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Craven

Cuts Marked In the March of Men

Proud.

 

That was how Jack Craven felt about the crew he served with. The Excalibur, under Captain Sorehl, had just won its first battle with the Scorpiads, and retreived its captured crew, including Captain Corizon, and it was all thanks to the teamwork that had taken place. Notably, what had happened on the bridge during the firefight.

 

Each member on the bridge, and otherwise, had been instrumental in coordinating the events leading up to the destruction of the Scorpiad Warship. Now, looking over his Science team's status reports, he was most proud of his team. He was glad his constant quest for a smooth running department had paid off in the hour of greatest need.

 

Tristan and the new Ensign, Vastia had really come through with the tissue sample from the Scorpiad fighter. Their analysis played no small role in Craven's advisments to Captain Sorehl during the conflict, and Craven was not about to forget it. He made a mental note to get them a round of drinks from the Holy Grail when they returned.

 

All around the ship it seemed an enormous weight had been lifted. Everyone's spirits were higher, and the cloud of fear was slowly disappearing amongst the crew, yet they remained cautious. Although they had won the battle, the wormhole was still under the controll of the Scorpiad forces.

 

Looking out his office window, Craven's thoughts turned to Ensign Ramson, who had piloted the stealth fighter in the rescue operation. Jack was impressed at the maneuverability of the craft, and was sure it was in no small part due to its pilot. Once this was all over he would be sure to put her in touch with his friend, Admiral Cromwell back at Starfleet HQ.

 

Then, the face of Admiral Nicholas Cromwell entered his thoguhts fully for the first time in weeks. The man who had been his close friend and mentor throughout the Academy, and the man who had signed the official order to have Craven put in charge of the MERLIN project under Captain Corizon.

 

Craven wondered if he would ever think of his friend the Admiral the same. He wondered how the Brass at Starfleet would remember this day.

 

Sighing, he sat down at his desk and returned to his work.

 

No matter, he thought.

 

This day belongs to us.

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