Waking

[Cptn Corizon 0]

Author's Note: This log occures directly before the events of this week's sim.

 

The water slurped easily beneath the wooden oar as a gentle hand stroked it to the right side of the small canoe and then to the left, smoothly propelling the vessel foreword along the winding river. Corizon smelled the water upon the morning breeze, and he smiled as he pushed ahead. In the nose of his canoe his morning efforts glistened still wet from the brook.

 

Around him the breaking fog gave way to the rustling of the awakening forest, undisturbed by modern progress nature buzzed. Corizon imagined that someday he would retire to a life not unlike this; perhaps he would build a small cottage alone in a mountain forest and live as a solitary hermit. It certainly appealed to the reclusive Dameon. For now though, it was only a solitary retreat from the everyday hassles of being a Starfleet officer—is only his leave could be longer.

 

Opening his eyes, Corizon took a deep breath—the smell of the fresh dawn still in his mind. He sighed as the stale smell of recycled starship atmosphere replaced that memory. Someday he would make his home in solace of lonely forests, but that day was not today. Sitting up in bed he glanced over to the chronometer—0400 hours. He yawned lazily and rolled out of bed. The carpeted floors were soft to his bare feet and he stretched with another long yawn digging his claws into the carpet, something he was sure the maintenance engineers loved.

 

With another yawn he made his way to the sonic shower, shedding the loose fitting jinbe he slept in. While it was hard to beat the relaxation of a true shower, their was something refreshing about having thousands of sonic waves sluice the dead cells off your body. Wrapping himself in a towel he returned to his darkened quarters to dress himself.

 

Returning from his closet dressed in uniform, Corizon slid open a drawer from his dresser and in the darkness found his simple maroon hachimaki and tied it securely, holding his silver locks back.

 

After replicating a warm glass of tea, he picked up several of the PADDs strewn on his desk and looked at the chrono. He still had another hour before he had to be on the bridge, and he sighed to himself, looking over the PADD on the top. Today figured to be another uneventful day on Excalibur as it headed towards the Newel system. On some level, he was happy for the mundane routine they’d developed on the trip; he’d realized that the crew of the Excalibur had not yet been on a mission for any extended period of time since she’d returned from refit in the Alpha Quadrant. Since then, the crew had been tossed from one blazing battle to crisis and back, always teetering on the edge of defeat and disaster.

 

As boring as a 12-week patrol sounded to the seasoned Starfleet Captain, he also knew that it would be good for the crew to have bit of a routine for a change, and for everyone to get a feel for Excalibur.