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Cptn Corizon

Exiled to Gaul

Earth’s sun slowly crept over the orange-red disk the humans called Mars and bathed the grey objects floating in her orbit with glinting rays. One of the objects, the Oberon, floated gently in the caress of the Hashimoto Dry-dock Facility. The bulk of her hull busied with worker bees and the occasional floating spaceman.

 

Approaching from the surface, a small docking pod left the blinding sunrise for the eclipse of the dry-dock; for the first time her passenger laid eyes on his new command. Corizon smiled wryly as his golden disks filled with the mirror image of his charge.

 

Only two types of vessels were ever assigned to ‘catalog gaseous anomalies;’ those whose crews had seen either not enough space time or to much. He’d half been expecting the Oberon to be an old Connie. It came as a most pleasant surprise when the unmistakable figure of a--New Orleans-class starship filled the window of the small docking pod, her unmistakable mini-Galaxy look undiminished in his eyes by the swift lines of the newer ships.

 

“Approaching Oberon,” the pilot’s voice broke his concentration. “We are cleared for docking, sir.”

 

“Take us in, Crewman.”

 

The young enlistee smiled towards the Dameon commander in his dress whites and went back to piloting the pod, maneuvering it deftly into the airlock with a gentle thud.

 

Corizon nodded to the officer to open the doors. It’d been less than 36-hours since he’d said good bye to his Excalibur and already he was finding the Oberon to be tolerable and the crew decidedly competent. The first officer, Jueng, had found Corizon almost immediately after his transport had arrived at Mars and caught him up on the situation aboard the Oberon—the efficiency of the man had astounded Corizon.

 

Jueng, via comm. channels had also introduced Corizon to several of his new staff. And despite his best efforts not to, he’d found himself comparing them to his former staff, assigning them a mental designation as his Teykier or Admiran or even Segami. There was a human expression about the body not yet being cold…and he’d decided, to his own annoyance, that it applied.

 

A sign escaped his thin lips as he left the docking pod and stepped onto the Oberon for the first time. He sniffed at the air as he did so, finding it slightly staler…more antiseptic than the heavier air of the Excalibur which lingered with familiar scents.

 

As he walked through the airlock bulkhead and into the widened hallway of the reception area for the main airlock, he found himself flanked by a row of crewmen on either side of the carpeted path, all in dress uniform. The bosun whistle caused his ears to perk as they came to a crisp attention.

 

Glancing momentarily at the well groomed uniforms of his officers, he smiled towards them and the boatswain. “At ease.”

 

They snapped to a steady, if not anxious rest. By now, Corizon surmised they’d all heard horror stories of the canine Captain from hell and his penchant towards blowing things up on the first mission.

 

“I’ve been duly ordered and required to take command of this vessel,” Corizon said firmly. “Is the acting Commander present?”

 

“Sir, yes sir.” Jueng said sharply, stepping out of the line of officers and turning on heel to face Corizon. “To Commander Talin Jueng, acting commanding officer of the USS Oberon, NCC-24561, I am herby requested and required, under orders of Starfleet Command to relinquish command of this vessel to Captain Ah-Windu Corizon. I have confirmed the authenticity of and do fully comply with these orders. Captain, do you concur?”

 

“I concur. Counter orders, to Captain Ah-Windu Corizon, commanding officer USS Excalibur, NCC-2004-B. I have been hereby ordered and required to relinquish command of the USS Excalibur and report with haste to the Hashimoto Dry-dock Facility to assume immediate command of the USS Oberon, NCC-24561. I have confirmed the authenticity of and do fully comply with these orders. Commander, you are relieved of your duty as acting commanding officer, please resume your duties as Executive officer.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Ships officer, note in the log that at 1140 hours, I have assumed command of this vessel. All standing orders remain in place. Commander, dismiss the crew.”

 

Jueng nodded and turned to face the assembled crew. “All hands are dismissed.”

 

Corizon watched them leave and waited for Jueng to finish a quick conversation with the quartermaster before approaching him. “Commander,” he said, “I assume that everything is still on the schedule you provided to me earlier?”

 

“Yes, Captain.” Jueng said eagerly, a hint of pride showing in his inflexion. “We’re still on to set off at 2300 local.”

 

“Excellent,” Corizon said as he waved off the crewman getting ready to carry his lone duffle off to his quarters. “If you need me, I’ll be in my quarters getting settled in.”

 

“Not going to make an inspection, sir?”

 

“Maybe once we’ve gotten off.”

 

Jueng smiled, “Aye, Captain. Anything else?”

 

“Not that I am aware of.”

 

They parted companies and Corizon made his way down the corridors of the Oberon and to his quarters; while they weren’t as large as those he’d had on the Excalibur they were actually more fully equipped. Some of that, he surmised, was because the Oberon had been built at a time when the Federation wasn’t going to war every other month and they were still doing real exploration.

 

That thought lingered for a moment, and if he didn’t know better he thought he saw Victria’s reflection in the arched windows of his new quarters. He shook the uncomfortable feeling and tossed his duffle on the soft, mauve couch. There was little he could do about that situation till he wasn’t on icy terms in Munich. Besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t agree with their decision, just their actions.

 

Just as he was about to explore the second room, a glinting green bottle caught his eye on the desk. It did not take him long to recognize it as a bottle of French wine. There was a small tag with scribbled writing on it and he picked it up to read it.

 

“Checkers, I thought you’d like this…at least this way you won’t have to drink the water in Gaul…Best of luck and keep in touch.” ~ Cleopatra

 

Putting back down, he smiled. ‘Cleopatra’ was the call sign for one of his oldest friends in ATAG, and one of the few people whose opinion actually mattered. It was his subtle way of confirming exactly what Corizon had thought—he was being sent off to Gaul till things died down.

 

“Well I might as well enjoy my stay in exile then…”

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