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Cptn Corizon

Click, Click... Who's There? Diplomatic Disaster. Diplomatic Disaster who?

Corizon glanced at the response to his inquiry to Camelot Station with a frown.

 

“Full diplomatic courtesy,” he scoffed. “I suppose they’ll want me to feed them… what do Scorpiads eat anyway?”

 

Looking up from their stack of PADDs, both yeoman glanced to each other for a few long moments, unsure if the Captain wanted a response and if he did, how to respond. The spunkier of the two decided to try her hand – after all she had fed, on rare occasion, the orange thing that the green thing kept.

 

“Well insects I suppose... C’rk’ts maybe,” Odile said in heavily accented standard, before stopping to rub at her chin and twirl a lock of hair. “Though it would take a lot of c’rk’ts to feed something as big as those things.”

 

Corizon looked over in a bemused smirk, that Odile took to mean he was proud of her. Augustus giggled and glanced over. “I think they eat small lizards too.”

 

“Lizards are tasty,” Odile said, fondly remembering what passed for Xenexian BBQ.

 

“Maybe you can swap recipes with their cook.”

 

Odile flashed a sort of horrified look at the fanged Captain before regaining her composure. “Only if I can take Knife with me, they’re um… large and have… stingy things.”

 

“Stingy things?”

 

Odile nodded and nudged Augustus to back her up.

 

“Oh what am I going to do when they reassign you two.”

 

“I wouldn’t willing leave your side Captain,” Odile exclaimed proudly. “Really I wouldn’t.”

 

The silver-eyed half-Morian also nodded. “I prefer to stay as far out of my mother’s grasp as possible.”

 

Corizon snorted at both of them before looking at his chrono. “Well I need to be going, wouldn’t want to keep the Commandant waiting.”

 

----

 

The room was more humid than he'd expected, and it took him a few moments to adjust to that and the lower lighting. He recalled, briefly, the experience on the Scorpiad fighter with a myriad of feelings before stowing them away behind a neutral facade.

 

“Thank you for coming Captain,” G’Lan said. “I am sure this can’t be easy for you.”

 

“That is a mild understatement,” Corizon said honestly. “I am not someone who dances around a subject long.”

 

“Good, Scorpiads aren’t… very good dancers.”

 

“With all those legs, I am kind of surprised.”

 

The Scorpiad clicked out what sounded like laughter and waved Corizon into the sitting area with one of his claws. Still using his cane, Corizon made his way to one of the chairs, but didn’t sit.

 

“I’ve been in contact with my superiors,” Corizon said. “They’ve instructed me to show you full diplomatic courtesy.”

 

“Thank you,” he said. “Your people have been most helpful, and I must say, your guests have a wide-range of amenities at their disposal.”

 

“We try to be gracious hosts.”

 

“Well, so far you have lived up to that.”

 

“Speaking of which,” Corizon said with a heavy sigh. “Your… prisoners…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I’ve been instructed to hold them for now, however, they will be treated as we treat our prisoners – properly fed and cared for in a manner consistent with our laws and regulations.”

 

“As you wish,” G’Lan said. “Though I will warn you Captain, they are not people to turn your back on, but you know that don’t you, Captain?”

 

The Dameon leaned on his cane and lifted an ear. “Hmm.”

 

“You’ve been marked by them – you were their prisoner once?”

 

It had been over three years since he’d been captured by Victria during the Morningstar’s first contact with the Al-Ucard, confused for a Lucam. The thought of being tethered to a wall by organic bindings sent a shiver down his back and it took him a few moments to push the memory back into his sub-conscious.

 

“Yes, but… how do you know that?”

 

The gold and black body of the Scorpiad glinted in the low light as he moved towards the window, and motioned towards a distant star. “Their technologies remained based on our own technology. The bindings that held you leave a specific marker that is detectable to… those of our making and our technology.”

 

“I see, well that was a long time ago.”

 

“I suppose for someone with a short life-time,” the Scorpiad said, thoughtfully. If he meant it as an insult it wasn’t apparent.

 

“Time is relative.”

 

“Yes, I suppose it is. It is a shame that our time together will be short, I know that you cannot be happy about this, but perhaps we can learn something of each other, yes?”

 

Corizon’s ears dropped to either side. It had occurred to him that, despite nearly three years of contact and a war, Starfleet and the Scorpiad had very little direct interaction that didn’t involve people shooting at each other. Part of him wanted to embrace the offer from G’Lan, afterall that was what Starfleet was here for, wasn’t it? But another, darker, part of him recoiled at the thought.

 

“Yes,” Corizon finally answered despite his internal conflictions. “Too much blood and not enough information has passed between our peoples.”

 

The Scorpiad clicked in agreement. “If it would be permissible, Captain, I would like to speak with my government and confirm with our liaison at Camelot when a suitable transport will be arriving.”

 

“Of course, I’ll have my operations officer set you up a secure link.”

 

“My thanks.”

 

“Oh, before I forget,” Corizon said, as if he would forget anything. “My government has asked me to gather some information from you about the… the prisoners.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“If you can, we’d like to know a little more about what charges are being brought against them and frankly what sort of due process measures are being followed.”

 

The Androcot Scorpiad compressed his body, allowing a hiss to escape. Corizon couldn’t tell if that meant he was annoyed, angry, or simply hesitant. The fact that his caudia and the stinger attached to it remained well out of strike position seemed to confirm the latter of the three.

 

Finally, after working his chelicerae for what seemed an eternity, the Scorpiad clicked up. “ They are terrorists Captain. They have been charged with various crimes ranging from conspiracy to commit murder to treason against the Imperial Crown of the Scorpiad Empire. “

 

“Ah, and the due process part?”

 

“We do not follow a strict… judicial procedure as you might understand it, Captain. They are members of the fourth rung. They have been charged and found guilty, sentencing is a mere formality, but will occur in due time.”

 

“The fourth rung?”

 

“Yes, the fourth rung. The highest rung in Scorpiad society open to non-Scorpiads.”

 

“I see, so somewhere above slave, but not so much that they have any real rights?”

 

“Yes,” G’Lan said with a wave of a hand like appendage. “Captain I know you don’t approve of any of this, it doesn’t take a telepath to read that in your … vibrations, but this is how our empire has survived for hundreds of thousands of years.”

 

Corizon didn’t respond verbally, but nodded.

 

“Captain they are like children who have lost their way, trying to rebel against their parents authority. We’re simply… bringing them to heel and reminding them that we are their creators and masters. We merely ask for their obedience, but yet they continue to defy us. Surely you can understand why we’re forced to be so… harsh?”

 

“Well, if my parents abandoned me for the better part of my existence and suddenly showed up, I might be a little wary of being put back under their… guidance.”

 

G’Lan reflexively recoiled, but avoided entering a threat pose only by sheer will. After a few moments he relaxed again. “Well, you weren’t lying when you said you were direct.”

 

“No one’s ever accused me of being diplomatic.”

 

“A quality I admire, to be honest myself.”

 

Corizon lifted an ear but let the comment pass. “Well Commandant, I won’t keep you any longer, I am sure your tired and will be wanting to speak to your government.”

 

“Thank you,” he said. “Perhaps we can meet again once I’ve had a chance to do that?”

 

“Sure, I’ll have my yeoman contact you to schedule it.”

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