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Cptn Corizon

The Price

As he finished filing the reprimands that would pock-mark the otherwise sterling careers of the three officers he’d labeled as the necromancers, Corizon considered for the first time his actions.

 

The fifty-four year-old Dameon had served in Starfleet now for over twenty-six years—almost half his life. His dress uniform was decorated with some of the highest honors to be awarded to a soldier: the Christopher Pike Medal of Valor, Karagite Order of Heroism, the Cochrane Medal of Excellence…the list went on. Yet it had taken him over twenty years to get his own command.

 

The simple reason it had taken so long was that he was a maverick of sorts, a rogue. When a job needed done and you needed someone who’d not let rules and regulations get in the way of his mission, you called on him.

 

ATAG used him this way, and while they respected him and valued him for the job he did, his style didn’t exactly meet the criterion for someone they wanted representing the Federation as a starship captain.

 

It wasn’t that he didn’t respect the rules. In fact he valued the order the Federation brought to the quadrant above all else—it was just that in his line of work, there were times that the rules would prevent him from accomplishing his goal and the safety of the Federation was more important than some rule or regulation.

 

Some information comes at too high a price.

 

His words echoed in his head. They sounded hollow. How many times had he paid prices greater than the ones they had to gain information, or to save his beloved Federation. He’d killed people. He’d violated the Prime Directive more times than he could count. Hell he was willing to use subspace weapons to god-only-knows what end to destroy the wormhole. All because the Federation was in danger.

 

The end justified the means.

 

These thoughts had caused him to pause. Was he justified in reprimanding the trio? Wouldn’t he have done the same thing? Finally he came to a conclusion. Yes, on both counts.

 

Part of being a rogue was dealing with the consequences of your actions. That’s why the Federation hadn’t fallen apart...yet. Some people felt that if you gave in to your darkest desires, if you weren’t careful whilst fighting monsters, you’d become one yourself. That much, he knew to be true, but why the Federation had yet to become the monsters it so proudly defeated, that it fought against, was because they didn’t reward monsters, like Corizon.

 

So while he appreciated the information that the necromancing trio had obtained, letting them go unpunished would only serve to further damage the whole. They’d done a great service to the dead, but they’d also broken rules to do it. They had gained, but now they’d pay the price.

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