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Cptn Corizon

Terse

The past seventy-seven hours has been decidedly—bluring for the Dameon commander who now stood staring into the emptiness of space on the observation lounge the Excalibur. At some point in his life, he’d likely revist the events, rethink his decisions…but that day was certainly not today.

 

Some people would question what he’d done. His orders. His methodology. He didn’t. Not now. He did before, but now he’d made his choices and it was time to live with them. Well some of them anyway.

 

Mostly, he was going to have to live with the fact he likely sent some of his best officers to die on a secret mission deep in enemy territory. But he’d done that a thousand times. Why was this different? Hell, he’d been the one sent in on missions like this before, and even that didn’t bother him.

 

On some level there was a lingering doubt about the situation. About the course they were taking. War, conflict. It was the way of the Federation. Or at least not the Federation he’d signed up for nearly fourty-years ago. Times change, so did the Federation.

 

War has a tendency to leave scars on people, places…things. War had left its scars on the Federation and no situation Corizon had encountered seemed to illustrate that better.

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Mostly, he was going to have to live with the fact he likely sent some of his best officers to die on a secret mission deep in enemy territory.

 

Eh? Say what? Not that I'm concerned...or anything... ;-)

 

(I like the log as the "command officer's inner thoughts" angle)

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