58807.16-0600 - "Time to Flex"

"Time to Flex"

Lt Korn Zaje, Chief Tactical Officer
Lt Cmdr. Shirik Lektar, Chief Ops Officer

Stardate: 58807.16 06h00
Location: Gymnasium, Deck 4

Zaje had a feeling of excitement as he waited for Cmdr Lektar in the Gymnasium. It'd been some time since he'd had a decent sparring session. There'd often been competitive training on the Zeus, but he'd never felt overly challenged in those bouts.

He'd read over the security file for the Commander and the 'incidents' she'd been central too, but still didn't feel like he got a true sense of who she was. The conversation they'd had surrounding the ceremonial blade had given Zaje the chance to suggest the session in an effort to glean more information about her. Zaje liked a good challenge and he'd not yet met anyone he hadn't been able to find some common ground with.

He wasn't surprised when the Captain had selected the Commander as her No. 2, although he knew others were slightly taken aback.

Zaje was dressed in a white Gi, feeling the flexibility of movement. He'd brought his Mek'leth, won following a drunken fight whilst off duty with a rather grumpy and equally as inebriated Klingon. The weapon was light and deadly. Zaje always wondered how many of the Klingon's enemies had died at the end of the blade. He made a mental note to message Jorok, who he'd won the blade from, as they'd built an unlikely friendship over the years. Zaje slowly moved through his positions, striking in midair, breathing slowly, keeping his heart beat slow. When he'd felt he'd warmed up enough, he tapped his combadge.

"Korn to Commander Lektar. I've booked the Gymnasium for our sparring session. I'm ready when you are."

At that moment the doors to the gym whooshed open and there she was. Right on time, exactly. She wore a standard issue one-piece Starfleet training uniform, form fitting and black like her ebony skin. On each side a white stripe ran from armpit to the end of the long sleeves. The top went partially up her neck. A slight bulge on her chest slightly below her neck betrayed something round slipped under the suit. Her white hair, usually tied in a long braid down her back while on duty, was now in a tight bun on her head, nothing hanging loose. The PADD she was almost never without was not in evidence. Her knife was in a sheathe strapped to her thigh. Her form was lean, curvy, but with the sort of muscle tone usually reserved for athletes or trained warriors. 

She paused just inside the doors as they whooshed closed, her violet gaze sweeping the room as if calculating escape routes or analyzing threats. What she was actually doing was taking the surroundings, who else was present in the room, where everyone was, what they were doing, and it was all done in a moment, her gaze coming finally to rest on Korn. She stared at him for a moment before collecting her thoughts once more. Of course he was wearing a Gi. Of course he was holding a Klingon weapon. He had absolutely no clue and she emptied her mind of thoughts, memories, and emotions. 

She stepped towards him and nodded. "Lt, Korn," she greeted him as her gaze now studied him keenly from head to toe. She knew he wouldn't be carrying that weapon unless he knew how to use it. It was a longer weapon than hers, with a greater reach, and a secondary blade that could catch and snag onto things. 

"I've never seen one of those up close," she said. "May I examine it?"

Zaje took a few seconds to come to his senses. The sight of the Commander took him aback, her physique catching his eye. He could also almost feel her sense of razor sharp focus as she entered the gym. She commanded the attention of the room, whether intentional or not.

The Tellarites from his security team, Lt Breva and Ensign Klara, who were spotting each other whilst weight training, stopped in their tracks and watched as Lektar approached Zaje.

Zaje met her eyes and smiled ."Of course. It's a beautiful weapon. Not as ornate or decorated as others, but it is sublime in its simplicity." Zaje flipped the blade over in his hand, presenting the handle to the Commander. 

She took the blade with the practiced movements of someone with years of experience handling hand weapons. The turned the blade over, examining its details, checking its weight and balance, seeing the sharpness of the blade. It was a dangerous weapon, but lacked some of the features designed into her own blade while including others hers didn't have. "It's a good weapon," she observed. "May I ask where you procured it? And whether you've wielded it in actual combat?"

Her gaze went back to him as she handed the blade back the same way she had received it, in a single smooth motion she wasn't even conscious of. Every move she made was compact, efficient, smooth and graceful, and none of it seemed to be consciously deliberate. 

The ease of which she handled the blade confirmed to Zaje that he'd met his match before the bout even started. Still, he'd given skilled opponents a beating before. Zajes's mind flashed back to his time in a Cardassian labor camp. He and others made to fight for Cardassian entertainment. Little did they know Zaje was biding his time.

Snapping back to the present, Zaje let out a little laugh as he recalled the evening with Jorok. "It was an eventful night involving Blood Wine and gagh. Not the most pleasant combination for a non-Klingon!"

Zaje focused on the blade and continued "We were on military exercises with the Klingons. The Zeus was seen as a 'scalp' for the Klingon lead vessel, the IKS Dag'ath, a vor'cha class. We were the heaviest starfleet vessel, so an honorable prey for the Klingons. Prior to the final exercise, we were encouraged to spend some time with our Klingon counterparts. I met with Jorok, proud warrior from the House of T'Ket"

Zaje gave a quick look at the Tellarites, who quickly looked away and went back to their weights. "Jorok offered some Blood Wine and I traded some Bajoran springwine. After a long night drinking, gagh and light wrestling, the night turned to 'posturing'. Blades were drawn and after a little....back and forth, a wager was set; the winner of the final exercise wins the blade of the loser"

"Suffice to say, the Zeus was a well drilled and battle hardened ship and crew. We overwhelmed the Dag'ath, victorious in battle. The Klingon blade was mine, along with a supply of Blood Wine."

Zaje smiled at the memory, but re-focused on the task at hand. "Perhaps we should set some ground rules?"

She considered his answer, her mind always at work. "Then, you won the blade in a wager on ship combat, and have never used it in actual battle." She nodded. "On a holodeck there are safety protocols in place. Without them, there is the risk of being cut if a combatant is not highly skilled, even in a practice. What do you have in mind?"

Zaje smiled at the Commander's comments "This blade? No, it hasn't seen combat, at least not by my hand. Other blades, a different story"

Zaje contemplated for a second, watching the Commander closely. "I feel, whilst the safety protocols have their place, it lacks the sense of 'threat' required to hone one's skills."

After a flurry of moves, Zaje spun the blade in one hand, more playful than threatening. "I think faces are out of the question; although I'm sure they'll heal. So, chest down, first to draw blood is the winner?"

She had a further question but shelved it as he continued. She raised an eyebrow. "You want blood to be drawn?" she said with surprise. With her record that might cause a problem, she thought. "Very well, but I expect you to do the explaining on how it happened..." She took a half-step back from him and drew the Kemla silently from its sheath. It's black blade reflected the overhead lights and her eyes locked on to him, watching every movement of muscle, every twitch that could indicate the next move, watching where his eyes went. She made no further movement, her entire posture and demeanor slipping from the person she was a moment ago into something more dangerous, more deadly, something waiting to strike the fatal blow. Her whole body was poised and waiting.

The Commander's focus on him sent a surge of adrenaline through Zaje's body. His muscles twitched in anticipation of the fight. He'd fought bigger opponents, but he knew he'd have a big challenge with the Commander.

"I'm sure the Captain mentioned something about drilling the crew in case of battle. This is simply that. To use an old Earth saying my previous Captain taught me 'Fortune favors the brave'. En guard."

Zaje took a fighting stance, blade held low. His eyes fixed on the black blade, poised for an attack.

Shirik didn't attack. Instead, she moved. Slowly, cautiously, her eyes never leaving him, her body moving in graceful silent movements. Circling, testing, measuring her opponent, seeking both strengths and weaknesses, and at a distance calculated to be just out of reach of the weapon he wielded for now.

Zaje faced the Commander cautiously, watching her circle him, eyes fixed on her blade. He'd read her file, knew a little of her background, respected her focus and was under no illusions he could win this fight. 

However, that was not his ultimate goal. Zaje wanted to be an ally to the Commander, try and earn her trust. He felt this was the best way to achieve that.

Picking his moment, Zaje lunged at her with a quick slashing action, testing her guard.

Her eyes had picked up the tension in his muscles a split second before the lunge. She pivoted on one foot, her torso sliding out of the path of his blade as her own flashed towards his outstretched arm. She was focused and controlled, every movement measured, efficient.

The Commander’s speed surprised Zaje, her body evading his blade with ease. He managed to tuck his arm towards his chest as the black blade sliced towards it. 

"Nice moves, Commander," Zaje said with a smile. He was enjoying himself so far, but he couldn't get a read of the Commander, her features as neutral as ever.

Zaje faked a low lunge before, springing up and swiping towards the forearm of the Commander.

She was still in motion, her previous strike flowing fluidly into the next movement. Her arm dipped and the blade slipped from her hand, only to be caught in the next instant by her left and slashing towards his body as she spun around him. She didn't answer him, her focus on the spar.

Zaje's eyes widened as he saw his last attack effortlessly avoided. The speed of her riposte was almost too quick for him to dodge. The black blade appeared from nowhere and glistened as it flowed past his stomach, catching the fabric on his Gi, leaving a slash mark. Zaje checked his stomach, finding it still intact.

Despite the near miss, Zaje's smile had returned. He discarded the jacket of his Gi, or what was left of it. His toned torso was covered in sweat, adding a sheen to his body. Scars were spread over his flesh, signs of torture and battle, reminders of struggles.

He flipped the blade again, the handle up, blade down. 

The Tellarites were once again watching, no longer hiding their surprise. Zaje hadn't notice other crew had entered the gym. "News travels fast," he muttered to himself.

Zaje took a deep breath, wiping sweat from his brow. He moved slowly at first, before he attacked like a coiled spring, hoping to catch the Commander off guard. He spun in the air, blade out, slicing towards her torso.

She spun away as he discarded his Gi jacket, still moving but giving him space to regroup. As his body sprang, hers dove, slightly to his non-armed side, rolling under him as he passed over her, her blade moving in an arc towards his side. 

She landed from her roll facing him in a low crouch, ready to spring again if need be.

Zaje's blade sliced thin air where the Commander had been standing. He hadn't seen where or how she'd moved away from him. As he landed he swiveled and faced the Commander again, blade poised.

As he moved, a cold breeze hit his ribs, causing him to halt abruptly. He put his hand to his side, lifting it towards him, he saw crimson dripping from his fingers. He hadn't felt the cut at the time, but the sight of his own blood helped highlight the pain.

"Congratulations Commander," he winced in pain, "you have drawn first blood. That was one hell of a fight!" Zaje could feel the blood trickling down his body, soaking into his trousers. "I'd better get to sickbay before I leave a stain on the floor! Until next time, Commander."

Shirik straightened, and the neutral expression was briefly gone from her features. She got a momentary glimpse of his back, and a split second flash from her memory was there, the golden tiger tattoo. But his back had no tattoo, only scars. Her gaze traveled over his scarred form as he turned before following his hand to the slice in his side, and there was a dismayed look on her face. "I'm sorry, the cut is deeper than what I had intended." What would Tyzur say? What would the command staff say? Would they make her give up her blade? A split second of panic flashed through her. All of it in her eyes and face and then gone again in an instant. She unconsciously wiped the blood off her blade onto the leg of her suit before slipping it back into its sheath. "Yes... " she said.

Zaje paused in the doorway "Oh...and don't worry Commander, I'll ask the Doc to be discreet. I'm also sure nobody in the gym saw anything untoward. Right?"

Murmurs of "Yes Sir" and "Of course Sir" came from the crew who had gathered. Zaje stared at them for a moment, then smiled "Good stuff. I'm sure some of you have duties to attend to..."

With that, he turned and headed out the door, straight to the turbo lift

She blinked in surprise, not even having noticed the audience that had gathered. She looked over and saw the small group looking their way. She knew no matter what, the rumors would now be loose. On a ship this small, the crewmen would talk. She turned back to Zaje as he headed out the door with a departing nod and, "Lieutenant..." before making her own exit.