Shouts 'n Stares

Posted on 11 Sep 2015 @ 10:31pm by Petty Officer 1st Class Taliesin Cynwrig
Edited on on 18 Sep 2015 @ 11:21pm

2,002 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Episode 09 - Empires
Location: USS Galileo - Deck 3, Armoury
Timeline: MD05, 0845 Hours

[ON]

"No disrespectful airs, she says," Taliesin muttered to himself as he paced in the small space. "Don't humiliate him, she says. Don't shout at him..." The Master-At-Arms was grumpier than usual today, and didn't care if she might be watching him right now. Taliesin was alone and was just complaining to himself about her wishes. No one else would hear him, and he'd definitely not let Cadet Wintrow Paragon hear it either. So he complained to nothing and noone, for all the good it would do him.

The Armoury aboard the Galileo was a small place, but with a certain efficiency to allow for as much storage as possible. Phasers were secured in cabinets along both the port and starboard bulkheads, the middle ground left clear. The door in the aft section of the room that lead to the rest of the Security complex left the only space for a small target at close range the fore bulkhead. Really not enough room for training someone up to standards.

That was what this was about, once again trying to teach the insufferable, cowardly, no-good...Taliesin took a breath and calmed himself down. Maybe it wasn't the kid's fault. After all, he was out here on a ship rather back at the Academy where he probably should be. People here were only able to train him when they could spare time from their normal duties. Taliesin let go of his anger, decided to give Wintrow Paragon the benefit of the doubt. But if he was one minute late, things weren't going to start out so well.

Fortunately, Wintrow was very conscientious about time, and unless he was held up by something important, he was never late for duty or even his classes. He knew those taking time to instruct him often did so by taking time away from other duties. Part of him made him feel guilty about that and it drove him to do well in his assignments. Of course, like any other student, he excelled in the subjects that interested him, and he performed less in those he had little interest in.

Unfortunately, while phaser training was interesting, it had been on that'd gotten onto the backburner in favour of something else. "petty officer," the boy greeted politely, as he entered the armoury.

"Cadet." Taliesin's expression was not friendly. "Today's lesson obviously involves hand held energy weapons." He lead the way to the wall of Starfleet weaponry. "I'm going to assume you know nothing, so we're going to take it real slow." So far, Taliesin's voice was controlled and relaxed and though his face might not be so welcoming at least he wasn't trying to scare the young man. "Please select the Type I Phaser from storage, be careful where you point it, and step back as far from the yellow target as you can."

Taliesin kept a sharp eye on how Wintrow would handle the weapon as if this was not a simulation. If the kid negligently pointed it his way on accident, there would definitely be some shouting to come.

Passing the weapons rack, Wintrow studied them, then reached for a phaser. Logically, he mused, a Type I phaser was the smallest, given the lowest number. And, he did know that a shuttle's phaser was a Type IV. Taking the weapon from the rack, he held his arm lowered, the business end aimed towards the floor. Again, that kind of made sense to him that you didn't aim your weapon while you were walking and not expecting anything. This was, after all, a safe environment and the last thing he wanted was to accidentally fire and hit his instructor. "This one, Petty Officer," he announced, approaching Taliesin. He reversed the hold and let it lie on his open hand as he offered up his selection.

"Yes, that one," Taliesin agreed. "Despite its small size, Cadet, that is still a deadly weapon. You will respect that fact during this session. Never forget this: it is entirely too easy to kill someone so watch where you point that thing." Taliesin leaned against the bulkhead next to the door and continued his lecture. "There are eight adjustable settings you should be able to see: Heat, light stun, stun, heavy stun, lethal one, lethal two, disruption, and disintegration. Even though it lacks the range of other weapons, it has the best accuracy rating at close ranges. You with me so far?"

"Yes petty officer," Wintrow replied dutifully, "small in size, effective for close range targets." He looked at it. "If anything, it makes a good size rock too if the power cell is drained. I mean...in combat if somehow it gets drained from use and you don't have spares."

Taliesin snorted but sounded slightly amused, "Kid, if you're using a rock in a phaser fight, you've lost a long time ago. The Type I is obviously easily concealed, say if you're on a mission where you want to look diplomatic but need to have a phaser up your sleeve. Your grip is a bit wrong, let it rest in your hand, fingers guiding it and keeping it stable. Now, you aim with your wrist instead of trying to fiddle around with in your hh'rr'kk fingers. Up and down, left and right, all with the wrist and your thumb holding the phaser in place over the trigger."

"Now," Taliesin said, standing upright from his leaning, "you see the yellow target on the fore bulkhead? Of course you do, my armoury is fucking tiny and it's practically in your face. Marra been toretzeg, Nova Class ships are bloody small! Come stand back here, aim, and hit that thing at level one. Line up your shot. I swear to your Betazoid gods, if you shoot any of the weapons lockers I will have your berries for golf."

Wintrow couldn't help bug giggle as he moved and aimed for the target. "Berries, petty officer?" he chuckled as he peered along his arm at the intended target. "I don't know any Betazoid gods..." He fired, and just missed the target. Sighing to himself, he took a deep breath and as he exhaled, pressed the trigger again. "Not too bad...I think?"

"Dammit Cadet!" Taliesin shouted. He'd tried, he really tried. "Do you know how long it takes to scrub a scorch mark off duranium?! I ought to...to..." Curses, she'd be watching him. Taliesin choked back what he would say and came to loom over the kid. "You're not paying attention to what you are doing," Taliesin said with gritted teeth as he took rough hold of Wintrow's arm and brought it up again. "Point your fuc - gah - your hand at the target, use your thumb as a guide. Is it lined up with what you want to hit, your wrist angled so the phaser points right at it?" Once he had Wintrow properly aimed, and he'd brook no pulling away from his touch, Taliesin stepped back. "Do that again."

Wintrow flinched visibly as he was roughly grabbed, blood draining from his face. His arm shook, his hand trembling as he aimed at the target. THe younger man closed his eyes for a moment, drawing a few deep breaths to ground himself again. Opening his eyes, he aimed carefully, then thumbed the trigger, barely touching it. The beam did hit the target, but not dead center.

"Uffern ffycin, Cadet! There may be hope for you yet!" That was the first compliment that Taliesin had given Wintrow. "How you could have missed the first shot with such a short distance is beyond me though. That's less than four meters away. I bet my old grandma I never met could shoot better than you." Okay, so that hadn't lasted very long. "You're a nervous one, aren't you? Someone yells 'boo' and I bet you jump. Got a question for you, Cadet. How do you expect to be an officer, someone who has to give orders and be responsible for people under his command, when you're this timid?"

"Practice," Wintrow answered simply, "and work on resolving the issues I have. Trust me s-petty officer, I'm working on it, and it used to be a lot worse." The complimend had actually helped him work up the courage to answer the question as it was something quite private and he barely even talked about it to his friends.

Taliesin didn't seem to take it very well, given the way he scowled and stared. His eyes judged hard. "It was worse? I don't see how that's even possible. Whatever issues you got, you need to deal with them and deal with them soon. You have two more years of training to make it through and not all of it is just learning how to fly a ship or fire a phaser. Most of it is learning how to command, to be a real leader. That's the only way you're going to become a Starfleet Officer." Taliesin, an enlisted man himself, held his superiors in obvious high regard.

The cadet seemed to consider the words as he listened and nodded. "I am dealing with them," he answered slowly, looking away now. "I'm trying...but recent events made it really difficult. I'm...." He fell silent, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath. Talking about it was extremely difficult, obviously. "I'm trying," he settled on.

"No excuses, Cadet Paragon," Taliesin said sharply in response to the kid talking about recent events. His gaze hadn't left the cadet, and he was still staring when Wintrow opened his own eyes again. "Trying hasn't good enough obviously. You will either deal with this, and do it head on with all you got, or give up now. One way is going to make you stronger no matter how much it hurts, the other way weaker. Figure out which you'd rather be."

With a grunt Taliesin stopped his version of a pep talk. He still felt Wintrow needed the harshness of a good few months at boot camp. Hell, as much as he respected officers, Taliesin often felt they all could stand being shouted at, humiliated, pushed to the limits of their endurance and beyond. But since he would be going against Commander Stace's wishes Taliesin had to tone it down. The man pointed at the weapons locker. "Deactivate that thing and put it away. I am scheduling you regular drills once a week for your marksmanship, once we get the holodecks back. And we'll figure out a self defence routine as well when this current crisis is over with too."

"Understood petty officer," Wintrow replied softly, already not looking forward to self defense sessions. As he reached to deactivate the small weapon, for some reason that he couldn't even recall later, his left hand thumb slid over the trigger and a bright blue beam emitted from the front of the weapon, striking Taliesin right in his foot. Horrified, Wintrow dropped the weapon and slapped his hands over his mouth to keep himself from crying out.

There was a moment of utter, terrible silence in the Armoury. Taliesin's left boot glowed red for just an instant as it was hit briefly by the heat setting of the weapon. But that was nothing compared to just how red Taliesin's face got with anger.

"You arane dek fool!" Taliesin shouted, backing Wintrow into a corner with one finger extended like a spear. Stace be damned, this time Wintrow had earned it. Damn, but it felt good to shout. "What the hell did I tell you?! Yr wyf yn mynd i guro chi i mewn i mwydion waedlyd! I'll mount your bloody head on my wall, kid, and that's only the start..."

OFF:

Cadet SO Wintrow Paragon
Support craft Pilot
USS Galileo
pnpc T'Vanna/Tyrion

PO1 Taliesin Cynwrig
Master-At-Arms
USS Galileo
PNPC Cyrin Xanth

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