Revelations, Questions, Uncertainty

[Cptn Corizon 0]

A low, long stream of sound escaped Corizon’s lips as he pressed his back into chair behind the desk in the ready room; the battle fought and won, the clean up begun. The entire sequence seemed blurry to the veteran of many battles. In a moment, the entire course of the conflict had turned upon its side and reversed.

 

The Hundred had appeared, seemingly out of no where, joined the forces of the Allies long enough to send the Al-Ucardian fleets into retreat, then disappeared as suddenly as they’d materialized upon the horizon.

 

The experience had been unsettling, to put it mildly. And though he was very grateful for the victory today, there was a lingering sense of uncertainty to the ordeal. Every time a question was answered, it seemed, another arose. Corizon’s mind was ever involved in thought, and the tactician in him pondered these new questions deeply.

 

Why had the less superior forces been sent to deal with these threats, with out back up of their more superior forces? While the outcome of the battle would have been difficult to predict, he did have to admit, it was not clear cut.

 

Everything he’d seen and heard of the Scorpiads made this seem…unusual. They’d been surgical and methodic in their assaults upon the Dominion laying to ruin entire fleets and solar systems. Why then had they not destroyed the allied fleet while they could? Destruction of the two fleets at Karema and 42-GX would leave the vast majority of the sector virtually unguarded, and in Corizon’s assessment, should Avalon fall, the Dominion would soon follow suite.

 

Something was definitely not right here, but what...Corizon shook his head with a sigh. It escaped him at the moment.

 

He glanced at the PADD Brian had handed to him. It was the casuality list. Corizon placed it aside, what ever plan the Scorpiads had, he hoped the loss of lives today was not in vain.

__

 

As the Excalibur trolled through the debris, it came across the remains of an Al-Ucard Fighter. Corizon stood on the bridge, just behind the tactical consol. The gamma shift had been busy, and he’d relieved the tactical officer a few moments before.

 

A small blinking light informed Corizon there was a faint life-sign aboard the adrift fighter, “Helm…all stop.”

 

Nodding, “Aye sir, all stop.”

 

Thus far this was the first Al-Ucardian survivor they’d found, and Corizon had ever intent of getting something more out of this said affair. “Stand by to tractor the fighter into our hold, beam the survivor directly to sick bay.”

 

Nodding the helm and operations officers did as they were told. Corizon glanced quickly at the sensor scan. “Lt. Gazriel,” he said swiftly. “You have the bridge, continue searching for survivors, I’ll be in medical.”

 

Arriving in medical a few moments after the survivor, Corizon headed quickly for the bio-beds. Like most of the ship, only the grave yard shift was on duty. Corizon noticed the young Doctor Akia working on his new patient and headed that way.

 

As soon as she came into view, his mouth opened wide and his ear fell to either side. “Vic..Victria.”

 

Akia turned from his work, sweat upon his brow and surprise on his face. “You know her Commander?”

 

Blinking several times, astounded by this quirk of fate, “Yes,” Corizon finally said. “She saved my life once.”

 

Turning back, he had little time to chit-chat Akia resumed work. “She’s in pretty bad shape Commander. She’s been with out oxygen for at least 30 minutes or so. Hopefully she doesn’t have any brain damage. We’re working on restoring higher brain functions now…”

 

Taking a step back, Corizon could say nothing. Al-Ucard had seemed so far away until this moment. Like a kaleidoscope that had been shaken into thousands of pieces and fallen back into the same formation by random chance, Corizon stood motionless.

 

Time itself seemed to stop for him, as Akia and the grave yard shift of Excalibur medical rushed to save her life.

 

“Commander…Commander,” Akia’s voice snapped like bear trap.

 

“Yes?” Corizon blinked.

 

“She’s going to recover,” he said, “though her physiology is very unique, we were able to repair most of her injuries. Shall I have security standing by when we revive her after she’d rested?”

 

“No,” Corizon said, his mind and thoughts taking back hold of his reality. “I’ll be here. Just contact me when you’re ready and wait for me to get down here.”

 

“I’ll let Doctor Reno know.”

___

 

Victria’s sudden resurrection had shaken the Commander, but despite what ever feelings he had for her, there was much work to be done, and he wasn’t going to let this new revelation deter or distract him.

 

Returning to the ready room, wishing to be alone, Corizon finally looked at the report that Brian had given him before leaving the Excalibur. He skipped over the names, there would be time for funerals and letters later.

 

“USS Brittan, destroyed…” his voice softening. “The Madison, the Thatcher, the Pacifica, the Tibet, the Wake Island.”

 

He stopped for a moment. Glancing out the window of the ready room as piece of debris floated by, the feel of the Dominion War creeping up his spine. “The Betelgeuse, the Prussia, the Hardgrave, the Cornwallis, the Catamount, the Big Horn, the Independence, and the Polar…all destroyed.”

 

Thirteen ships lost in all. I could have been worse, he supposed. The number of damaged ships though made his hopes sink; nearly the entire fleet had taken moderate to heavy damage with only a few surviving unscathed.

 

Leaning back in his chair, he placed the PADD down and closed his eyes, letting his ear fall down. Uncertainty pervaded his thoughts.