Back at Camelot

[Cptn Corizon 0]

Camelot Station was rarely quiet. The Alexandria-class station sat astride what was quickly becoming a major trade route linking the Alpha Quadrant powers to the vast riches of the Gamma Quadrant, and was positioned metaphorically between two ancient empires caught in moments of transition, one wrapped in rebellions, while the other’s government struggled to keep itself from falling apart. In a landscape of twilight, it remained a bright light in the heavens – a lighthouse for those seeking refuge from the approaching stormy night.

 

Watching out his office window as cargo ships intermingled with warships from four different races, Captain Alexander Calypsos considered just how little of the place he understood, even after nearly a year of running the station. He’d came to the Gamma Quadrant with few illusions about the difficulty of what Starfleet had asked him to do as the station’s commanding officer –it was a dangerous place, and it was a dangerous job. Yet, somehow, he’d found the danger and the challenge of keeping the station out of trouble to be, perhaps, the most exciting and rewarding assignment he’d ever been given.

 

It was a job filled with a constantly changing landscape. Today, for example, the Olympia was set to return from an extended first contact mission with a race of, from what he could make out from their reports, were sentient cobra-like humanoids, complete with ‘hoods’ and ‘fangs,’ though thankfully no one had gotten bitten. Meanwhile, there was a cargo convoy arriving from Deep Space 9 and ultimately destined for Karema VII. On top of that, a Nausican freighter had accidently collided with a Klingon transport and both Captains were threatening blood oaths on the other – something would have to be done about that, he supposed. Then there was the problem of a certain caninoid currently on the mend in his sickbay.

 

From what he’d heard, the aforementioned Dameon was resting comfortably, and sedated after several major surgeries. The problem, of course, was going to be when they woke said Dameon and explaining to him that his ship had been temporarily assigned a new commanding officer and sent off on a mission that could last several weeks to several months. It was an unenviable task that he felt more aptly fell on Vice-Admiral Abronvonvich, but apparently the perks of the command included delegating unenviable tasks to others.

 

“Captain,” called a voice over the loud speakers. “Doctor Ha’Jolka is here to see you.”

 

He exhaled. No time like the present, he supposed. “Send her in.”

 

Turning to face the doors that led to command and control via a ramp, he smiled as the doors swooshed open and the cheery face of his chief medical officer filled the doorway. The Deltan walked with an easy grace as she entered more fully into the room. It occurred to Alexander that under different circumstances, he might ask her for a drink, or for dinner, or both, but he knew that such attachments were dangerous and he shoved the thoughts of spending time with Kael deep in the recesses of his mind.

 

“How’s everything down your way, Kael?”

 

She smiled and took a seat across from him. “The usual,” she said with easy patience. “The new round of marines we got last week all found out the hard way that we put warning labels on certain alien foods for a reason. A freighter from Molach III came in with eight sick-patients, all thinking they were dying.”

 

“Were they?”

 

Kael grinned slyly. “Well everyone’s dying, Captain.”

 

Alexander leaned back into his chair and chuckled. “That’s not a morbid way to look at life at all.”

 

“Humans,” she said smiling. “Your race would be the first to sign up for an immortality potion, wouldn’t you?”

 

“Most would, don’t know about myself.”

 

Before that particular philosophical conversation could maturate any further in his head – he was many things, but none of his friends or colleagues would ever accuse him of being a blowhard philosopher, he decided to move on. “How about Captain Corizon?”

 

Kael Ha’Jolka let her face drop for a moment before exhaling. “Doing better,” she finally said. “He suffered some pretty traumatic injuries – lacerated liver and kidneys, slight damage to his second heart, you don’t even want to know what we had to go through to replace his pancreatic system, not to mention getting enough of his blood type for transfusions…”

 

Alexander held up a gentle hand. “I… skimmed… the report…”

 

Relaxing with a small chuckle she nodded in understanding – few, if any, commanders cared for the gory details of medical and even fewer wanted to hear in-depth about any one particular case. “He’s recuperated to the point we’re ready to wake him, and if we don’t, I think his yeoman might just go crazy.”

 

“That little Xenexian thing that’s been bothering me since he got in.”

 

“Yes, the little Xenexian thing that’s been bothering me since he got in.”

 

Alexander smiled. “I suppose she would be more of a bother to you…”

 

“You have absolutely no idea.”

 

“Well, when do you want to wake the sleeping dog? I should be there when you do.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes, the Admiral, in his infinite command wisdom has decided he wants me to be the one to fill in some of the gaps, with you by my side, of course.”

 

You could almost feel the sarcasm oozing out of the Deltan’s words. “Lovely.”

 

As he was about to open his mouth to respond, another chime interrupted him and he apologetically held up a hand. “Go ahead.”

 

“Captain,” came the voice of Corris Sprint, the stations’ chief operations officer. “I have a call for you.”

 

“Well, put it through.”

 

There was a clear hesitation in Corris’ voice and both the Deltan and the human exchanged curious glances in response. “Perhaps… Captain you should take this alone.”

 

Alexander lifted his brows further. In the six-months or so that he’d known the operations officer, he’d never found him to be presumptive without a really good reason, and that worried him. “I see. Just a moment.”

 

She’d been in Starfleet for nearly seventeen years herself, and the Deltan doctor knew when it was time to make a graceful exit without having to be told. Already halfway to the door, she turned to nod at the Captain as she exited.

 

“Alright,” he finally said. “I am alone, now what is it?”

 

“Sorry to be so… presumptive, Captain, but I have Captain Varen on a secure line. He says its matter of Federation Security.”

 

How a mapping mission could turn into a matter of Federation security, Alexander wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know, but his instincts told him that a man as somber, sober, and serious as Irae Varen wouldn’t do this on a whim.

 

“Very well, put him through...”

 

A few short moments later and the wall panel adjacent to his desk came to life with a spinning Starfleet chevron as his console prompted him for security clearance. That detail completed, Varen’s face filled the screen.

 

“Captain…”