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Cptn Corizon

Twelve Hours

Part I


The Shuttle bay was a conundrum of confused officers. A few moments ago, they’d all been aboard the darkened and dead Excalibur getting ready to leave her behind, and now they found themselves in the belly of a Federation vessel that had whisked them out of the hands of fate. Even to the most settled officer, such a transition was disconcerting. Ah-Windu was no different. While he was personally relieved that they’d been rescued, now he’d have to explain why they had to be rescued, and what happened to the Away Team…exactly his idea of a First Mission…lose an AT and the Ship!


He sighed to himself. The Admiral had already retired to his quarters with Yeoman Perfect and Corizon had been left behind to make sure the crew got squared away. A young Ensign whose name eluded Corizon at the moment and most likely he’d never remember it anyway…was getting the crew all set up with food, treatment for the wounded and someplace to congregate while they made the trip back to Camelot.


Corizon surveyed the scene. Later, he told himself, he’d have to speak with Xavier and the Engineering staff. They’d done a great job under the circumstances. At the moment he wanted to be anywhere but this room. He called over one of the Morningstar crew—you could tell them from the Excalibur because they were the ones without charred uniforms.


“Which way to the mess hall?”


“Deck seven sir,” the young human said. “I can give you an escort if you wish.”


“I can find my way there,” Corizon waved his hand dismissively.




Corizon sat stiffly in the Mess Hall of the Morningstar, a large room that was meant for crew wide eating...this had to be one of the oddest Intrepid-class vessels he'd ever been on. In front of him were a set of padds that he kept going back and forth on.


Kennin stalked into the Mess Hall, heading straight for the replicator. "Coffee, black," he barked at the machine, which hummed obediently. Picking up the cup, his eyes closed briefly as the aroma teased his nose, and he sipped carefully. His black mood fell away somewhat, and he glanced around the mostly-empty room. "Commander," he nodded with stiff politeness to the man seated nearby.


Corizon looked up, ears lying to either side. "Commander," he replied in a tone of forced pleasantness.


The scent of the warm beverage had already caught Corizon's attention, long before the voice. He didn't recognize the officer speaking to him, which meant he was part of the crew of the Morningstar. The Ensign he'd spoken to after they'd been transported to the Morningstar had been fairly vague with details of the command structure...which he found slightly disconcerting that who ever commanded this boat hadn't bothered to stop by yet...this combined with his displeasure had put the Dameon in an all to obvious sour mood.


Leaning against the wall, Kennin sipped his coffee again. "So, you must be the fellow who got that hulk we're hauling scrapped."


Corizon's steely yellow eyes narrowed and his ears moved backwards. "Yea...you could say that."


He went back to working on the PADDs.


"Sure did a number on it." Kennin smirked slightly. "If they can salvage it for scrap it'll be a miracle. Didn't I hear the Admiral say this was your first time out on her?"


Lifting his head and turning to face Kennin, "Yeah...not something I am exactly proud to have on my record."


"Not to mention that three of my senior officers may have been killed," the last words almost emotive, but still in check.


Kennin felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. He hadn't intended to drag a fellow officer down, but he was feeling restless and edgy with no way to relieve it. There were strangers roaming his ship, poking at the consoles, toying with the systems. There was an Admiral he'd met a scant handful of hours ago commanding this half-assed mission. A mission that was supposed to have been his shining moment, proving the Morningstar was everything promised and more.


Still, he knew about loss. So, somewhat awkwardly, he offered, "Sorry," and settled at the table with his coffee.


Curious as to the edginess of the officer in front of him, Corizon laid the PADD down in front of him. "And what was your name again?"


"Kennin. Thomas Kennin." Instinct made him want to offer a hand, but something held him back. His fingers twitched where they cradled the coffee mug.


Corizon nodded, "Ah-Windu Corizon," he made a gesture towards the red undershirt of Kennin's with a claw tipped finger. "Second Officer...helmsman?"


He stiffened, drawing himself straighter in the chair. "Morningstar is my ship," he answered proudly.


"Oh..." Corizon was a bit surprised, and while normally he could easily hide such simple reactions, his level of control was slipping under this duress. "A Lt. Commander in charge of an Intrepid-Class?" He paused for a moment then added, "No offense of course..."


"I helped design the Morningstar," Kennin answered tightly. He took another sip, trying to control his temper. "This is -- was supposed to be -- her test flight."


"Ahh..." Corizon said. He really didn't care if he upset Kennin or not. "Well then...I suppose you can explain this Messhall?"


Kennin blinked, his eyes flitting quickly around the large room. "It's... a pretty standard Mess Hall."


"For a warship."


"That is the Morningstar's function. She was designed during the war."


"Interesting....an Intrepid-class warship." He'd never heard of the Morningstar, and at the moment it was something to get his attention away from the cold reality in the PADDs. "I suppose that would explain the huge shuttle bay?"


Kennin sipped his coffee, relaxing a little. Talking about his work was good. Maybe they'd hurry up and let him get back to it. "Fighter bay, actually. We've got about twenty short-range fighter craft and a few assault landers."


"About time Fleet started giving vessels Fighters," Corizon smirked every so slightly. "I worked in tactical planning during the Dominion War."


"So...just in town for some testing...I am assuming this is still a 'prototype'?"

Kennin flipped a hand dismissively. "Oh, technically. She's ready though, I can tell you. But you know Starfleet likes to have seventeen thousand reports filed on the condition of every iso chip before they'll sign off on a ship."


Corizon relaxed slightly and took a drink of his own beverage, it was a slightly sweetened coffee from Earth. "Worked on Earth for about 25 years...yeah...I know the feeling."


The conversation lapsed for a moments until Corizon spoke. "I want to thank you for being so kind to my crew. I know it's an inconvenient thing to have a couple hundred people in your shuttle…fighter bay. Thank the One it's only a five hour trip back to Avalon."


The last of his annoyance evaporated. "Oh. Well. Of course. All part of the service, you know... We'll have you home in no time."


He let that thought simmer a moment. "My crew.."


"You know what the sad part of this is," he said putting the mug down.

Kennin's eyebrows rose. He waited expectantly.


"I've been here less than two days and already I've blown up the ship."

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Part II


It wasn’t until Morningstar docked with the station sometime later that Corizon finally relaxed. The Admiral had barely spoken to him since they’d arrived, not that Corizon blamed him, after all he’d managed to lose three of his senior officers and his ship—not exactly the best way to grow a relationship between Executive and Commanding Officer.


Excalibur had been towed into one of the dry-dock berths on Camelot for damage assessment, something that wasn’t promising. For the time being, they’d given the crew leave suggesting they begin transferring their belongings off the Excalibur and into temporary quarters on Camelot.


With the damage assessment completed and a transmission from DS-9 coming a few hours after the arrival back at Camelot, Admiral Day had scheduled a meeting of the Senior Staff of Excalibur. Not something Corizon particularly looked forward too, but nonetheless he’d be there.




In the Romulan section of Camelot, Ambassador N’Kedre mulled over the transmission she’d received from t-Rogora…it explained why the Excalibur had been drug in looking like a floating hunk of junk. It also put her in a very difficult situation—one she’d hoped not to be in.

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Part III, or "They want to do What?"


Admiral Quan stood in his spacious office at the Antares Shipyards, eyeing the young officer before him. “They want us to do what?”




“Spit it out,” the tall slender Orion barked.


“Well Fleet HQ wants us to send a tug and bring her back here and see if we can do anything with it, if not…we’re to scrap it.”


Quan stroked his non-existent beard. “Like I have nothing better to do than nurse some hunk of junk that some moron screwed up…”


The young officer decided it was a rhetorical question and only sighed. Quan sighed shortly after. “Go ahead and get the tug ready, then get going. I’ll start the paperwork and contact Admiral Day.”




Captain Skully glared at the screen in disbelief. “You want to do what??”


“We’ll be reassigning her to Camelot,” a gruff voice said over the comm.


“Under whose command?”


“Day and Corizon’s of course.”


“You mean your handing over our baby to the same to people who just completely trashed a Soverign-class?” Skully’s response was more of shock and disbelief than anything else. “With all do respect Admiral Puckett…”


“Now, now Captain,” Puckett said reassuringly. “I am sure they’ll take better care of this one. Besides it will be a good opportunity to see what she’s really made of.”


“Kennin will have a fit.”


“I am sure he will,” Puckett said smirking. “That’s why we want him to stay on while it’s loaned to them.”


“I want to be the one to tell him.”


“Be my guest.”


“Thank you.”


“Now if you’ll excuse me Captain,” Puckett said changing gears. “I have a call to make to Antares.”


“Of Course sir,” Skully said with a nod.


When the screen finally went blank, Skully just sat looking at the monitor. He was in disbelief that Fleet was taking the Morningstar out of their hands and handing it over to that duo. It wasn’t just that he and Kennin had gotten passed over for Command of the vessel they’d spent more than seven years working on…but it was that his baby might get hurt.


He sighed deeply and began tapping up a message to his longtime friend Kennin. He could hear him now….


“They’re doing what?!?”

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Part IV


Lt. Commander Blix stood on the observation deck of the drydock holding the Excalibur. What a mess. He’d seen worse of course, during the war…but this was crazy. The Romulans…and Commander Corizon had done one heck of a job on this one.


He sighed and raised the PADD hanging in his hand to reading level and tapped a few more things on it. The last two hours of his life had been spent inspecting both visually and physically the damage done to Excalibur. It seemed that the list was growing longer and longer.


“This will take us weeks to fix…”


A voice came from behind him. He turned to see who was speaking to him, it was part of his team…a Lieutenant Gary. “More like months…we’d have to completely refit the dorsal hull…not to mention replace the entire EPS system…”


“Well,” Gary said. “We’ll know the insides of a Sovvy like the back of our hands.”


Blix shook his head, “Not if I can help it.”




“I am going to advise Captain Sorehl and Admiral Day that they send Excalibur somewhere else for work, we can’t waste our space with this thing…we have an entire fleet to service.”


Gary lowered his head. “I guess so. I just hate to see her go…she was quite the looker.”


Blix smirked. “Wouldn’t know that now…”


Gary laughed lightly. “Your going to have to tell that new Commander to give us a break…if this was his first mission…just imagine the next time he takes a ship out.”


Blix groaned.

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Part V


With thanks to SG Tom Kennin


"They're doing what?!?"


"I knew you would say that," Skully sighed.


Kennin glared at the man on the monitor. "They can't," he said desperately. "She's not done with her trials yet."


Skully looked no happier than he felt. "They know she's spaceworthy. And Camelot needs a ship - there's no way the Excalibur is going to be useful again any time soon."


Grumbling something he hoped wouldn't be picked up by the comm system, Kennin nodded, beginning to resign himself to losing his baby. "It's funny they should assign her - I was just saying that Starfleet is overly fond of paper-"


There was a pause as Kennin replayed that conversation in his head. Finally Skully's patience ran thin, however. "Tom? You in there?"


He snapped back to the present abruptly. "They can't, Alex! That… that madman of a commander trashed the Excalibur on his first mission out! The Morningstar's a prototype; if we lose her we've lost years of work. She can't possibly be trusted to these gung-ho frontiersmen!"


Skully held up a hand. "Easy, Tom. No one's asking you to abandon her. They want you to stay there for as long as she's assigned to Camelot."


Kennin blinked, effectively derailed. "S-stay? Here? Me?" His jaw hung slack, while Skully nodded, smiling as though he was offering a gift. "But - they'll hate me, Alex! No one likes an outsider."


"It'll be fine," the captain assured him. "You'll just be their… resident expert on Morningstar. Think how much the engineers will love you." He glanced off-screen for a moment, nodded, then turned back. "I've got to go, Kennin. Take good care of our baby." The screen blinked back to the ubiquitous UFP logo.


Lt. Cdr. Thomas Kennin slumped in his chair, envisioning the reactions of the Camelot command staff to his new orders.


"You want him to do what?"

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