Cptn Corizon

Fighter Specs

Class: Lancelot

Type: Attack Fighter

Unit Run:

Production Run: 2380-PRESENT

Dimensions:

Length : 12.3 M

Beam : 11.8 M

Height : 5.2 M

Mass: 24 Metric Tons

Crew: 1 Pilot

Armament:

2 x Dual Class II rapid fire phaser pulse cannon

1 x Type IX Phaser Array

2 x Ventral Plasma Bomb Launchers (10 Bombs)

1 x Micro Photon Torpedo Launcher (5 Rounds)

Defense Systems:

Light Shield System, total capacity 30,000 TeraJoules

Light Duranium/Tritanium hull plus 2 cm Ablative Armor.

High level Structural Integrity Field

Propulsion / Power Systems

Impulse and warp power provided by Type J-III M/AM Warp Reactor

Maneuverability provided by a series of six surface mounted retro-thrusters pods [10 retro-thrusters per pod] and a series of four embedded RCS thruster quads

Speeds

(TNG scale)

Warp Cruise 1.69 for 48 hours

Warp Max: 5.5 for 7 hours

Impulse: .9 x c

Atmospheric Cruise (Mach) : 4.26

Atmospheric Max (Mach): 9

Expected Hull Life: 20 Years

Refit Cycle

Minor : 6 Months

Standard : 1.5 Years

Major : 4 years

The Lancelot-class fighter was designed in the wake of the Dominion war. In the years since the end of the war, the Federation realized that the nearly 40-year-old Peregrine design that had formed the bulk of the Starfleet fighters had reached the end of their life cycle.

Starfleet Command commissioned the design of a totally new fighter, the Lancelot-class. Designed to be a light strike fighter that would be more agile than the Peregrines, which had been labeled as “underpowered runabouts,” the Lancelot is a completely new designed based more heavily on a shuttle than a runabout.

After intial studies showed a design that was too large, Starfleet Design introduced a radical new concept for the Lancelot. Unlike almost every other ship, it would not contain both fusion reactors and a M/AM driver. Instead it would use state of the art warp field controls to produce sub-light speeds with revolutionary micro-subspace field generators powered by the M/AM driver. This allowed the Lancelot-class to be smaller, more agile, better balanced and equally deadly.

Another feature is that the Lancelot is able to maneuver freely in true atmospheric flight.

The first of these models rolled out onto Akira-class and Medusa-class vessels early in 2380.

___

Class: Lancelot Advanced

Type: Heavy Fighter

Unit Run:

Production Run: 2383-PRESENT

Dimensions:

Length : 17.35 M

Beam : 12.7 M

Height : 6.5 M

Mass: 45 Metric Tons

Crew: 1 Pilot

Armament:

2 x Dual Class II rapid fire phaser pulse cannon

2 x Type IX Phaser Array

2 x Micro Photon Torpedo Launcher (10 Rounds)

4 x Hard Points

Defense Systems:

Light Shield System, total capacity 70,000 TeraJoules

Light Duranium/Tritanium hull plus 2 cm Ablative Armor.

High level Structural Integrity Field

Propulsion / Power Systems

Impulse power provided by two multi-vectored impulse engines powered by two fusion reactors encased within engine housing.

Warp power provided by a Type K-VII M/A reactor

Maneuverability provided by a series of six surface mounted retro-thrusters pods [10 retro-thrusters per pod] and a series of four embedded RCS thruster quads

Speeds

(TNG scale)

Warp Cruise 6.5 for 72 hours

Warp Max: 8.56 for 14 hours

Impulse: .9 x c

Expected Hull Life: 20 Years

Refit Cycle

Minor : 6 Months

Standard : 1.5 Years

Major : 4 years

After the introduction of the standard Lancelot, it was clear that another supplemental fighter be added to the range. The solution was the Lancelot Advanced.

A larger,longer-range fighter than the standard Lancelot, the Advanced has several key differences from its smaller brother. Larger warp nacelles, which are detachable to allow more maneuverability, true impulse drivers as size was less of an issue and the control software for the micro-subspace field had proved slightly unreliable in the early testing. (The problem has since been resolved)

The Advanced also carries a larger navigation array for its higher warp speeds, upgraded subspace antenna, heavier weaponry, including hard point mounts for mission specific ordinance or sensor pods. Another feature not included on the standard Lancelot is the holographic decoy launchers. The decoys produce a fake warp signature as well as full EM spectrum facsimiles of the fighters. Because of the power needed to do this the decoys usually burn out within 10 second of launch.

However, the additions come at a price. The Advanced version is heavier and less agile in tight maneuvers, it also loses it's full atmospheric flight abilities.

Despite this, many locations have gone solely to the Lancelot Advanced fighter, though carriers like the Akira-class and Medusa-class carry both, with the Advanced typically in smaller numbers.

The first block of Advanced Lancelot-class fighters entered service in 2381.

___

Class: Guinevere

Type: Heavy Fighter/Bomber

Unit Run:

Production Run: 2378-PRESENT

Dimensions:

Length : 24.71 M

Beam : 16.258 M

Height : 6.75 M

Mass: 79 Metric Tons

Crew: 1 Pilot, 1 Mission Operative (Optional Mission Specialist)

Armament:

2 x Dual Class II rapid fire phaser pulse cannon

1 x Type IX Phaser Array

2 x Micro Photon Torpedo Launcher (10 Rounds)

2 x Gravitic Charge Launcher (10 Charges)

2 x Ventral Plasma Bomb Launchers (30 Bombs)

6 x Hard Points

1 x Internal Ordinance bay (40,000 kg total)

Defense Systems:

Light Shield System, total capacity 90,000 TeraJoules

Light Duranium/Tritanium hull plus 5 cm Ablative Armor.

High level Structural Integrity Field

Propulsion / Power Systems

Impulse power provided by two multi-vectored impulse engines powered by two fusion reactors encased within engine housing.

Warp power provided by a Type K-VII M/A reactor

Maneuverability provided by a series of six surface mounted retro-thrusters pods [10 retro-thrusters per pod] and a series of four embedded RCS thruster quads

Speeds

(TNG scale)

Warp Cruise 5.9 for 96 hours

Warp Max: 8.71 for 24 hours

Impulse: .65 x c

Expected Hull Life: 20 Years

Refit Cycle

Minor : 6 Months

Standard : 1.5 Years

Major : 4 years

Originally intended as a replacement for the Danube-class runabout for stations, the Guinevere-class was then modified to a more combat oriented role as the Starfleet opted to leave the venerable Danube-class in service for another 15 years.

The “Gwens,” as their often known by their crews, are based heavily on newer fighter frames of the mid-70's. Armed heavily for a fighter, the Gwens fill a dual role of heavy fighter and bomber, carrying an impressive ordinance. However, the added weapons and bomber bay decreases the Gwen's ability to be maneuverable.

Colonel qa'Kjiik hissed angrily as another round of fire pummeled his warship. Using three eyes he monitored the holographic displays, while his other eyes monitored the alcove below his command dias.

The Scorpiad hissed again as another round buried into the organic hull of the g'Jak-class warship. “Bring us about, target the lead vessel with primary batteries... fire at will.”

Outside, the black-gray vessels that had brought so much terror to the Gamma Quadrant fought feverishly to maintain their hold on the system they orbited. The lead ship, Death Gazer, turned suddenly on axis, an astonishing maneuver for most ships it's size, and opened fire with purple-pink reign of phased gravitons that struck the offending vessel—a black dagger shaped vessel that had once fought along side the Death Gazer. The Al-Ucard ship shuddered under the fire and began breaking, violently, into pieces.

Turning their attention to only one ship proved a fatal mistake for the crew of the Death Gazer, as three Hunter-class heavy cruisers locked their primary weapons onto the Death Gazer nearly paralyzing the ship as its organic hull overloaded from the energy being absorbed. Fractures began appearing over the once gooey-surface as it turned hard as rock and began dying. In a mater of moments, the once proud warship was nothing but dust and explosions.

In the command center of now-lead ship, Flaming Wrath, Colonel Lejkkijh hissed fiercely as his body cavity went flat. The Leri-Scorpiad clicked his slender, yet deadly claws together angrily. “I told them we should never have given the Al-Ucard or the Eratians modern weaponry from our own ships.”

Fuming he turned on the dais, peering down, ominously at the communications officer. “Order the fleet into ka't'ek formation. Form up our wings and fall back to the second pere....”

He didn't get a chance to finish. The heavy guns of the Al-Ucard mothership Killing Strike unloaded a brutal barrage, ending the battle for the Colonel.

With nearly their entire defense force of the outpost destroyed, the remaining Scorpiad vessels broke their attacks and faded into subspace. For the Empire... and for the Rebellion... it was a turning point. In the past months, the Al-Ucard and Eratian forces had occasionally engaged small Scorpiad fleets or minor garrisons, never a full sector defense force. And even more shocking, they'd wiped the floor the Scorpiads all-conquering Gjak Battlestars.

Tonight, fires would burn in celebration. Tonight, was a great victory over tyranny. Tonight, was a night where heads would roll.

I like having the lobby being above the core, so we don't have the huge column in the middle of our open space. The flip side is that the decks above the core are quite a bit smaller.

 

If I'm not being greedy, I'd like to expand the diplomatic section a bit downwards.

 

1. Diplomatic common.

2 - 3. Lobby level and signatory embassies.

4 - 5 Lower levels of signatory embassies, with grand ballroom in the sixth wedge.

6 - 7 "Will build to suit" area for any other powers who would care to come in.

 

I don't know that the signatories really need four decks, but at least the three.

 

Bob / Joy

Would likely depend on the signatory itself. Some of it might just end up being "storage" or void space for say the Klingons.

I try to keep a rough idea in my head as to what date it is in the Excalibur universe. Roughly It's sometime in February 2383 or ~ SD 60104.1, but thats only an edumicated guess. Generally If I plug a stardate in, though, I use the standard YYMM.DD for the date I am doing it on.

The Excalibur hummed along silently in the openness of the space between Earth and Alpha Centauri. Normally the corridor between Earth and her closest neighbor was filled with trading ships, Starfleet clippers and an assortment of pleasure boats and training vessels. Today the load was light and Excalibur mostly had the roughly four-light year area of space to themselves.

Generally the trip between the two took a starship like the Excalibur, a sparkling Sovereign-class barely two years out of dry dock, a few hours at standard cruise. However, with the low traffic and time to spare, Rear Admiral Corizon had ordered Excalibur to a much lower cruising speed of warp 3.

The mood on the Excalibur-D was light and airy; even the Admiral, long known for his temperament, had a bounce in his step and a smile on his face. They'd been essentially been ported at Spacedock for over a month, kept from furlough, and spent the better part of it cleaning deck plating or whatever else they could think of to pass time.

In his Ready Room, Ah-Windu watched as the stars streamed by in an array of white and blue streaks with rainbows behind them. It had been a long month for the Dameon; he'd spent the better part of it in either San Fransisco, Paris and Geneva selling his Project: Kami to the Admiralty, the President and the Federation Council.

Commissioned by the former, Project: Kami was to be Starfleet's response to recent activity that suggested a possible alien invasion could take place. As he was one of the few officers still active who'd been part of Starfleet's responses to the Borg and the Dominion some four decades prior, he was the perfect man, apparently, to prepare Starfleet for another possible invasion of the Alpha Quadrant by a hostile and in some ways technologically superior force.

After conceptualizing the initial proposal, he'd spent weeks tweaking the plan to meet the operational and fiscal demands and restraints placed on him by the brass and the diplomats. The final plan, which had been approved only a day before by the Council, wasn't completely what he wanted, but in the end it was still a very sound plan, one he felt would keep the Federation safe.

So now he was on his way to begin stage one of the implementation. A brief stop-over at Alpha Centauri to rotate out crewmembers, and he'd be on his way to Antares Fleet Yards to begin overseeing Phase I of the project, the bringing out of mothballs nearly three-hundred ships that would sure up the the core fleet and allow a number of ships from the Steamrunner, Sabre and Norway-classes to be transferred off those duties and into a new fleet of scouts that would more accurately give the Federation and Starfleet eyes and ears on the fringes of known space.

Concurrently, Utopia Planetia and the newest fleet yards at Sunatra would step up production of the “capital” classes like the Sovereign, Akira, Galaxy and Prometheus-classes to bolster what was being dubbed the “Starfleet Rapid Response Defense Force.”

He'd just popped open a celebratory bottle of sparkling Romulan ale a colleague had procured for him, something from the N'Dak vineyards he was pretty sure, when alarms started sounding all over the stately Sovereign-class.

“What the blazes,” Corizon growled as he was commed to the bridge over ship-wide.

He stepped out on the bridge to find the mood decidedly sour and frantic. “Report,” he growled as he took his place in the command chair.

Toramon Komarzad, the Trill tactical officer looked up from his console to the Dameon commander with a worried look. “We're receiving a distress signal on ship-to-ship wireless frequencies,” the Trill said quickly.

As his ears stood up into upright positions, Corizon swiveled in his chair. A distress signal? “From where?”

“I am triangulating it now...”

“Transponder matches,” the Xindi-Primate operations officer chimed in. “You're not going to believe this sir...”

“Try me...” Corizon said as he swiveled in his chair.

“It matches the Agincourt.”

“That... that's impossible.”

Shaking his head, Komarzad glanced back to the his console before announcing. “Confirmed, transponder is an exact match for 'Court. The signal's coming from somewhere around Pluto... we're cleaning up the signal now...”

“Let's have it...”

“Text only at this range sir...”

Corizon nodded for the Trill to read it aloud.

“They're warning of a hostile fleet entering the sector...”

Letting it soak in for a moment, Corizon took a deep breath. “Alright folks...” he paused for a moment then continued, his resolve unshaken. “Go to Red Alert, all hands to battle stations. Set course for Earth at maximum warp.”

“Aye,” came a call from about three different officers as they went to work.

“Relay the message onto Alpha Centauri tell them to spread the word,” Corizon's mind was in overdrive and his body on auto-pilot. “And send out the same general message to any ship in range.”

So much for Project: Kami keeping the Federation safe.

The Excalibur dropped out of warp and made a sharp u-turn and jumped again to high warp.

“How long before we can be in range?”

“Thirty-five minutes, sir.”

“Damn.”

Corizon only hoped that'd be enough time.

March 16 -April 20 Chat Logs

031608.txt

032308.txt

033008.txt

040608.txt

041308.txt

042008.txt

To: Personnel Office

Starfleet Command, Earth

From: Captain Ah-Windu Corizon

U.S.S. Excalibur, NCC 2004-C

Re: Promotions

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

This communique is to serve as notice that effective Stardate 0804.21, the following promotion have been approved.

Promotions:

Lieutenant Commander Tandaris Admiran to Commander

Lieutenant, junior grade Victria to Full Lieutenant

Lieutenant, junior grade Kallah Ramson to Full Lieutenant

Lieutenant, junior grade M'reh Khal to Full Lieutenant

Ensign Tia Lyrenna to Lieutenant, junior grade

Ensign Joe Wilson to Lieutenant, junior grade

Commander Laarell Teykier to Second Officer

Winners

Best Joint Log: Kallah Ramson, B'tor Patterson, Victria

GM-Choice: Semil

Best Single Person Log: Atticus Segami

I think its an interesting question, and obviously up to the individual gm -teams.

On Excalibur, I've worked fairly closely with the GM-team of Agincourt in creating some continuity between the games, but that's got something to do with my "all-canon's should mesh" idea, and really like crossing over with other games as much as possible. Though as we discussed in the thread for Aegis, you have to be careful not to suppress future development.. The solution there is just to be flexible.

Personally, I just tell myself we're in slightly different timelines. ;)

Three weeks after Agincourt’s disappearance in the Alpha Quadrant

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 he 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 each other. 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, wishing 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.”

Nechayev nodded and looked back to the others for a brief second. “You’ll be temporarily leaving command of the base to Captain Jhi-Ka’ta of the David…”

“Oh?”

“Yes, you and the Excalibur are being reassigned to the home fleet at Sector 001.”

Frowning slighty, Corizon nodded his understanding. “I assume I’ll be reporting directly to Starfleet Command?”

“That would be correct,” Baumen said.

“Once you and Command come to an agreement on a proposal, you’ll be presenting to the Federation Council for final approval.”

After a few moments, and a conciliatory nod or three later, “You said we’d discuss more on the Agincourt situation?”

“Right…”

While it's nice that sims can share events and such I'd hate to make this prevent someone from taking the Romulan lead on Aegis just cause it doesn't "mesh" with what another sim is doing.

Don't see why it would, as noted in the log, they could simply change their mind--they've been highly erratic ;)

For a few brief moments on the bridge, Corizon had considered locking the entire ship down, flooding every inch of it but his ready room with noxious gas and setting the autopilot for home…then reason kicked in. Even with automation, bringing a ship of that size into port by himself wouldn’t be easy. Not to mention, he’d have to spend the entire time making it look like the crew’d gone nuts—and what kind of vacation would that be?

How could it be that the brief respite from the tensions of the last few days had turned into something even worse than a few dead crewmembers? Instead of the crew unwinding for a few days, refocusing their attentions on the mission at hand and getting ready for a first contact situation, they were now more worried than ever.

There were at least twelve different incidents of doppelgangers, loved ones who weren’t aboard and downright oddities from various crewmembers, including one involving his first officer.

Given their mission profile, and the fact that Semil—the little worm—was fast on their trail, he couldn’t help but wonder if in the various transports back and forth from the surface if he’d slipped a changeling infiltrator aboard.

What didn’t make sense, though, was how often said infiltrator had revealed itself, nor the manner. As a veteran of the Dominion Wars, and as someone who’d spent enough time on Earth in security during the Changeling Scares, the profile didn’t seem to match.

True, these were members of the Hundred, “children” as the Female Shapeshifter had called them once, and perhaps hadn’t got the whole “spying” thing down pat yet… still it was odd that they’d so carelessly reveal themselves. That led Corizon to another startling conclusion, chaos could be the goal. Bring more than one changeling aboard, have one keep Excalibur’s security force busy looking around while the other infiltrated the crew and gained the knowledge they sought.

There were few curses in the galaxy—in any language—that correctly summed up Corizon’s thoughts on the matter. It was trying enough that he was saving the Dominion from self-annihilation, it was even more trying that the same people who said they were trying to earn his trust, and that he should “live and let live,” in regards to prior treatment, were clearly doing the same damned thing all over again. Add to that the feeling he should have seen it coming, and you had one very miserable, annoyed and ready to claw someone Captain Ah-Windu Corizon.

How he’d let them do this… just thinking about it annoyed him. Once bitten… Why had he not seen this coming? As soon as he found out Semil was hot on his trail, he should have had every inch of the ship scoured for a changeling. He’d been distracted, settling a score with a subordinate officer.

The massive headache forming in the back of his skull told him he shouldn’t play the blame game—it only made him more annoyed and it didn’t solve the current problem; which was that someone…or something was loose on his ship. Not only that, but it wasn’t just any someone… it was possibly a changeling who was bent on disrupting his mission; which, even if he didn’t like it, was still his mission.

Thankfully this wasn’t happening on a ship where the commanding officer hadn’t dealt with changelings, so he at least had some idea what to do. First thing was first; make sure the crew wasn’t running around accusing everyone of being changelings—hence the blood tests. That would segue most of the fears, even if he knew it wouldn’t necessarily bring out the glob of jell-o.

Sometimes he wondered why it seemed that every force in the galaxy was determined to keep them from accomplishing, or at the very least make progress towards, the end goal. First it was the apparent blood cult and the aftermath—now it was an unnatural ion storm and a possible changeling crisis. For once, he’d appreciate if the gods would stop having fun at his expense and allow something to go as planned.

If he were human, he could only conclude that he was burning off karma at a vastly accelerated rate.

The last rays of sun began to slip beneath the orange-red oceans of Citrus. Somehow, without someone to snuggle up with on a blanket, the twin disks' warmth seemed empty. Taking a deep breath, Keri Thomas finished putting her beach-gear in a tan bag and slung it over her shoulders.

Walking towards the transport site, she wondered just how she'd managed to find herself unable to enjoy a day on the shores of an exotic alien locale. It occurred to her that Eli Tamoris was the problem.

How she'd managed to fall for the geeky, awkward and socially hopeless Argosian was beyond her—except that description left out his better qualities. His warm personality filled her with a joy that even both suns of Citrus had failed to do. His laughter was a bubbly mix of a giggle and a cough, and it made her laugh just thinking about the sound. And his eyes. Oh his eyes. They were the most... unusual things she'd ever seen, like two opalescent gem stones surrounded by jade ovals, they carried such depth to them that she found herself lost at times.

It was the seemingly unattainable prize though; that was what she'd never experienced before. Growing up, in prep school, she'd had any of the guys she sat her eyes on. At Pepperdine, in college, she'd been homecoming queen, and the object of desire for all the boys. On her first tour of duty aboard the Maryland she’d practically had to fight off the advances of the junior officers.

Now though, she wanted something more than just a hurried night. She wanted someone she could just be happy being around, even when they weren't intimate. She wanted someone who was comfortable just letting the silence of a room do the talking. Eli was that man, she was sure...but why didn't he see it too?

Making her way to the beam-back coordinates she sighed again to herself. Another night alone in her quarters—which was even more sickening since her bunk mates were either camping, spending the night on a beach somewhere, or otherwise engaged in shore leave activities.

She half-heartedly tapped her communicator and signaled for transport. One last look at the twin-suns reaching their final grasping rays from beneath the horizon caused a sigh as the tale-tale tingle of a transporter beam enveloped her.

Deposited on the cool surface on the transporter, she felt a chill in the air. She must have gotten more sun than she thought, because goose flesh started to form.

“Welcome back,” the chipper voice of the transporter officer broke her out of her momentary lapse in presence.

“Thanks,” she said with a half-smile, and headed off for her quarters.

After a few delays in getting a lift, then waiting as other officers got on and off, the turbolift finally deposited her on Deck 2-B in the catamaran section. Tapping her code in, the doors swished open. She'd expected darkness, but candle light emanated from the far end—apparently one of her bunkmates had left some burning, which wasn't all that strange. She dropped her bag on the small table in the commons area to unpack later and headed down over to her bed for a much needed nap.

That was when her eyes saw him. Her heart raced. Each breath seemed to take forever. Thump. Thump. Was this really happening? This wasn’t just a sun-induced hallucination, was it? Gods let it be true.

“What kept you so long,” Eli’s voice was rich, textured like silk. His eyes glittered in the candle light and she found herself simply starring, heart racing.

Despite herself, she mumbled something incoherent. She gave up and ran towards his naked embrace, pressing her body against his warm skin. He embraced her with a deep, longing kiss and pulled her into him.

She found herself in a world of pleasure. She’d wanted this for so long, and now it was coming true. Like a treasure hunter who’d spent years searching for lost gold and finally found it, she embraced the joy that was coming to her.

Time seem to pass without end. Some hours later, they lay together in the twisted mass of sheets and her clothing. Her head lay upon his chest and she sighed lightly, wondering what had come over him.

“Well, darling,” Eli said finally. “I should go get a shower and get dressed… we have a dinner date in a few hours…”

“Dinner,” she looked up at him, a mix of surprise and excitement. “Oh… Eli…”

Grinning he kissed her and moved towards his clothing that lie on the floor a few feet away. “Meet me at the observation lounge on Deck 5… don’t be late!”

“I won’t!”

The door closed and she found herself alone again, wondering if she’d been dreaming. The mass of sheets, and her own body, told her she hadn’t. Dinner! She couldn’t believe how romantic he’d been…it was as if he’d been hiding this side of him forever.

Moving to the small vanity in the corner, she wrapped herself in a blanket and began brushing her hair. It’d been so long since she’d had a formal date… what would she wear?

Then the bell rang. Maybe he forgot something?

“Come,” she said, not looking away from the mirror.

The door slid open. “Uhh.. I didn’t mean too…”

She turned. It was Eli, but in his uniform. Hadn’t he just been wearing civilian clothing? “Did you forget something?”

He looked perplexed. “What are you talking about…I’ve never even been to your quarters.”

She blinked. “You were just here… we… we… have a dinner date…”

This was clearly the first he had heard of it. “Dinner?” he said. “I was coming to see if you wanted to get some coffee or something and…”

She struggled with the notion. Suddenly more conflicted than ever. “Eli… I…. I…”

The dog has become nauseated over "Kitty" love.

"Odile," Corizon looked at his Yeoman, "aren't you going on Shoreleave?"

"No," she said with a heavy sigh, as if she'd been asked this question several times before, and she likely had. "I don't like leaving the ship to go frolic in the wilderness of some uncharted planet. Gods only know what's down there..."

Corizon suppressed a smirk. “There's nothing down there that's going to hurt you.”

“Perhaps,” the Xenexian said thoughtfully, placing another stack of PADDs on the Captain's desk. “Then why aren't you down there, Captain?”

“I might make a trip down after I get this paper work done,” he said, motioning to the mound that had piled on his desk. With everything that had been going on lately, he'd not had time to do anything on the clerical side, and in the aftermath of the Security Sweep Crisis of 2383, he'd had even more paperwork to sign off on.

Odile nodded. “Going for a midnight stroll?”

He lifted his eyebrows and cocked an ear back. “A midnight stroll?”

“Well,” Odile said, slightly nervous and scuffing her foot against the carpet. “The vampire can't walk in the day light can she? And you two are...you know...”

Guffawing, Corizon starred blankly at the Yeoman, unsure of what exactly a proper response to that question would be. “I am not sure what you mean, Petty Officer.”

Looking innocent, she blinked. “You mean you and her...aren't...,” the words forming in her mouth seemed so heinous, scary and altogether objectionable that it was taking quite the effort to vocalize them. “J'gztch't” she said in Xenexian, flustered she added. “You know...bestialize.”

Corizon looked at her for a moment, processing what the Xenexian had just said, once he had, he found himself laughing uncontrollably.

Half-freighted by the sight before her, confused as to his reaction, she blinked. “Y..you're not?”

Between laughter, Corizon managed “No...of...course not...oh that's rich... bestialize!”

Relieved Odile nodded. “Oh..well...that's good to know...I didn't...well I didn't mean to imply anything....just...” She had a feeling that she was digging a hole.

"The... everyone on the ship... the gossip..." she mumbled, flushing as darkly as Corizon had ever seen her.

“Don't worry,” he said, finally able to control himself. “I am sure you're not the only one on the ship who thinks there's something between the Lieutenant and myself.”

"Oh, I'm not," she mumbled, backing away slightly.

Silently, Odile made a note to smack her bunkmate, though she was thankful she didn't have to start wearing garlic when on duty with the Captain, that much was worth the awkwardness of the last few minutes.

“Well..uhm...If you'll excuse me Captain...I have uhm...some duties to attend to before I uhmm,” she trailed off. Murder wasn't something you told your Captain you were about to commit.

Still laughing at the situation, Corizon nodded. “Of course, Yeoman... you're dismissed.”

Note: This log takes place several hours after the Funeral for the Pilots, and near the second 'day' of SL

“Eli,” the soft, harmonious voice of his lab assistant, Keri Thomas called. “We're on leave, yet you're still here... looking at the autopsy reports from the dead pilots.”

Eli Tamoris, Chief Medical Examiner aboard the USS Excalibur, nodded with a heavy sigh. “Yeah, I am.”

Wrapping a gentle arm around him she squeezed lightly. “Those scans will still be here in a few days. You should go planetside, get some sun, enjoy the fresh air. God only knows the next time the Captain will feel like stretching the crew's legs.”

“I just can't,” he said finally. “I just can't get over how... how precise this was.”

Sighing, Keri released from her superior officer's body and headed across the room to the replicator.

“I am starting to find evidence of what Doctor Patterson and Lieutenant Ramson suggested... that somehow they used advanced transporter technology to remove the blood... but still it's just hard to fathom transporter technology that advanced...”

“Victria told me,” Keri said, activating the replicator, “that even the Scorpiads don't have that kind of technology.”

“I asked Ambassador Jerella to check with the Vorta Lexin to see if he could find any record of that kind of technology in Dominion records,” Eli said, “but I am not holding my breath.”

Removing the silver cup that had materialized in the replicator, Keri started back towards Eli.she'd hoped he'd join her for some leave... and maybe more, but sadly the handsome young Argosian male was always to stuck in his work to see the opportunity that was right in front of him. “Here,” she said putting the cup down directly in his vision. “It will help you relax a little bit... you're always so tense.”

Smiling he took the cup and put it to his lips. “Sunberry tea,” he said with a smile. “My mother always gave it to me when I was doing homework...”

“I know,” she said with a half-hearted smile. Why couldn't he just take her in his arms? Oh, if only he had a little more initiative.

“Well,” he said placing the cup at his side and turning his attention back to his reports. “You'd better get going, I don't want you to waste your leave sitting around here watching me sift through records. Like you said you never know when the Captain will give us leave like this again.”

She smiled slightly and nodded. “Well if you change your mind, I am headed down to a beach on the coast of the southern continent, I think Doctor Ja'Kal and a few of her friends from Science are going down there too...”

“Okay,” he said absently. “Have a good time.”

Sweat trickled down his face, mixing in amalgam with dust and caked on blood, causing both to turn to a red-muddy paste that drenched his once pristine mustache. His heart pounded in his chest. Thump. Thump. His breath was short, and he sucked in a deep gasp of hot, windy air. He held back a cough.

The dust kicked up again and swirled the leaves of the bush he was hiding underneath around. He glanced to his watch. Just a few more minutes.

He heard the pistons of a clunky transport in the distance. Not long now.

Running his hands along the well worn wooden stock of the Model 76-K Disruptor that served as his only companion on this mission, he made sure the magazine was in place and clicked off the safety. Checking once more through the scope, the doorway to the building was in clear view—now if the wind would die down a little.

The voices from the building told him it was time. The door began to swing open and he positioned himself for the shot. He felt his heart jump into his throat, and it pounded like a sledge hammer against a concrete wall with every beat that passed between the door opening and his target finally emerging.

Sweat poured from his body and soaked his clothing. His hands shook slightly as the man he'd been sent to kill finally emerged from the building. He closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger.

I haven't thought about that whole affair in years. My lungs still burn every time I think of that godforsaken dust-ball. That was likely the worst mission they ever sent me on... I don't know though, this was has been full of more headaches—and we're only a month into it.

I've ordered the Excalibur on course to an M-class planet... Citrus something.... apparently our science team named it after one of the lab pets... an arachnid of some sort. After dealing with Commander Segami, I am starting to think that laying on my belly in a dustbowl hunting rouge agents would be a more appealing mission than hunting lost Founders.

The whole mission has been nothing but a disaster... kind of like that mission. So far we've been out here a month and we've been shot at, had our crew sacrificed to some blood cult...oh and the Hundred and Semil are following us. I can only imagine how much worse it's going to get.

When I was sent to that godforsaken place... I had to fight off three or four patrols, a bout of something called Renir's Flu, hike three days through a barren desert just to find the encampment then make my escape through the bitter cold night with a dozen Cardassian agents hunting me. I got stung by some sort of...thing...in the night. I couldn't feel my leg for a week...

At the very least though, I knew what had to be done to accomplish my mission. And the success of that mission was dependent on me, and me alone. This mission? It's literally finding a needle in a haystack, and I don't even know where to start. To top that all off, my crew seems to be about three centimeters from space madness.

I am hoping shore leave will let us re-focus our attentions. I know they've been distracted, and they all want a piece of these cultists, but frankly I don't think we can focus on that right now. Hopefully the Satarimi can provide us with some answers, but I really don't have any intentions of going off on some goose chase to satisfy some sense of revenge.

Speaking things I've been avoiding... Lexin... the Vorta the Council sent to help us. I can't hardly stomach the fact we're helping his government. It makes me want to hurl up my lunch every time I consider that just ten years ago he was likely busy pressing war against the Federation trying to eradicate us from the galaxy, and now that they need help... the benevolent Federation is helping them... at my request.

Of course, irony has a way of finding me. On that dustball... I was hunting one of my own agents. That's why they sent me... something about only Nixon going to China... Regardless, I will do my duty to the Federation, even if it means some serious annoyances and headaches along the way. My personal discomfort is secondary to the continued survival of the Federation.

It had been a long morning, and a longer afternoon. Doing his best to avoid contact with any person on the ship, Corizon made his way towards his quarters, content to blow off anyone who approached him -- not like they expect the Captain to be sociable.

At last the home stretch... deck two. His quarters were almost in reach, and then he could unwind with a bottle of merlot or Saurian Brandy... or hell anything else in his liquor cabinet. That was when he noticed the door beeping that someone had used a security override. Son of a ... those little twerps were searching his quarters.

Mark stood at the door making a final check just to make sure nothing fell out. Four swords and three knives after entering Captain Corizon's quarters, he could feel the weight. The knives were all contained in a case, but the unwieldy swords proved more troublesome. Two of them he had managed to sheath and tie on somewhere to him, but the other two he was forced to carry.

He couldn't help but think of how he ridiculous he looked, but it was either this, or have to make a second trip back. Ridiculous was the right way to go. With a sigh of determination, he stepped forward, triggering the door's auto-open sensors.

Oh gods, the door was opening. Oh gods, the idiot was dumb enough to take something. For a moment, Corizon simply looked at the security officer... Michael something -- or was it Mark? Didn't matter... he was holding at least three, maybe four, of Corizon's swords.

Mark froze. Twenty-seven curses ran through his mind. Of all the outcomes in all the universes... He swallowed hard and steeled himself. "Captain."

Corizon looked directly into the little twerp's eyes. His golden orbs locked in on the human's beady little eyes that seemed to have grown a few sizes in a matter of moments. “Ens... Lieutenant... just what the hell are you doing?”

"As per Starfleet regulations pertaining to contraband weapons, I am seizing and impounding these weapons in Main Security." Mark replied plainly. He'd only been on the ship for a few weeks, but he'd seen and heard of Corizon's reputation for being, well, a hardass. He didn't let that fact faze him in his appearance or speech, however.

"You do realize whose quarters you're searching," Corizon said imperiously, his eyes remaining locked onto the security officer. If they'd been phasers, the human would have been toast.

Mark stared him down. Captain or not, regulations were there for a reason. Four freaking swords was not a Captain's privilege. "I do, Sir."

"Then you'll promptly do a nice, neat about face and put those back where you found them... then you'll get out of my sight as quickly as your two little legs can carry you, correct?"

"No Sir I will not. Starfleet regulations apply to all officers. I have searched the quarters of the entire senior staff and removed all illegal weapons. Yours are no exception."

Corizon tilted his head for a moment, his ears almost fluttering back and forth. He wasn't sure whether to be amused or to be annoyed. "First," he said, sobering. "Captain's quarters are off-limits to you and your searches -- perks of being the Captain. Second, it's my ship and I will have in my quarters what I wish. Third, don't quote regulations to me... fourth.... I don't even need a fourth. Now turn around and put my things back where they belong."

Mark glanced at the swords for a moment, judging their weight of worth to his continued career in Starfleet. He looked back to Corizon with cold eyes. "Captain, you should know that I don't intimidate. You can call Segami the moment I leave, use every Captain's privilege and trick in the book to get these swords back. But I am leaving here with them."

"You're putting them back, and that's an order. My authority is law on this ship, and if you fail to comply... you're going to be cleaning the waste disposal units for the rest of our voyage."

If that's what it takes. "I do not have to comply with an order that defies any treaties or regulations." He swallowed again. "Therefore I must refuse to obey your order. Please step aside."

"Oh for the love of the gods. Ell-tee... I'm an active senior operative for the Advanced Tactical Assessment Group, and that gives me clearance to have any ordnance I deem appropriate on hand. Regulation forty-five dash six, subsection six, special clause four. And if you make me look it up, so help me you're going straight to the brig."

It was now Mark who tilted his head slightly. He pondered for a moment before putting the two swords in his hand in front of Corizon. "Apologies, Sir."

"Now, get your rear-end in there and put them away where you found them, exactly as you found them, and get out of my sight before I really do put you on waste reclamation duty."

He moved to the side, granting Corizon access to his keypad entry. Using the security override just didn't seem proper.

Corizon tapped the code in quickly. His mild amusement with the absurdity of the situation had quickly evaporated, leaving only annoyance.

Mark let him enter before following, quickly replacing the swords and knives in perfect order where they previously sat. He glanced at the other weapons that had almost warranted a removal, as well as the sword that sat in the shrine, the one that was worth all the other ones he took in regs broken.

Somberly, Corizon watched as the security moron finally did what seemed like a pretty simple task. Then... he smiled... widely, his fangs catching the low light of the room and glinting slightly. "Mister... what was it... never mind... not important... I'll look up the record later... I am officially putting you on report with your department head..."

Mark looked up as he last item was replaced, cursing all things that this was how it turned out If he'd only finished five minutes sooner... "I understand, Sir."

"I don't think you do," Corizon said slyly. Oh gods, was he about to make his day. "I noticed that your boots are not up to regulation polish, and I saw a loose thread in the hem of your duty uniform. Both constitute separate violations of the Starfleet uniform code, sections five and four respectively. I believe the punishment for which is P.T. time during off-hours. Yes... I'll see to it that Sergeant Major Kioa is expecting you for the next few days."

He paused for a second, if only to make sure Corizon was serious. "Aye, Sir, that is correct punishment." He glanced down at his boots, and then his eyes rolled over to the loose thread. He couldn't help but let out a small chuckle.

"And one little piece of advice, Mister Garrison... one of the quickest ways to find yourself in a world of hurt is to get into a pissing contest with the commanding officer. Face it son, I am older and have more tools at my disposal to make your life miserable. I hope this is the last I have to deal with this matter."

He nodded and turned towards the door. "It is, Sir. If I might suggest contacting Major Kioa now, this was the last thing to do on my shift. Apologies for the inconvenience."

****PLEASE READ****

The deadline to enter the competition has been extended until 5 PM Monday, March 31.

As he finished filing the reprimands that would pock-mark the otherwise sterling careers of the three officers he’d labeled as the necromancers, Corizon considered for the first time his actions.

The fifty-four year-old Dameon had served in Starfleet now for over twenty-six years—almost half his life. His dress uniform was decorated with some of the highest honors to be awarded to a soldier: the Christopher Pike Medal of Valor, Karagite Order of Heroism, the Cochrane Medal of Excellence…the list went on. Yet it had taken him over twenty years to get his own command.

The simple reason it had taken so long was that he was a maverick of sorts, a rogue. When a job needed done and you needed someone who’d not let rules and regulations get in the way of his mission, you called on him.

ATAG used him this way, and while they respected him and valued him for the job he did, his style didn’t exactly meet the criterion for someone they wanted representing the Federation as a starship captain.

It wasn’t that he didn’t respect the rules. In fact he valued the order the Federation brought to the quadrant above all else—it was just that in his line of work, there were times that the rules would prevent him from accomplishing his goal and the safety of the Federation was more important than some rule or regulation.

Some information comes at too high a price.

His words echoed in his head. They sounded hollow. How many times had he paid prices greater than the ones they had to gain information, or to save his beloved Federation. He’d killed people. He’d violated the Prime Directive more times than he could count. Hell he was willing to use subspace weapons to god-only-knows what end to destroy the wormhole. All because the Federation was in danger.

The end justified the means.

These thoughts had caused him to pause. Was he justified in reprimanding the trio? Wouldn’t he have done the same thing? Finally he came to a conclusion. Yes, on both counts.

Part of being a rogue was dealing with the consequences of your actions. That’s why the Federation hadn’t fallen apart...yet. Some people felt that if you gave in to your darkest desires, if you weren’t careful whilst fighting monsters, you’d become one yourself. That much, he knew to be true, but why the Federation had yet to become the monsters it so proudly defeated, that it fought against, was because they didn’t reward monsters, like Corizon.

So while he appreciated the information that the necromancing trio had obtained, letting them go unpunished would only serve to further damage the whole. They’d done a great service to the dead, but they’d also broken rules to do it. They had gained, but now they’d pay the price.

Corizon was furious. No furious wasn’t the word. There weren’t words.

He’d temporarily delayed his meeting with the HaVorante and was now on his way to sickbay—he assumed that’s where he’d find them. Them. The necromancers.

It was one thing to risk the lives of some of his senior staff; it was another thing to not inform the commanding officer and to desecrate the bodies of the dead in the process. Not that he was an angel himself, but he was always prepared for consequences of this actions, and in this case there would be reckoning.

“Captain,” a little ensign said with a smile.

“Not now,” Corizon growled, marching past him without a second thought.

The Captain was on a path of destruction likely only to be rivaled by General Sherman, innocents be warned.

Hey everyone,

The Excalibur Command team is pleased to announce the first Excalibur March Madness log competition!

The rules are pretty simple, starting today and running until March 28, any log written for Excalibur will be eligible for the "competition". Awards will be given in three categories: Command Team's Choice and Player's Pick, and separate one from non-plot logs. Command Team's choice will be selected from all entrants and be chosen by the CO and XO in both single person and joint-log categories, while player's pick will be selected by the crew at-large. However, you may only enter one piece for each type of award, (You can write a joint log and a single person log, as well as a non-plot log.) you can however enter in all three catagories.

To make a log eligible, all you need to do is include the tag: EMM08 in the Topic Description line.

Prizes will include "Get Out of ANY Peril FREE" cards and a healthy dose of satisfaction. As well everyone who enters will get a famed "Get Out of N'Dak-induced Peril FREE" card. Non-Excalibur players are also encouraged to participate, they simply need to e-mail either myself or Commander JoNs, or may participate in a jointt-log with a current Excalibur player.

Good luck everyone, and let the madness begin!

Excalibur's CafePress shop, Excalibur Quartermaster, has recently been updated with a completely new line of products featuring a new logo to better represent the Excalibur-C. Take a look!

Fog out my daylight, torture my night,

Feels like I’m falling, far out of sight…

It was simultaneously the most empty and tired feeling that Corizon could ever remember himself being. In the course of forty-eight hours he’d lost two teams, got one back and had an entire squadron of fighter pilots in his morgue, the latter sucked dry of blood and life.

Thank the gods his team on the planet had been rescued safely by the Marines and Security with the help of Lexin, or other wise he’d be in a drunken stupor the likes he hadn’t done since the War.

A long deep sign escaped his pale lips. It was 1536, just a few hours before he was scheduled to meet with the HaVorante Ambassador to discuss the markings on his dead pilots and the mysterious vessel that had warped out of the system just as Excalibur entered the system. He hated diplomacy. He hated diplomacy even more when he had better things to do, like go chasing the ships that left the nebula.

The bridge crew and his senior staff had made it no secret what they wanted to do when those ships left, but his duty was to the living first, revenge could wait. That didn’t make it any easier though.

He glanced back to his desk…

To the Family of Airman First Class Jai Wright,

It is my most somber duty, as your son’s commanding officer, to inform you that he has perished in the line of service to the Federation on my watch.

While your son only served under my command for a short time, I am told by his direct supervisors that he was amongst the best pilots in his squadron, and served with distinction in his brief tenure aboard the Excalibur, bringing peace by the sword, but a peace found only under liberty.

I wish there were words I could express to ease the pain and suffering I know this letter will cause you, but sadly I know that this loss can not simply be made easy. To you, I convey my deepest sympathies.

Sincerely,

Captain Ah-Windu Corizon,

Commanding Officer, USS Excalibur

One down, too many to go.

FROM: Doctor Eli Tamoris Lntn., Chief Medical Examiner, USS Excalibur

TO: Doctor E.J. Pilot, Lt Cmdr, Chief Medical Officer, USS Excalibur

CC: Cmdr M'Vess JoNs, Executive Officer, USS Excalibur

Cptn Ah-Windu Corizon, Commanding Officer, USS Excalibur

SUBJECT: PRELIMINARY AUTOPSY RESULTS

I have completed the preliminary results of the autopsies of the fighter pilots. I must say that they are among the most unusual scans I have ever taken in my career.

The bodies themselves were in almost perfect condition. There was no sign of external or even internal trauma, only the lightest signs of rigor have even begun to set into the bodies. The only real forensic clue I discovered in the preliminary examination was the lack of blood in all of the deceased.

However, none of the bodies showed signs of the standard methods for blood defusion. Normally, as complete removal of blood from a living body is extraordinarily difficult, I would theorize that this was done postmortem—however the lack of onset rigor, combined with several other conditions leads me to the conclusion that this was done while the patients were living.

A more through examination will likely yield more results.

One interesting note, I've included a copy of the marking found on the chests of the deceased. I began a search through our records for a match, I've so far found no matches.