Roosevelt Station

CR-483

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Post 5 - A Nice Little Chat

Posted on Sat Jul 25th, 2020 @ 3:43am by Lieutenant Commander Michael Shinnick & Lieutenant Kroz, Son of T’Rok
Edited on on Sat Jul 25th, 2020 @ 8:53am

Mission: In the Shadow of Thanget
Location: USS Dreadnought, Deck 5 - Holodeck 3
Timeline: January 14, 2399 05:15 Hours

Thud! Thud! Thud! The sound of heavy footsteps echo down the empty corridor. The source of the noise was Lieutenant Michael Shinnick who was conducting his morning jog. He had chosen this corridor at this time as he was supposed to provide the most privacy possible aboard the vessel. Michael had conducted an hour long jog every morning at 0500 since his days at Starfleet Academy. Just like that first jog seventeen years ago, he was wearing his Academy shirt and a pair of shorts. These jogs gave him a sense of routine that was important to him. A routine that was shattered when he turned the corner and ran directly into a six foot four klingon.

The impact was sudden and forceful. Kroz found himself laying flat on the deck. He lifted himself up slowly onto his hands and knees. The sequence of events, that just occurred, went over and over in his still pain struck skull. His first clear thought was that he was furious at himself for letting this happen. He should have anticipated an opponent and dodged out of the way reducing the impact. This second thought was his frustration with not wearing his Klingon battle armor. This would have turned out much better if wearing all that protection. But, he had followed orders, even though he didn’t really want to, and had recently changed to wearing Starfleet authorized apparel. In this case, lightweight trousers, a short sleeve dark colored shirt, and athletic shows. The shoes, though comfortable, would never feel right to him. The third thought that went through his mind, as he pivoted up on his right knee and left foot, was I’m going to crush that ‘qlp petaQ’ that was in my way.

When Michael’s vision cleared, he saw an angry Klingon glaring at him. The man’s expression clearly signaled he wanted a fight. A fight that Michael would surely lose if he didn’t think fast. “ Kroz, Son of T’Rok, I challenge you to a duel on the holodeck. Do you accept or are you a coward?”

The words spoken to Kroz were taken as with authority and challenge, nothing to set aside or dismiss. Kroz was on both feet to confront the challenge head on when he realized who had spoken them. The warrior stopped with a stern expression. He had to quickly think through this. He had just assaulted a superior officer. He has now been challenged by that superior officer. By rights, he should allow the officer to punish him with pain sticks for this offense. But through the pain still in his skull, he saw through what might be considered a ruse to some or an honest challenge for respect.

Kroz stood tall and commanding. Well, as best he could do in lightweight pants and a skin tight shirt replying with firmness, but no malice, “I accept your challenge Commander.” But then a slight smile came to the corner of his mouth as he extended a hand toward the man, “But, let’s get you off the floor first.”

Michael smiled and grasped the offered hand. "Good idea Lieutenant."

...........

Minutes later, the duo were in the nearest holodeck in a program designated Personal Combat 201. This program had been designed to give officers an environment to test their martial arts skills in a recreation of a traditional Japanese dojo. The recreation was so accurate that one could even smell the incense burning at the altars that rimmed the combat space. Michael walked to the center of white mat that covered the floor and turned to face his opponent. "What is your weapon of choice?"

Kroz had followed the Commander out onto the center of the mat keeping a full span distance. He admired the surroundings of the program. He had experienced just a little of the oriental traditions and customs of Earth. He admired their formality and respecting of elders and those of experience. He also admired the expanse of weapons used by this race over the centuries. He was familiar with some, but not all. In response Kroz replied with the question, “Energy or hand to hand?”

Actually at that moment, Kroz’ gut reaction was to attack providing him the advantage. He knew he could spring up and forward with little notice. His kick would land on his opponent center chest, knocking them back several meters. He had done it before . . , but this was a Commander in Starfleet, who would not have challenged a Klingon Warrior without having some superior knowledge or talent. So, . . it was tactically better to wait.

"Hand to hand is the only way to ensure two combatants are on an even field." Michael smirked at Kroz, "You wouldn't take advantage of me would you?"

Kroz wanted to smile, but kept a straight face as he responded, “If I wanted to kill you, . . yes.” He let that jesting comment support the air for a moment before adding, “I would choose a Mek’leth.” A slight smile leaked to his face, but forced it away. Kroz knew that the next few seconds were more important than all the actual fighting that they would be doing. He was trained to know that observing of intentions and motivations were just as valued as the actual battle itself, especially when one-on-one.

"Computer, one Mek’leth and one shillelagh." With those words, a two podiums brandishing a weapon each materialized. Michael took the Klingon weapon in his had first, "A fine weapon Lieutenant. Truly worthy of your people." The human tossed the weapon to his guest before turning to his own. “What do you know of Human genealogy?” asked Michael as he tenderly stroked the cudgel.

Kroz caught the Mek’leth easily, spinning it about with his wrist, bringing it to a secured location behind his back, and then spinning it out again to hold it before him in a low position. He raised an eyebrow toward the commander and his question. “Genealogy has it’s merits.” But chose to not answer the question. He then considered the Commander’s choice. As he recalled the item was some kind of cane with a ball or heavy end, which is what he saw on the podium, good for blocking and landing a significant blow if able to swing it, the force of impact could be quite deadly.

“I am descended from a group of people known as the Celts. They were a warrior people who used this”, Michael pauses to pick up the club and flick his wrist to begin swinging the weapon in a figure eight pattern. Soon his whole arm was directing the graceful dance as it grew faster and faster. “Used this to fight their honor duels for thousands of years. Men tested themselves on even ground. That way they could see where each-other stood. Let’s see where you stand!!!!” As he spoke those last words, Michael spun around and brought the shillelagh down from the height of its arc towards the Klingon’s right shoulder.

The Klingon watched as the Commander spun the club about. Kroz took a half step back in a defensive pose with his weapon slowly moved to a ready position. He felt that this might be a demonstration for him, but it also might be something more. At the last second, seeing the the club coming down, Kroz stepped to the side and swung the Mek’leth toward the club to block and divert the blow. The counter strike was solid, but only diverted the blow, barely missing him. Kroz counter with a slash toward the Commander’s chest, but was only a move for him to take a step back.

Michael instinctually jumped backwards while swinging his weapon upwards from the ground. While the move may have seemed fast to the observer, the long tear in the fabric across Michael's chest testified that it was barely enough. He knew that the Klingon had the height and weight advantage over him but now he worried that he was quicker too.

It now seemed to Kroz that they were both ready. As they faced each other and walked about, Kroz felt that he had the advantage of height and reach, yet the Commander could at any time compensate with a blow from the extended club. He watched intently how the club was moved about, looking for the moment to strike. At the right moment a direct thrust was made to his opponent.

Michael twisted away from the trust and was rewarded with only a deep gash in his arm instead of a serious injury. Thankfully, he was able to transfer the momentum of his evasive maneuver into a powerful strike at back of his opponents lower leg.

His thrust did well, but the Commander had struck well too. Kroz felt a fierce pain in his calf. He wanted to buckle down, but chose to tuck his left shoulder and roll away, coming back to his feet, though a bit unsteady with his blade at the ready.

Michael took a moment to reassess the situation. While yes he has managed to strike a decent blow on the last exchange, it had cost him two potentially serious strikes. He wondered not for the first time if he was sure on what he was doing. It was too late to back down now, so he decided to press the attack. He charged directly at Kroz with his weapon in constant motion. He faked an attack to the Klingon's right side, then committed another feint to the left should, before finishing with a true attack to the Klingon's now weakened leg.

Kroz waited for the next move, flexing his calf slightly during the long seconds. The attack was strong, while the fake was expected, the second wasn’t and the strike to his leg unguarded. The Klingon growled in pain and it took his entire will to not let his anger control him. He knew he had to get inside for a good strike. Kroz flipped the Mek’leth in his hand, now with the blade back in a protective mode. He lunged forward and up with his weapon toward the opposite shoulder. He actually anticipated this would be blocked.

Michael did indeed block the blow, but its power was more than he expected and he dropped to one knee while a centimetre of the blade dug in his shoulder. His pained grimace transformed into a mischievous smirk as he spat out the words that would play his last card. "Computer, deactivate gravity."

Kroz was ready with a backward jab thrust into his opponent’s back, but just a bit to late, for the Commander had the upper hand, deactivating the gravity. Because of his own upward lunge of his arm and the gravity going out, his forward momentum lifted his entire body from the deck. Kroz had had some combat tactics training in no and low gravity situations, but not much. It had mostly been academic. He knew his best advantage was the mass of the blade in his hand. As he rose toward the roof, he spun the weapon hand back, which caused his body to spin and follow in the, so that he could face his opponent. To stop the spin he moved his arm back the other direction proportionally. “You are a very creative opponent.”

As the loss of gravity allowed Michael's feet to leave the ground, so did it allow the blood from his shoulder float towards the ceiling. Michael felt his focus slowly slip away with every drop of his life force. "Thank you, but you have seen nothing yet." With the last bit of his strength, Michael pushed against the ground with his shillelagh and propelled himself at his opponent. He would be at the edge of his weapon's reach when he spoke again. "Computer, reactivate gravity now!" Michael swung for the fences as the last word left his lips.

Kroz could see his opponent launch himself, thinking quickly of the possible attacks that might come his way. But, the reactivation of the gravity was not one of them. He was more or less with head angled down and feet near the ceiling. He had to be more concerned about his impact with the mat below and not the attacker. He spun the Mek’leth one more time at full length, which should cause his body to spin and hopefully enough for his back to impact the mat and not his shoulder.

Michael's wild swing completely missed and sent him spinning as he began to fall. By the time he came to face Kroz again, he felt the larger man's frame come crashing down into his. His breathe instantly leaving his body was not of any concern to him. What was the concern was the fact that the deck was coming up to greet him fast. And greet him it did, with a immensely hard impact that fractured two ribs and had him fighting to remain conscious. All Michael could do was let out a pained laugh. "I assume your honor has been satisfied."

The impact of Kroz’ back hitting the mat knocked the breath from him, including the weapon from his hand. He also heard the impact of the Commander hitting the mat very close by. Kroz wasn’t sure if the match was still continuing, but he rolled over to his hands and knees taking in a deep breath in the process. He saw his opponent in an awkward position. The tone of the Commander’s comment meant to him that this match had ended, and Kroz was glad for that as well. There were several humorous responses on his mind, but he simply replied, “Yes Commander, . . and a good lesson as well.” He observed the Commander’s condition as he slowly stood and commented, “I think it best that I assist you to Medical.” Kroz was unsure of the man’s condition, but he definitely could get a little relief himself. He had learned from humans that being too prideful was sometimes useless arrogance.

Michael attempted to rise up and argue, but he made it to one knee before he collapsed from the mixture of pain and exhaustion. "Fine, we'll go see a doc. But you're buying drinks afterwards."

Kroz took a step toward the Commander and extended a helping hand, “Agreed.”

 

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