Warrior's Mess (Part 9 of 10)

Posted on 30 Apr 2015 @ 7:08pm by Rear Admiral Lirha Saalm & Commander Norvi Stace & Captain Jonathan Holliday & Crewman Apprentice Sigrid Thelin & Lieutenant JG Emmarie (E'Ma'ri) & Commander Luke Wyatt & Senior Chief Petty Officer Keval zh'Erinov

2,362 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Episode 08 - NIMBUS
Location: IKS CharghwI' - Deck 18, Dining Hall
Timeline: MD 02 - 0015 hrs

Previously, on Warrior's Mess (Part 8)...

Suddenly in a whirl of blond curls, squeals and colourful manicured nails, Sigrid came flying through the air just missing Luke. She hit the floor and skidded across on her stomach coming to a stop right at Stace's feet. She rolled onto her back and peered up at the Trill woman with a look of pain. She'd received a small cut to her lip when she hit the floor, but Sigrid attempted to smile through it. "I fink I bit muh tongue." She said somewhat happily.

And Now, the Continuation...

[ON]

Stace chuckled a little at the huddled, blonde mess that was crumpled at her feet. She pointed to the gash on her forehead and with a bright, light expression said, "Think yourself lucky. I now have to sit at a dinner table beside the captain and the admiral looking that I've just been dragged through a hedge backwards." She again tried to pull the messy strands of hair back into her ponytail but without success.

Sigrid spun on to her stomach and pushed her self up on to her feet. She ran her hands through her blond curls to make them less disheveled. She plucked a small mirror out from her jacket pocket to inspect her lip. Her eyes darted to the gash on Stace's forehead. "I can fix that, commander. Right after I finish flirting with Gerk." Her eyes returned to the mirror where it was now clear she was using it to watch the Klingon, Gerk, come marching towards where he'd thrown Sigrid. "I'm going to duck and grab his legs, you give him a good whack." Suddenly Sigrid dropped down, spun, and in a great Vegan Nordic style bear hug she wrapped her arms around Gerk's legs.

Stace almost scoffed and then grunted a sigh. In truth she had hoped that her physical jostling was over and that the pain in her chest was to be her only injury, but thanks to Sigrid this was not to be. With Gerk's legs now ringed by the blonde astronomer, the Trill took a step back and then launched herself into the chest of the Klingon, bringing him down and landing on top of him. The impact shocked her chest as a pang of pain ripped through her. Winded, she rolled off but then quickly caught her breath.

"All yours, Sigrid," Stace laughed, getting to her feet. "Flirt away!"

With a wicked and mischievous grin, she waited till Stace had removed her self, and just as the Klingon was starting to stand Sigrid let out a norse battle cry as she jumped and landed on the warrior with both her knees. "Aiiiiiii ya!" she screamed.

The challenge area was certainly more active than the drinking area, and Emmarie grabbed a bat'leth quickly, aiming to find a sparring partner. Though she hadn't been raised among her own people, the Orions had once called the Klingon Empire home. As a result, she had done her best to pick up some skills. She twirled the bat'leth about with ease, her eyes moving around the room as she looked for a good sparring partner.

A Klingon woman approached her after a few minutes, and they exchanged a couple of barbs between themselves. Emmarie experimentally moved her legs around a bit, seeing if she had the sort of mobility necessary to actually engage in any sort of fighting. It wasn't ideal, but it was doable, and the woman before her was rather insistent that if Emmarie was holding a bat'leth, she needed to fight. Though Emmarie had been hesitant to fight the Klingons, her superior strength would make it difficult for any of the Starfleet crew members to present a challenge, save a few. Besides, this will help.

Accepting the Klingon's challenge, Emmarie and the Klingon woman made their way to an area where there was still some room, and began circling each other carefully. Clad in a silk shirt and look skirt, Emmarie had little protection to speak of. She crouched down as she circled her opponent, eyes taking in as much information as she could. Like Emmarie, her dominant hand was her left, though Emmarie wondered if the Klingon had been born that way, as there was significant scarring on her right hand. Her right cheek bore scars as well, which opened the possibility that her vision wasn't nearly as good on that side.

Not wishing to dawdle much longer and look a fool, Emmarie dropped back a hair, seeing if the weakness she suspected existed. She lunged at the other woman's right side, only to meet her bat'leth. Not blinded, or gifted hearing, Emmarie noted. She crouched deeper to present a smaller target, and considered her next attack.

The Klingon, on the other hand, was having none of that. She whirled about, lashing out with several alternating strikes. She was testing Emmarie's bat'leth control, and fortunately, Emmarie wasn't entirely unskilled in that area. As she blocked blow after blow, she began to get confident. She was quickly rebuked, however, as the Klingon lashed out with a booted foot, striking Emmarie in the midsection.

She fell backwards, then momentum pushed her back another few feet. Emmarie forced herself to maintain control of the bat'leth, and to keep breathing. Still her sides hurt, and her emotional control was compromised. Jumping to her feet again, she glared at the Klingon. Fortunately looks couldn't kill, but Emmarie was in motion. No longer content to be in defensive mode, she threw herself at her opponent, with loud expletives in between contacts.

M' Tar was surprised by the Orion's aggressiveness, though later she would not even admit this to herself. She met the flurry of thrusts and swings blocking them with her own bat'leth, but just barely. "You are worthy," she retorted before launching a series of counterattacks designed to test her opponent more than to actually get through Emmarie's defenses.

It had been several months since Emmarie had dabbled in any form of combat, yet as her opponent countered her, she found her muscle memory still remembered the moves she'd learned at the Academy. "As are you," she replied, though she wasn't quite certain that politeness had any place within Klingon society. Still, wasn't the acknowledgment the honorable thing to do?

As she accepted M'Tar's blows, Emmarie watched carefully, noting what side she favored, and how her feet moved. Emmarie herself had been a dancer since childhood, and the footwork of fighting had come rather easily to her. She wagered that she and the Klingon were likely rather closely matched, and that she wouldn't win with strength the way she could with a human sparring partner. Instead, finesse and footwork would be her advantages.

She parried several of the blows, then began to side-step in an attempt to circle M' Tar. Let's see what you've really got, she thought, pride recovered from her earlier awkwardness.

The Orion in front of her was good, M'tar recognized that, even recognized what she was doing. She countered by moving with her and once again trying to sneak through her defenses. She realized that she was having to back up in order to avoid the new attacks and resolved to hold her ground, she was dangerously close to a corner that she didn't want to be pushed into.

Emmarie saw M'Tar's struggle to maintain her ground, and a certain smugness surged within her. She delivered a few lower blows with her bat'leth, a gesture that was designed to bide a bit of time, and lull her opponent into a sense of false security. Once that had been achieved, she could employ some careful misdirection.

Though M' Tar was trying her best not to move, Emmarie weaved in front of her. She positioned her hips perpendicular to M'Tar's, carefully balancing her weight. Then, out of the blue, she brought her blade up fast to make a downward strike. At the same time she lashed out with her rear leg, hoping to make contact that would drive her opponent backwards.

The Klingon was able to block Emmarie's attempted strike by bringing up her own blade, deflecting it away from her. However she had not anticipated her other attack and although she avoided the contact she was nevertheless pushed back, giving ground she could I'll afford to lose.

Emmarie leapt forward once more, eager to take advantage of any ground she could make. She channeled months of pent-up rage into her attacks, finding strength that was ordinarily unavailable to her. She kept striking over and over, grunting and shouting the whole time.

Something akin to fear showed in M' tar's eyes. She had been expecting sport, a sparing match, a bit of fun, but the Orion woman in front of her seemed to be taking this all too seriously. It looked as if she had lost control.

But M' tar was Klingon damnit and Klingons didn't surrender, if this Fleeter wanted a real fight then she would ensure she got one. Drawing from her own anger and bit of survival instinct she threw away all pretense pushed back against the wall and began to attack in earnest with a series of sweeps and jabs.

Emmarie shifted her weight backwards, squatting a bit deeper to ensure her balance was maintained. She took M'Tar's blows, growling back at the other woman each time their bat'leth's met. They were closely matched, and she realized that she'd likely need to tire M'Tar out, for she wasn't sure she'd get another sneaky move like that kick in.

"Is that the best you've got?" she goaded, brow furrowing in determination. Sure, this woman was a Klingon, but Emmarie had practiced for many years, ever since she was in the Academy. She knew she could find some way to win.

M'Tar feinted a blow to Emmarie's left torso, pulled back slight then aimed a blow to where she had just feinted.

Lacking a better option, Emmarie jumped backwards. Losing her footing, she fell hard on her backside, barely getting her bat'leth up in time to block any additional incoming strikes. Her mind moved quickly, seeking a quick way out of her present predicament. Pushing back with her legs, she performed a reverse somersault, gouging the side of her face with the bat'leth in the process. She felt hot blood drip down onto her clothes.

Oh HELL no she thought, any idea of "pacing" gone. Her efforts spurned on by pain and rage, she lashed out repeatedly with her bat'leth once more. Now, she wasn't content merely to disable. She was out for blood.

Things were quickly escalating out of control. What had started out as a friendly sparring match had quickly disintegrated into something far more dangerous that threatened lives. The sane thing of course would have been to call for help, or try to shout at the Orion to get her back out of the zone and into reality. If she'd been human that was exactly what M' Tar would have done, but she was not Human, she was Klingons and if the Orion bitch wanted to have a real fight then who was she to argue.

She did manage to block most of the attacks, but she found herself cut in several places. Long, sometimes deep gashes. She would feel the pain later, but now all she felt was blood lust and she launched a new series of blows designed to end the fight quickly and prematurely.

Lirha had viewed the sparring from afar for several long minutes while wondering if it was a prudent idea for her Starfleet crews to be engaging in physical combat with the Klingons. No doubt several injuries would take place during the even if they hadn't already, and she wanted all of her personnel to be in the best shape possible when the time for the war games occurred tomorrow. But at the same time, she noticed everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves...albeit in a strange, testosterone fashion. Even some of the women, as well.

As such, the rear admiral casually strolled over to the challenge area with her third mug of bloodwine in hand, and began to observe the combat now taking place.

Luke sat down after a Klingon medic looked over him, he had been patched up well but blood and bruises still criss-crossed his body. Watching the Admiral walk over to the combat area he smiled, "Come to watch the fighting Admiral?" He asked as a ensign brought over a fresh shirt for him, something which he hadn't asked for.

To Be Continued...

[OFF]

--

RADM Lirha Saalm
Commanding Officer
USS Atlas

CAPT Jonathan Holliday
Commanding Officer
USS Chronos

Ensign T'Vanna Murray
Chief of Operations
USS Aventia

Lieutenant j.g. Naois Mercy
Chief Medical Officer
USS Nautilus
[PNPC T'Vanna]

CPO Tyrion Faye
Intelligence Officer
USS Galileo
[PNPC T'Vanna]

Cadet SO Wintrow Paragon
Helmsman
USS Galileo
[PNPC T'Vanna]

Lieutenant JG Drusilla McCarthy
Assistant Chief Counsellor
USS Galileo

Lieutenant (JG) Tuula Voutilainen
Medical Officer
USS Galileo

Ensign K'os Beaumont
Assistant Chief Engineering Officer
USS Galileo

Lieutenant Commander Andreus Kohl
Executive Officer
USS Nautilus

LCDR Allyndra Warraquin
First Officer
USS Galileo

LTJG Luke Wyatt
Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS Galileo

CPO Keval Grayson
Operations Officer
USS Galileo

LTJG Grayson Jones
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Galileo

LTJG Emmarie
Asst. Chief Operations Officer
USS Galileo

PO2 Eva Kovalev
Propulsion Specialist
USS Galileo
[PNPC Zhao]

LCDR Norvi Stace
Commanding Officer
USS Galileo

ENS Janna Voutilainen
Stellar Cartographer
USS Galileo

Lieutenant Olsam Mott, M.D.
Acting Chief Medical Officer
USS Galileo

Crewman Apprentice Sigrid Thelin
Scientist's Mate
USS Galileo
[PNPC K'os Beaumont]

LTJG Benice Gyce
Security Investigations Officer
USS Galileo

LCDR Dea Mialin
Commanding Officer
USS Aventia

LT Jared Nicholas
Linguist
USS Galileo

LT Min Zhao
Chief Operations Officer
USS Galileo

AMB Solene von Lanthen
Diplomat
USS Galileo
[PNPC Khnailmnae]

CDT Nesh Saalm
Scientist's Mate
USS Galileo
[PNPC Khnailmnae]

Arandon Khnailmnae
Botanist
USS Galileo

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