dreamed up a while back when I was creating a character for Reaent back a few years ago, and began playing as Sheng-ji Marish. When I was developing a character for Excalibur I decided to make that character a Dameon as well because I had enjoyed playing the species.

 

As for the Al-Ucard, another of my creations, Victria originally featured as a Guest Character in a Excalibur plot and eventually became a full crew member, and the species owes a lot to her player.

 

I suppose my general thought it that its fun to play new species or species we don't know a lot about because it gives you a lot of freedom, but having done it several times myself, I would suggest novice players focus more on getting the mechanics of character development down before taking on an entire species.