Maj Vaos

For a few moments, Vaos simply stared across the office assessing Kimura and attempting to put together a sentence that wouldn't cause the Colonel to either choke or shoot him on the spot. It was, to say the least, a rather difficult task. After a few moments he decided that straight forward honesty would be the best tactic. “Colonel,” he said. “You have a spy amongst your marines. Not only that, but your prisoners are not what they appear to be.” Unconcerned, Kimura took a seat at his desk. Youngsters were always so prone to dramatic pronouncements. "I suppose you mean the young fool you've been bedding," he replied. "As for my prisoners, I'm well aware there's more to them than meets the eye, and I'm perfectly capable of obtaining that information without your blundering assistance. Korix reeled back, caught off guard by Kimura's pronouncement of his affair. Finally regaining composure, he shook his head. “I don't doubt your skills as an interrogator,” Korix said. “However, these are not ordinary circumstances, nor is the spy my...companion.” "Oh, no?" Supremely casual, Kimura made a beckoning gesture. "What plots has your fertile imagination developed today? Pursing his lips in frustration, Korix took a deep breath. He despised men like Kimura; they were so caught up in their elitism that anyone not from their circle was an impetuous twerp who was to be dismissed out of hand. “It is no illusion,” Korix said indignantly. “A Romulan, posing as Marine has infiltrated your unit and is planning Prophets knows what with your prisoners, who might I add, don't belong in this universe.” "I know that," Kimura said scathingly. "Now -- who is this supposed Romulan?" The Bajoran Internal Affairs officer crossed his arms and glanced back into the NNC before speaking. “My people are working on getting a real identity for him now. Whoever he really is, he is posing as a 'Second Lt. Valek'.” "Mm. And I suppose it's mere coincidence that Valek is the man who thwarted your people's last attempt to accuse mine of something untoward." Kimura's statement wasn't entirely false and Vaos wasn't going to bother repudiating it either. “Most likely,” he said, “or that was simply an attempt to gain your favor, to keep you...blind to his movements.” "Well." Kimura stood up abruptly. "Thank you for you interest, Ensign. Now, I have an interrogation to resume..." “You honestly don't think I came all the way down here to have you walk out on me, do you?” The colonel shot him a look. "Seeing as it's my office and my section of the station, I rather expect you to be doing the walking out." "I am here," he said pointedly, "because the Viceroy sent me. We have a...plan." "To do what, precisely?" Kimura folded his arms, wearing an expression suggesting he expected to find the so-called plan rather amusing. “We believe that the Romulans are responsible for bringing both yours and my prisoners to this universe, the Viceroy and I feel it prudent to allow them to...repatriate the prisoners leading us to the Romulan cell operating somewhere in this system.” "Ah. So, in other words, you have concocted an dangerous plan on a fantasy." Kimura frowned. "Risk your own prisoners on this pipe-dream, Korix. I have better uses for mine." "The Viceroy feels differently," he said triumphantly. "As the Romulans have had contact with yours...which, incidentally, now fall under my jurisdiction." "Like hell," the colonel said flatly. "Get out of my office, Ensign." "Do I have to pull out the regulation?" "Do I have to remind you of the difference between a colonel and an ensign?" "Under Imperial regulations, in the matters of Internal Security..." Korix rattled off, well aware he was on ice thinner than paper. "In the event that breach of security of the nature of an incursion from another Universe should occur, the Internal Affairs officer has full authority to exercise whatever he chooses fit to determine the nature of the incursion." The colonel remained unimpressed. "You have two prisoners with which to determine the nature of the incursion." "Yours, however, have had contact with the Romulans. That makes them more useful...and under my jurisdiction." "They've had no such contact," Kimura replied dismissively. "Security tapes will prove otherwise." "Produce them, then. Until you do..." The colonel steered him firmly to the door. "I have work to do." "With due respect Colonel," his voice rose. "I would remind you of the penalty of interfering with an Internal Affairs investigation." Condescendingly, Kimura chuckled. "I haven't begun to interfere yet." He ushed Korix from the office. "Evidence, Ensign. Or don't bother me again." "I'll be back in 30 minutes, and then I sincerely hope you cooperate fully."

“We're not free to love you know.” “Yes,” Korix said lifting his soft lips off his lover's. “Such is the price we pay.” “Kimura would skin me alive for sleeping with you...let alone...” “I know.” “Can you stay with me tonight?” The Bajoran's marine lover said pulling the naked body of the Internal Affairs Inspector closer to him. “Please.” Returning the embrace, Korix again pressed his lips against the soft lips of his partner and released them. “I don't know...someone might see me.” “Oh.” They both sat up in bed and looked at each other in the dimmed light. Korix sighed to himself, and put a hand on his lover's muscled chest. “You know I love you,” he said softly. “but if people knew about us...they'd use you against me.” “I know...but I had something for you...” “A present?” “Information...” Walking towards his office the next morning, that conversation rang in his head. He wasn't entirely sure what do make of it either. Though he'd learned a covert Romulan terrorist cell was operating on Deep Space Nine, and he'd heard their was one of their members embedded in the marine battalion, he'd not believed it until now. And even though the information had come from the mouth of a lover, he wasn't entirely sure he trusted it. Despite the friction between himself and Colonel Kimura, he did not take Kimura for a fool, nor could believe that a spy could so easily slip under his radar. It was rare, after all, for someone of Kimura's rank to rise in power without being able to spot deception amidst his subordinates. And then it had hit him. Like a ton of latnium bricks dropped from the sky. The Romulans were smuggling people from other universes into this one...or at least that was the story he was going to put forth. Frankly he didn't care. It was becoming clearer that Romulans were trying to smuggle something, and the four individuals in custody were somehow connected. And so long as he grabbed one of the two...he'd be able to snag a promotion. Some people—like Kimura—would disapprove of such an attitude. Labeling him as an opportunist, someone unconcerned with the real facts and the real story so long as he got a name and a trophy to nail on the wall. In a way they were right. But at the end of the day, he also knew Munich...and the Empire wouldn't care less, so long as they had something to put on the headlines. Taking a glances across Kimura's desk, he started formulating how to tell the Colonel he had a Romulan spy lurking right underneath his nose.

A single gloved finger ran its way along the railing of the promenade. Wrapped in black leather, it skimmed softly against the hard, cold metallic silver that separated the upper track from the drop to the lower levels of the room. Well polished boots sparkled in the lighting as they clicked against the deck plating. He lifted his finger and inspected it for dust—finding nothing. A smile crossed his face and he continued walking. As he approached, bystanders cleared the way. Dressed in black pants and a black jacket that he left unzipped to reveal the form-fitting gray tunic beneath, he cast a menacing figure visually. But it was his reputation that had begun to cause the civilians and junior officers alike to scurry, or avoid him with contempt—like many of the senior officers behaved. In his short tenure as Internal Affairs Junior Inspector he'd already disappeared half a dozen people suspected of colluding with Cardassian rebels, smuggling an array of goods, and at least one person rumored to have been working as a Romulan spy. Of course, none of those rumors could be substantiated, but the young Ensign had already begun to garner a name for himself. Korix Vaos stopped along the railing and watched the buzzing of traffic below him. As a Bajoran, he couldn't help but feel pride swelling in his chest as he watched his planet become one of the most important hubs of Imperial commerce, to say nothing of their new found dominion over their nemeses the Cardassians. In way, the young Bajoran typified many of his species in the new Imperial prefecture; born to a wealthy family, he found power at his finger tips with the Bajoran's alliance with the Empire. And like others his age, he was rising in power and stature with great ease, while the Cardassians fell beneath the yoke of the Empire. While they toiled and sweat their blood for the Empire, Korix and others like him found doors opening for themselves across the Empire. Korix, for example, was able to become the adept of one of the highest ranking men in Imperial Internal Affairs, allowing him to gain early entrance to the academy and a prestigious appointment on his homeworld. However, there was a price for this new found upward mobility. Parvenu, the Bajorans were considered by many in the establishment of the Empire to be the nouveau riche. And those with the ambition of young Korix, were held with even higher contempt by many in the armed forces. That however did not detract the investigator; he actually found it easier to find rats in their webs of lies and deceit when they made it publicly clear they disapproved of him—the miscreants who worked in opposition of the Empire felt they could identify with him. And that allowed him to create an information network in stealth. Today he stalked a petty thief, whom he'd heard rumors of, that supposedly knew how a network of terrorists were smuggling weapons through the blockades into the Cardassian labor camps. Men like this one were easy enough to turn. They cared only for their survival and the promise of clemency for what were truly petty crimes usually was enough of a price to pay for valuable information. Gaius Tamore stood with his back to Korix, looking innocently enough at a vid-feed of the Imperial News Network. If it weren't for the almost nervous glances to a nearby shoppers purse, it would be hard to tell he was about take someone's valuables. Little did he know he was walking into a carefully developed ruse. A few moments later, just as the commotion of the Promenade picked up as foot traffic from a recently docked freighter streamed in, Tamore made his move. He grabbed at the purse the woman held loosely between her arm and ribcage and began running down the promenade . Expecting a relatively clean getaway, he was more than a little surprised to hear the voice of a burly security officer shout out “Stop.” And even more surprised when he felt the stinging searing of an energy weapon hit him in the chest and back, causing him to fall to the floor with a thud. From his balcony viewpoint, Korix tugged at his leather gloves, grinning happily and began walking towards his office. The fun was just about to begin. "As always," he said smugly, "The Empire prevails."

And you know, not all Bajorans think those wormhole aliens are gods ;)

Korix turned to the marine, a small smile on his face as he tugged on his leather gloves. "Tell me, what is the ultimate power?" The marine looked towards the legate, surprised he was speaking to him. "Having control?" Tipping his head sideways, "I see the Colonel teaches her men well. Yes, I suppose control is power. The power to give life, death, pain, pleasure." He looked at the lizard, who lay writhing on the cold metallic table. "You see there are many different ways to torture." Korix turned slightly. Next to the table, a tray of silvery instruments sparkled under the lights. "The yellow-shirts, they prefer to use brute force and pain to get what they want." Smiling ever so slightly, the marine tried to hide his enjoyment in that little barb. "The marines, ironically," Korix ran his fingers over the instruments. "They tend to be a little more creative in their methods. Take the Colonel for example; she's a master at psychological torture. And damned creative at that... if not a bit vindictive." Unsure the marine simply nodded, not quite sure what the Legate was up to. "And you?" Korix smiled. "Me, I tend to be creative with my torture, never quite the same thing." Taking a sharp, dangerous looking object in between gloved fingers, Korix pressed it into the soft, white scales of the lizard's underbelly. "See how he writhes in pain when I apply too much pressure to a soft spot?" The marine responded with a nod. "What does that imply?" "That you intend exploit that weakness to your advantage?" As if the question was rhetorical, which it was, Korix conitnued without responding directly. "It means he has a lot of nerve centers here and that in all likelihood, it's an erogenous zone as well." Placing the instrument aside, Korix ran smooth, leather wrapped fingers along the white underbelly. Stroking it gently with the grain. The lizard, despite itself, hissed happily. "Nature, you see, has a funny way of undermining the will of the man." Lifting an eyebrow, the marine queried, "You intend to seduce the scaley into telling you what you want?" "Don't be ridiculous; I already have one reptilian slave, and he'd be jealous." On cue, Korix suddenly changed the direction of his stroking, the leather glove raking the scales against the grain, pulling them back; the lizard hissed angrily. "I am sorry, did that hurt?" A tail lashed towards him, catching the marine in the leg. "You scaley little basta..." “Now, now," Korix said gently. "No need for name calling. I think our reptillian friend is aware that he came from eggs and that he has scales, and that he's as good as dead. It's only a matter of how much pain he endures before he dies. Which really ruins all the fun for me." "I mean once he knows he's going to die, it really ruins all the fun in killing him." The marine couldn't help but look at the Legate like he was going insane. "Then you don't want to torture him?" "Oh, I am going to torture him all right..." Perplexed, "I am confused." "Of course you are," Korix said devilishly. "You see there are several reasons to torture someone. Either you’re just a sadistic bastard who's into that kind of thing, you really hate them, or you want something out of them. Or a combination of the three." Shaking his finger in the air as he talked, "I however, while certainly having been accused of being a sadistic bastard, just want information out of him. So doing those really horrible tortures really isn't a good idea. He can't talk if he's in a pain induced coma, or dead." Stroking at his chin for a moment as he stopped near the foot of the bed, he looked towards the lizard. "How about this, you scaley bastard: you tell me what I want and those three friends of yours in the freezer don't get made into soup. Or purses maybe..." The marine stepped back, watching the Legate at work. The lizard hissed angrily, his forked tongue coming in and out of his mouth many times. "Why would I tell you anything, we're all dead as you said." "See what I mean about once they know they're all going to die?" Returning to the scaled one, "Not exactly. I didn't really plan on killing you. Making your life miserable, sure. But it's a lot more fun to see you alive. Perhaps sold into slavery... maybe to a zoo?" "Whats the difference then, either way no matter what I tell you, I suffer." "In the words of my human compatriots, yeah pretty much," Korix smiled broadly. "Buuuut, I've given you a choice now. You can save the lives of the three others, and be better than us horrible Imperial oppressors, or you can stoop to our level and save your own humility by making me kill you." The Lizard shifted uncomfortably in the restraints. "You leave me little choice..." "That was the idea," Korix pointed out. "But how do I know you'll keep your end of the bargain." "You don't, except you do know I won't hesitate to leave your little friends in the freezer, or perhaps have matching luggage made out of the lot of you." "And maybe a pair of boots too." He turned to the Marine. "Don't you think he'd look fetching?" "Maybe some new gloves as well, Legate. Made from his belly." "Oh, very good," Korix said, "I see the Colonel didn't skip the lesson on how to accessorize as an evil Imperial Bastard." "She has a whole chapter on you, Legate." "I am sure she does," he turned back to the Lizard. "Now what's it going to be?" "Very well, I will tell you what I know..." Sometime later the Legate and the Marine left the interrogation lab, walking next to each other. "So tell me, sir. Do you really intend to release the other three prisoners?" "And miss out on an opportunity to get new boots?"

{ The Return of Everyone's Favorite...wait, he's not a Marine? Jigga-Wha-what? } STARFLEET DATABASE PERSONELL FILES Name: Vaos Korix (Korix Vaos) Age: 37 (Born 2360) Sex: Male POB: Bajor Ht: 5’10” Wt: 180 lbs Race: Bajoran Rank: Lt. Cmdr., ISS Agincourt Father: Baren Korix, Vedek, Bajoran Provincial Government Mother: Wynn Korix, House wife Siblings: Tyua Korix, Bajoran Imperial Liason Scars: vertical gash along neck, XenexianDagger puncture wound on chest, broken ribs Past History: The Youngest son of the Korix family, Vaos (by tradition he goes by Korix first) was born on Bajor during the earliest stages of what would become the Cardassian-Earth War. At the time, his family was living in the tropical Degal region near the equator. When Vaos was fourteen, he was apprenticed to the Vice-Imperial Inquisitor General. That man, Cauldros DiGaro, would take Vaos under his wing and would spend the next years carefully grooming and attending to his prodigy’s career. When the Cardassian War ended, he was just over 16 years of age, and at DiGaro’s urging he applied for entrance into the Imperial Academy in San Fransisco, where he was accepted and taken into the elite ‘Internal Affairs’ track, at the age of 17. He graduated 4th in his class in 2381. His initial posting was in the Cardassian sector as a junior Internal Affairs inspector over a handful of systems. By this time, his mentor DiGaro had been elevated to Supreme Imperial Inquisitor General and Vaos was quickly promoted to Senior Inspector over most of the Cardassian sectors; before long he was transferred to Earth and placed in the IA Headquarters in Munich as one of DiGaro’s chief lieutenants. Eventually earning the rank of Commander, and being positioned as the Chief of Staff to DiGaro, there was little doubt of Vaos’ illustrious future; but like so many who gain power quickly and rise to the top, his fall would be as brilliantly stunning as his rise. During a routine inspection of a possible infiltration on Starbase 247, Vaos allowed his political ambitions to move before his duty, in the process, enemies of old resurfaced to pounce upon him. The public disgrace had serious consequences for him, and DiGaro had little choice but to publicly punish his former prodigy to appease those who would use the incident against him. Exiled from Headquarters in Munich and demoted in rank, Vaos found himself as an overseer and Imperial Legate to the Elasian Prefecture on the conquered world of Xenex. By this time, the Elasians had brutally suppressed the local populace into submission, and had begun to use them as slave labor. Vaos was tasked with assuring compliance with “Imperial Labor laws,” as well as assuring loyalty from the Elasian soldiers and their slaves. With the dawn of the Romulan-Earth War, the still-in-exile Vaos remained on Xenex until the Surrender of Versailles. Following the end of the war, he was transferred to a Romulan Prison camp on ch’Nev where he was the senior Investigator. In 2397, he was transferred to the ISS Agincourt as Legate and Chief Internal Affairs officer.

Korix straightened his uniform as he stood outside Jamie's quarters. This would be interesting. He reached and pressed the chime. Jamie jumped off his couch, looking for a intruder. He was wearing simple pajama pants, and nothing more, having decided to take a much needed nap after his 'fight' with Colonel Harper. "Enter..." Korix stepped in slowly, looking very much like the perfect soldier from the recruitment posters. His hair perfectly cut, his uniform creased perfectly, and his boots shimmering even in the low light. The moment Jamie identfied the man disturbing his sleep, his eyes shot to the green stained knife resting on a plaque on a wall. He slowly turned his head to the major, hiding his suprise behind a stoic face. "And just what in the name of all things unholy do you want?" "I know what you're feeling. I've been there," Korix said, almost friendly in his approach. He paused a moment, stopping just inside the door. "I've been the one getting shot at because someone made a horrible command decision." "I almost wish I could care, Major." His tone was about as acidic as he could make it while still coming to. Korix's thoughts turned to that blasted jungle during the Romulan Civil War. But quickly returned, though there was a certain weakness to his eyes. "You got stunned. But none of your people got killed when the mission went FUBAR..." "I wasn't so lucky." Jame let out a small sigh, as he got himself a glass of water. "Don't try to justify yourself. A half-witted engineer can tell you're here for reasons obviously classified. Your orders are hardly my concern." "Not my intention at all," the major said quite truthfully. "I made a mistake. Won't be my first, won't be my last." "I was more concerned about you," he continued. Jamie couldn't help but furrow his brow as he noted some of his own qualities in the man, as much as he hated the thought. "Concerned about what?" He took a drink from his glass. "I know how you feel right now. You just want to deck me, don't you? Lash out at the person who made the mistake, and put your team in danger, right?" Jamie gave him a small nod, deciding against letting him know just how far past 'decking' him he was willing to go. "Your point being?" "You can take that path. Stay angry. Be consumed by hate, self-pity, and failure. You can become one cold SOB..." Korix paused, the description fit himself, he shook the thought off. "Or you can take the higher road. Forgive the person who made the mistake. And realize that everyone makes mistakes. Sometimes they cost people thier lives, sometimes they don't. " "But in both cases, the person who makes the mistake," Korix said. "They're the one who has to live it with for the rest of their lives. Not you. Not the victim." Jamie gave him a small, almost sarcastic smile. "Korix, you are one of many, many issues on my mind. But if it calms your conscience, I understand the need to follow orders." "This isn't about me," Korix said once more. "This is about you and that massive chip on your shoulder the size of a Romulan ego. You're angry. And I don't know if you even know why anymore. Do you? Or are you just angry for the hell of it?" At the moment, Korix saw a lot of himself in Jamie, and that troubled him more than he was willing to admit. Jamie’s eyes flashed at the mention of the word Romulan, but he refused to let the major see it. "I have plenty of reasons for why I am the way I am, Major." "I am sure you do," Korix said. "And I have my reasons for being the way I am. I bet even that crazed Romulan has a reason for being the way he is. The question is, do you want to live with that chip on your shoulder for the rest of your life. Do you want to walk down that way, or do you want to change it. Choice is yours." 'Crazed Romulan' prompted many faces in Jamie's mind, although he was rather positive on who Korix referred to. "I am a man who doesn't let go of such things, Major. My vendettas won't die until I kill them, on my terms." "Who's the bigger man," Korix said with a stern look on his face. "The man who kills out of revenge or the man who forgives?" Jamie couldn't believe what he was hearing; first from Harper, now from him? It was seriously making him doubt the Marines' capabilities. "Why should I forgive him? Why should I let the knowledge that he wronged me die into the night?" "How many men have you killed, Jamie? How many lives have you ended?" He stared at Korix for a moment, having a sound guess where this was headed. But then again, maybe he needed to hear this. "Four." "I remember during the Civil War... there was a half-Bajoran/Cardassian in my unit... we got separated from our unit... we were under heavy fire. Just the two of us... We were under heavy fire, and he got shot. Right in the stomach by a disruptor. He was bleeding... I had a medkit... but... I just couldn't look beyond the Cardassian half of him. I just sat there... and let him die. He hadn't done anything to me. He wasn't even alive during the Occupation. I'll never forget his face as the last bit of life floated away. I killed him. I sat there and watched him die, ” Korix said, a dark note in his voice, a distant look in his eyes as the face of the young marine dying flashed in his mind. “I don’t even remember was his name was… but I’ll never forget the look in his eyes. The look he gave me.” For a few long moments, silence filled the air. Korix finally spoke, “And what about you. The men you've killed... self-defense, right?" He looked over to the knife. "The first one, yes. The ones after that, on Arkanis, I'm not positive. I told myself it was necessary, but now..." "Now you find yourself wrapped in guilt, hatred, and anger. You've become the very thing you hate most." "Worse... I enjoyed it." He paused for a moment, realizing he was being truthful. "Confession is good for the soul," Korix said thoughtfully. Jamie gave him a weak smile, for a moment pondering why it was always the Marines... "So then, I guess you'd be my sin eater?" "I lost my faith a long time ago." Korix's voice weakened momentarily, though his face remained stoic. His mother's earing swayed gently in his ear. "And I've learned that in the end, the only person who can forgive you... and the only person it matters to... is you." He pondered for a moment, watching Korix's face. "You're here trying to save me, but have you even saved yourself, Major?" "I am not trying to save you," Korix said. "I am trying to get you to save yourself. My own absolution... well... that's between me... and me." Jamie gave him a slow understanding nod. "I'm not going to lie to you, and tell you you've changed my life. But, it is a fresh perspective, at the very least." Korix tilted his head. "Absolution is a long process; you've taken the first step." He gave the major another nod, as the effects of their conversation still settled in. "I never thought I'd say it, Major, but thanks."

Korix stepped carefully, making sure his footsteps didn’t fall in a sinkhole or tree root. Given the animosity he’d propagated with Kansas, he fully expected her to devour him, should he fall and become seriously wounded. Of course, making enemies wasn’t something he worried about, let alone fretted his life away on. Glancing at the Caitian ahead of him, he wondered just how far he could push her before he snapped that legendary Caitian patience. Harper had bet that she wouldn’t break—he’d have to work harder. But at the moment, he was trying just to get back to the shuttle in one piece. About him he heard the disharmonious hum of a disturbed jungle. His thoughts carried him back to the Romulan Civil War. Paxelon VII-B Jungle Moon The stench of a humid jungle filled his nostrils. His skin, what the jungle body armor left exposed anyway, glistened with sweat. All about him, the jungle seemed to be in disarray as the Starfleet Marines skulked through the weaving mess of vines and underbrush. Lieutenant Major Korix Vaos walked point. A type-III phaser rifle at the ready. Dressed in jungle fatigue, dark green pants with several pockets, a black-tight fitting sleeveless vest covering his mid-section and chest with a dark green flack vest overtop, and a non-standard issue bandanna wrapped about his head. On either hip he carried a type-II phaser, extra power-clips, and two very sharp daggers. Along his leg, a long machete lay sheathed. For some reason he imagined a Romulan tourist agency trying to sell vacations to this wonderful little spot. “Come see the 50,000 types of dangerous plant and animal life!” Ahead he saw movement in the vines. Instantly he drew his phaser rifle to his shoulder and peered through the sights giving his own team of 18 Marines just enough time to find cover. “All Clear,” he finally said with a brief sigh. “Just another K’nssae.” Moments later a tall twelve-legged beast emerged from bush and headed towards the stream they were paralleling. Though K’nssae could be dangerous, if left alone, they were harmless; after it passed Korix motioned for his team to resume marching. It was day 12 of their vacation on this lovely bug-infested, humid sauna, they’d transported in on the edge of the Tal’Shiar sensor network and slowly creped in towards their base. The small, relatively remote moon base housed an important communications uplink as well as something called a “Phoenix System.” In essence, it allowed the Tal’Shiar to have access to their central mainframe from a system of secure network nods situated across Romulan space…and rumored to be on several other systems throughout the Quadrant. Capturing one of them, or at least infiltrating one would be invaluable to the Allied war effort. So far they’d failed to take one. Several kilometers later, Korix smiled ever so slightly. They’d just crossed the small river that wound around through the jungle maze and led into the base. Thankfully the Tal’Shiar hadn’t cooked up some exotic and impenetrable defensive strategy that would draw attention to the otherwise unimportant sector. As his team approached the small cave that was to be their way into the base, Korix had a gut wrenching feeling that this was all too easy. He held up his hand, stopping the team and called over his second. “This is the obvious way in,” he said, kneeling and picking up a small stick. “They have to be expecting us to go in this way.” The other officer, M. Captain Gakkin peered at the display nodding. They’d all thought so the entire march in, just no one had said it yet. “What are you thinking?” Quickly sketching a map of the base and its defenses, Korix smiled slightly. “We knock on the front door.” Gakkin blinked his six compound eyes several times. “Sir?” “Assuming they don’t have an ambush waiting for us in the caves,” he said assuredly, “We’ll have to fight them once we get in the facility.” “But the element of surprise…” “I think they know we’re here.” “How can you tell, sir?” “It’s to quite,” Korix said. “Listen to how quite it is…almost dark and they should be serving dinner by now and we should be hearing them talk. But it’s quite…they’re waiting on us.” Gakkin nodded anxiously—it was too quite. “Here’s the plan,” Korix said finally. “I want you to lead the team that takes the front door. I’ll take a second team with the web-monkeys and Joailin into the caves. You’ll distract them, hopefully draw them out of the caves. While we sneak into the base.” Gakkin nodded his approval of the plan. “Yes sir.” In retrospect, Korix would write in his report that this wasn’t one of his better command decisions. In fact, he filled it away as one of his worst cockamamie schemes ever. Gakkin and his entire team were slaughtered before they even got into the base. His team managed to make it to the first stairwell that led to a shaft that they were planning to use to infiltrate the base when they ran into an entire squad of Tal’Shiar and Rei’Krannsu. He and one of the webbies managed to escape to the extraction point, but just barely. Though he was absolved of any wrong doing, the defeat at Paxelon stuck in his head and there it festered. Marching through the underbrush, he wandered just cockamamie his current scheme was.

Vaos didn’t turn back to see if anyone was following them, as he and his kitty companion made for their shuttle a wee bit faster than he’d intended to originally. He’d just had a very close call, and if it hadn’t been for that…ball-thingy (hey, he’s a marine…you want technobabble, assign an engineer to black ops) he and Kansas would probably be about the consistency of the crumbs off his toast. A few minutes later they arrived at their shuttle hanger—finding it completely untouched…something Korix had not anticipated, but welcomed none the less. They quickly began start up procedures and powered off towards their mission. It wasn’t until they were in the safeness of space that it occurred to Korix exactly how dangerous of a mission they were embarking upon. Hunting down a rouge smuggler who’d gotten his hands on some pretty sweet technology; waiting till said smuggler moved off; then steal said technology and bring it back…all the while avoiding the Agincourt and well anyone else who could compromise his mission. Riiiiggggghhhht. Easy as 1-2-3. A small scowl appeared on his face as he tapped in the coordinates for a small moon, due to their ealier than anticipated departure, they’d have to wait for the smuggler to leave, then try and follow him with out him noticing. Some days, Korix thought to himself, you were better off staying in bed. Then he remembered who he’d woken up next to—okay maybe not today.

Can I have: "Hi, I have a Marine Problem"

Korix leaned back into the pilot’s seat of the shuttle occupied by himself, Kansas, and at least half a dozen weapons illegal in most known star systems. He ran his hands through his short, marine cropped, brown hair, bringing them back over his face with a long, deep yawn. He suspected that their last encounter had seemed a little more dangerous to Kansas than the reality of the situation. Either that, or he’d lived near the edge so long, that he was beginning to be used to it, which was a slightly disturbing revelation. Looking her way, he smirked every so slightly. Polar opposites, the two were; for starters she had fur. That very difference seemed to highlight the gulf that separated them. Korix Vaos was a solitary man; his life had been complex and taken from him at an early age. Kansas, has grown up in the warm welcoming arms of the Federation. Before he could walk, he knew hardship. His parents barely had enough to keep him and his brother alive. When he was three, he had severe fever and nearly died. It was only the…sympathy of certain Ferengi Bartender at the ore processing center called Terok Nor that had saved his life then. At the age of five, he witnessed his father being tortured to death for helping a member of the Resistance escape. That same year, his mother, refusing to be a ‘comfort woman’ took her own life, with her sons in her arms. The Occupation had stolen his dreams away. All he had left was the Federation, his duty, and his honor. Kansas was full of life, and looking for adventure. She seemed young and vital, while Korix seemed cold, hard, and some how…dead. As he took her in, he wondered if he was ever that young. The fleeting thoughts of childhood faded from his mind as he pushed those thoughts away. One of they first things they teach you during special ops training is to remain focused on the mission, because even one slip-up can not only ruin the entire op, it can cost you, cost you your life. Psychologically refocusing himself, he mentally went over the timeframe of how he arrived at this point. Some months ago, Tal’Shiar and Reman…rebels…attacked the critically important installation of Pax Primus. The Agincourt had apprehended several of the ‘rebels.’ Vaos’ organization with the assistance of the new Romulan intel agency the Tal’Diann, had learned of a possible connection to a group of weapons smugglers in the Arkanis sector. Unfourtunatly, the previous operatives that had tried to infiltrate the operation had failed, and Vaos had been put on the job. Now it was time to find out exactly how connected those smugglers were, and whether or not they really were helping supply weapons to these rebels.

October 5, 2397 The stars streamed by as Korix watched out the window. He couldn’t help but smile as the Agincourt put distance between themselves and the petty politics engulfing Earth. Everyone gave Marines a hard time for being trigger happy…but at least Marines, unlike politicians were pro-active and not reactive. Marines shoot first and ask questions later. Politicians ask stupid questions, then if the opinion polls are right…then they think about shooting. He’d had this same argument a million times with his brother. It always struck Korix as strange how different the two of them really could be; his brother always the cool headed one was destined to be a politician. He believed in the value of cooperation and diplomacy, Korix could care less for the latter and only thought the former useful when it advanced the needs of Bajor…or now…the Federation. Of course, the sharpest distinction between the brothers was their faith in the prophets. The Occupation broke Korix. Seeing his parents executed at the hands of the Cardassian, scrapping for every ounce of food and unable to do anything about it, destroyed his faith. He couldn’t revere any gods that would stand by and watch such horrid suffering of their people. Sure, he accepted that the “prophets” existed…but he sure as hell wasn’t about to start praying to them. Of course, Korix was a man of contradictions. His name for starters…Korix Vaos…when his name was Vaos Korix…he wore the earring… When a fellow cadet asked him why he did those things, if he didn’t believe in the imminence of the prophets…Korix didn’t have trouble responding. “I don’t have to believe in the dogma to respect the traditions of my people,” he’d said of the name. And the ear ring: “This is all I have left of my mother.” The young cadet blinked, blushed and held his head low. “I am sorry…I didn’t know.” The same reaction that Hanna-Beth Rieve had… Korix would never understand humans and this notion of sympathy. What in the world was there to be sorry for? Sure the Occupation had been terrible. And he’d probably be the same again. But if all you did was sit around and be sorry about it, then what was the point of living anymore? The Occupation had shattered his dreams, broken his spirit, turned his dreams to dust, and ruined his faith. But he’d be damned if he was going to give the Cardassian the satisfaction of knowing that they had broke him. And to Korix, crying over it…living the past…was breaking. And now, with the recent attacks on Earth…humans he thought, needed to learn that lesson. They could sit around and sob, and descend into the darker realms of the human spirit. They could break the alliance, declare war on the Romulans, whip out every last one of the pointy-eared green-bloods, but none of that would make them feel better. Nor would it bring back anyone who’d died. That was the true lesson of the Occupation. Sure it would have felt good to eliminate the entire Cardassian homeworld in the aftermath of the Dominion War. But would that have brought back anyone killed in the Occupation? No. Would it revive his parents from the dead? No. As Korix watched the stars streamed by, he reflected on how sheltered humans really were, and pondered if that was why when something actually did break through their sugar coated shields of protection they flipped out. He shook his head. They have so much to learn…

Korix sat in the command chair of the USS Agincourt, quite pleased to be there instead of on Earth—god anywhere but Earth. Since he’d come on aboard the Agincourt, he’d done his best to be scarce around the command staff, least they invite him to that dreadful affair most of them would be attending. Growing up in the midst of an occupation, grand gala affairs comprised very little of ones times, and as such weren’t welcome or comfortable events. More like complete and utter wastes of time. They could be half-way to their next destination instead of wining and dining in some monument to the human affinity for opulence. Of course, the ‘reason’ for the ball—celebrating the second anniversary of the ToV—didn’t seem all the appealing either. The whole event seemed more of a PR stunt than an actual diplomatic event. The skeleton crew around him worked diligently, monitoring the resting Agincourt. He wondered if this was how Harper punished people she didn’t like—give them skeleton duty while everyone else cavorted on shoreleave. Korix let a smirk crease across his lips, and then hid it beneath the hard exterior he put forth. He glanced at the chronometer on the bridge, two more hours, and then he could get some sleep. Then, it would be back to the grindstone. Davies would get his orders from the Admiralty…most likely complain…resent Korix for it…and finally realize he pretty much didn’t have a choice in the matter. Korix shook his head, he preferred when the Marines and the Fleeters were kept separate. No conflicts of power, no struggles of egos. But no…they just had to ship off on some half-baked mission with a bunch of green Fleeters and an unproven Captain. Had Korix believed in the immanence of the Prophets a prayer would likely have followed that thought, however…he simply groaned instead.

living through an N'Dak Academy

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