Fight For Your Right to Party

Posted on 19 Jan 2016 @ 11:05pm by Lieutenant Wilhelm Von Haeften
Edited on on 22 Jan 2016 @ 7:47pm

3,686 words; about a 18 minute read

Mission: Episode 10 - Symposium
Location: USS Galileo - Lounge/Holodeck
Timeline: MD 55 - 1707 hours

ON:

Wilhelm Von Haeften was bored out of his mind. His shift had ended an hour ago, but he was out of ideas on what to do. No one wished to play chess, no one wanted to discuss history, and he was burnt out on his symposium topic.

He was sitting in the crew lounge, sipping on a beverage, hoping to find some answers dwelling within its burnt-orange hue when the answer to his problems, unbeknownst to him, waltzed in through the doors.

A young Betazoid in intel greys walked in, black eyes scanning the room before walking towards the replicator. Seconds later he plunked himself down at one of the tables and set the tray in front of him. He looked up when he felt someone looking in his direction and his eyes met with those of someone in sciences teal. He arched his eyebrows in question as he returned the stare.

Wilhelm cocked his head back in acknowledgement of the spook’s existence, and when he got one in return, got up out of the chair, picked up his beverage, and motioned on over to the Intel fellow.

“Hi Spook*.” the German said, using the older than old affectionate slang term for Intel Soldiers.

“Please don’t call me that,” Tyrion responded as he sipped his hot chocolate, “if anything just call me Tyr. I’m not a spook…”

Wilhelm laughed good-naturedly.

“Sorry my friend, so long as you wear that grey collar, you’ll be a spook to the rest of the fleet.”

The CSO could see that his friend was less than amused by it.

“It’s not a term of disparage or anything Tyr, but sorry if I offended you; habits from my Reserve time will still die hard.”

“Others might not object but I do. I’ve a lot to prove and I lack some of the skills to do it. I’m a deskjockey Will, what do I know about field work. I did one away mission and I failed that, I got captured. I haven’t been in the field since and now I’m suddenly a department head on my predecessor’s recommendations. I barely know how to fire a phaser!”

“Mind if I join you?” the Germans said, a wave of his encompassing the empty chair across from the grey-necked officer. Getting a nod, Wil sat in the aforementioned seat.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m no marksman either. As for desk jockey, we’re officers, it’s what we do. Second, I don’t think you should dwell on that previous error; if your superior recommended you for higher authority and responsibility, they must have seen something in you worth mentoring.” Von Haeften said.

Sipping his drink before continuing, the German added “Allow me to give you perspective: I’m a historian by training; I know a little bit about the physical sciences out of hobby and personal study, but I know next to nothing about other sciences. Astronomy, quantum mechanics, botany, these are beyond my tiny German brain. As a department head, we are not expected to know everything, only how to FIND OUT everything...that’s why we have experts in various fields underneath us.”

“Science is completely beyond me,” Tyrion acknowledged, “though I’m learning a little about botany and engineering. My roommate is a botanist, and my husband’s an engineer. He was the chief engineer prior to an accident in engineering and he’s going to be reassigned to Earth soon.” He took another sip from his drink before setting the steaming mug down on the table. “Me, I’m a computer systems specialist. Delving into another system, especially alien ones, is what I do best. But defending those that work in my area...no I failed miserably at that when we were boarded by the Terrans...I had a phaser, but no skill to use it. And I don’t have any close combat skills.”

Wilhelm put his hand to his chin in thought.

“Maybe we can change that my friend.” he said. “Care for a trip to the holodeck?”

“Sure, what do you have in mind?” Tyrion picked up his mug again and drained the final content on the risk of burning his mouth. “And no, I don’t read yours...I can, but I don’t. Privacy and ethics and all that. Only would in an emergency and even that’s a stretch.”

“I assumed that Tyr. But you forget that I’m just a simple Terran idiot not blessed with empathic or telepathic abilities, so I’m forced to use this limited linguistic form of communication.” Wil said in mock anger.

“Anyway, how about some combat training? I’m no Marine, but I did take level two combatives at the Academy, mostly to impress a girl, but that’s another story. I’ll show you the basics, and then we’ll take on some holographic opponents so we don’t have to explain to sickbay that we didn’t actually fight over a woman.” the CSO said, tacking a grin on his face.

“Considering I’m married, that’s unlikely,” Tyrion smiled, sensing the mock anger, and dismissing it. “That, and my mate is not a woman so that makes it even more unlikely. But practice is permitted, so long as it doesn’t get out of hand.”

The German rolled his eyes.

“You know what I meant Tyr. Anyway, please meet me in Holodeck One in thirty minutes.”

“I will…” The Betazoid was already looking forward to it. It’d certainly get his mind off his husband’s pending transfer.

== 30min later==

Dressed in what Starfleet considered proper work-out gear, Tyrion ‘reported’ to the indicated holodeck and waited for the science officer to arrive.

Wilhelm was waiting for him, already stretching on a holographic gym mat.

“Welcome. Need to stretch or should we just jump in?”

“No I don’t need to stretch, I already had my normal workout in the gym.”

“Alright, first off, we’ll do the basics: blocking. Now, first thing you need to know is, don’t be afraid to take a hit in order to gain an advantage; this isn’t like holo-novels were the hero can take on twelve men and not take a single hit. The thing you wanna do is avoid the “hurt areas”, such as your head and neck, your chest, your uh...bits, and so forth. Everything else is expendable and can be used to block your opponent's attack.”

Wilhelm moved to the center of the holodeck.

“Computer, enter Blocking Tutorial One.”

The computer cheerfully chirped in reply, and produced a human figure about Wilhelm’s height and weight, in a white karate gei robe, the figure’s hands poised in front of him in the ready position.

“This fellow is in the ‘ready position’; from this position, he can be prepared to block, strike, or throw if needed. Notice that his hands are closed into fists. This is mostly personal preference, but the closed hand makes it easier to ensure you don’t break a finger through striking or blocking.” Von Haeften said, pointing with his entire hand at the fists of the holographic figure.

“Now observe his movements as I attempt to strike him; notice how his hands move to stop me and also to control me.”

The CSO moved opposite the dummy and took a ready stance. Wilhelm attempted to deliver a right cross in a large sweeping motion, typical of how a ‘bar fight’ might go. The dummy put up his left forearm to meet Wil’s attack, stopping it cold. After a second, the dummy grabbed the German’s right wrist with his right hand, trapping it, before halting.

“As you see, he now controls my right arm. If so inclined, he could now direct me backwards off my feet, pull me forward onto my face, or even break my arm if he has the training. He could strike me with his blocking hand by thrusting it forward into my face, attempt a strike with his free hand, or control me via my trapped arm and kick me in the ribs until I cough up blood.”

“Return.” Wil commanded, and the dummy released the Germans hand to return to the ready position.

“If the enemy should attempt to punch forward…”

Von Haeften demonstrated by thrusting his right fist towards the sternum of the dummy. The practice figure turned his right shoulder back, so that now Wil’s right arm was going parallel to the figure’s chest. The dummy grabbed the teutonic scientist’s arm with both hands, tucking Wil’s hand under the dummy’s right armpit with a sweep of the arm, and placed his left hand on Wil’s right elbow.

“I’m doing whatever he wants now.” the German stated. “Enough pressure towards my elbow, and it’ll dislocate. A simple turn, and I’ll either end up on my back or suffer a dislocated shoulder.”

“Return.”

“It all starts with the block.”

“We’ll do some light sparring together before moving onto practice dummies and then use actual combat programs. We’ll go over the block, the disengage, the leg sweep, controlling ground movement, for when and if the battle goes to the ground, and finally, disarming an opponent’s weapon.”

“Ready?”

The German maneuvered opposite Tyrion.

“Now, I’m gonna throw a light punch, and I’m going to tell you which direction it’s coming from, before I don’t tell you and let you react. After that…”

:::Several hours later:::

“Pretty good. If you are interested, please don’t take everything I have said as the gospel; I just had the basics of level two, meaning I can teach the VERY basics of level one, but anything else requires a level three instructor. I think we might have a handful of such people aboard the Galileo.” Wil said.

“Probably half the security force,” Tyrion chuckled, while panting for breath. He was feeling sweaty and sticky but certainly willing to continue.

“Care to start the actual fight program?” the German inquired.

“I think, if we don’t try I’ll probably never properly learn?” Tyrion wiped sticky and damp hair from his face. It was certainly growing long again since he had shaved it all off in a dare several months prior. “Gray’s gonna kill me….wanna bet?” The Betazoid was sure he’d be going home battered and bruised.

“You’ll be fine; I’m just as likely to get bruised as you are...I’m no kung fu master myself you know.” Wilhelm said.

“Computer, begin Self-Defense Sequence Alpha One, setting three.”

The computer chirped and the holodeck shimmered before the walls and floor were replaced by an urban setting. Fires burned inside several barrels on the outskirts of the arena the two men found themselves , and the sun seemed to be frozen in the sky at around 1700 or so. Shadows danced along the bare stone walls and masonry floors as the two men looked around for opponents.

“Just let me know when and if you want to ramp it up.” Von Haeften said, his back to Tyrion.

Just then, a group of men appeared out of the shadows. None of them were armed, and had a blank expression on their faces as they approached the two friends and took ready positions.

“Wait.” Wilhelm said, coming out of his stance. “Computer, this is too...bland. It needs more life; make it fun.”

“Specify.” the cheery, feminine voice of the computer said.

“Give them personality of some kind.” the German retorted, gesturing to the opponents before them.

“Specify.” the computer requested once again in that same monotone.

“Errol Flynn?” the CSO said, more a question than a demand.

The computer bleeped in response, making the group of men vanish into nothing. Once again, footsteps told of men coming out of the shadows. The same looking group of men approached the two friends, except this time, one of them, a bald man with trill spots, spoke up.

“Avast there you troublesome do-gooders! This is our turf, and if you don’t want a severe beating, I recommend you scram post-haste.” the bald trill said, menace dripping out of his voice, which sounded like it came straight out of a horribly overacted holonovel.

“Bad-ass huh?” Tyrion muttered as they walked along. “We’re not looking for a fight,” he told their would-be opponents, “we’re just passing through. We’ll be out of your turf in no time, if you just leave us to ourselves and don’t bother us.” He resisted the urge to grab Wilhelm’s arm and keep him close, so he didn’t reach out at all instead. “Come, we must hurry.” It was somewhat annoying that he couldn’t sense their opponents.

“Oh a peace-making wanker huh?” the bald Trill said, staring dagger at Tyrion. “Maybe now I wanna beat ya a lil cuz I don’t like peaceful types eh?”

“Sorry Tyr, I don’t think the programming will let us diplomat our way out of this.” Wil said to his friend.

“At ‘em boys!” the Trill said.

With that command, the rest of his gang started to encircle the two embattled friends, until they were surrounded.

“Back to back! Give them no room to hit you from behind.” Wil called out.

The two officers placed their backs against each other. Wilhelm could sense Tyrion’s back muscles tense, flight or fight response kicking in.

“Don’t panic Tyr; they are amateurs after all; use your mind and stay calm. Analyze; which of the enemy in front of you is the most dangerous threat?”

Body tensing up as he stood back to back with Wilhelm, Tyrion narrowed his eyes also in an attempt to hide his heritage. He scanned the goons in front of him, keeping his arms up to defend himself if necessary. They looked unarmed, but Tyrion knew looks could be deceiving. That’s why he was learning to trust on what he sensed, to unveil the lies that others were spewing during talks. or during information gathering. But that didn’t fly here as holograms had no thoughts he could sense or read. “I don’t know, none seem armed,” he reported in hushed voice, “big one seems more dangerous than the toothpick over there.”

Wilhelm risked a glance at the two men Tyr mentioned.

“An assumption based upon animal instincts; remember what we learned in lesson two: muscle equals weight, but weight equals momentum. The more muscle a guy has, the easier it is to use his momentum to your advantage. No, toothpick there is your most likely threat for two reasons: one, the little guys think they have more to prove, and so usually attack first. Two: he likely has little fat and therefore less momentum, which means he most likely can work around and through your defenses more easily. His skeletal muscles also don’t have to carry as much weight as his bulky gym rat friend there; he could fight you for hours if he had to.”

“Provided he’s got the stamina,” Tyrion breathed, keeping an eye on beefy as he turned his attention to the toothpick.

“Enough talk!” the Trill yelled. And with that, the melee was on.

A blond-haired woman came at Wilhelm, trying to kick him in the ribs with her left shin. The German grabbed the she-devil’s leg with his right arm, trapping her foot, then simply walked backwards and to the side, forcing the woman to her other knee less she dislocated her leg from the hip. When she was in position, Wil leaned towards her.

“Sorry miss.” the German said before twisting his hip to the right and smashing his left knee into the woman’s skull. She crumpled like a sack of potatoes.

Distracted by his friend’s move, Tyrion tumbled to the floor as -as predicted- his thin opponent charged at him and managed to take him down. The Betazoid rolled with his fall, clinging to the toothpick and landing on top of him. His shoulder had painfully struck the pavement but he knew that there’d be little more than a bruise due to the holodeck safeties. Had this been real, he’d likely have dislocated it, or worse. His hand shifted to his attacker’s throat, fingers tightening. “Call your mate off, before I strangle you,” he suggested calmly.

“Holodeck Tyr; that’s not gonna work.” Wil said between blocking the punches of a dark-haired human attacker. Wilhelm trapped both hands, but his attacker held on with his own, laughing as he did so. Wil responded with a headbutt, which hurt like hell and made him woozy.

“Ouchy.” the CSO said. shaking his head.

“Why not,” Tyrion asked as his fingers squeezed on the pick’s jugulars, while keeping an eye on the bigger man.

“Because they are not programmed to, of course. Negotiate I mean.” Wil yelled out.

“Yes and?” Tyrion swung his left hand, fist connecting soundly with the struggling man’s temple.

Seeing the man was unconscious, Wil leaned down and offered his hand to help him up.

“Computer, freeze.” the German ordered. “Begin smart difficulty program zero-one-alpha.”

The figures disappeared, and then reappeared in their same locations and postures as before.

“The computer will ramp the difficulty with our successes. A few notes before we begin again: if you take the fight to the ground, finish the fight quickly, as his friends might just drag you off of him in real life; break an arm, that’s pretty delicate...go for an eye, etc. Two: there’s no such thing as fighting dirty. Three: use the environment if you can, break a rock over their face rather than break your knuckles. Ok?”

Tyrion nodded as he flexed his right shoulder, rubbing it a few times. “Under normal circumstances I’d read them and I’d probably know what they were going to do before they did it. It’s unethical but is there such a thing as etiquette when fighting for your life? Especially when it’s my job to gather information about an opponent….”

“It’s a fight Tyr...not a dance. Speaking of dance…”

The two friends turned their attention to their opponents as they charged both of them.

:::Two hours later:::

The doors to the holodeck opened, and out stumbled two men who only superficially resembled men cosmetically, such was the bruises and wounds on their bodies.

Wilhelm Von Haeften felt a swollen eye coming on, and his lip had been cut. The rest of him was covered in aches and bruises, and his knuckles hurt and his legs reacted with disdain when he took steps...other than that, he was peachy.

He sat down against the wall of the corridor, and Tyr came to sit next to him.

Wil let out a low laugh before turning to his companion.

“You ok Tyr?”

“My husband will definitely kill me,” Tyrion grunted as he sank down along the wall. He was bruised all over, his clothes torn and he was covered in a wide variety of cuts and scrapes. His right shoulder had dislocated after several unfortunate falls and rolls and his arm was feeling numb.

The CSO patted his friend on the shoulder, his left in comfort.

“You’ll be ok pal..we both will; just as soon as we both get to sickbay and have these looked at.”

Wil stood and prepared to give Tyrion his arm to help him hobble the way there, but his right leg decided it had had enough abuse for the day, and stopped supporting his weight. The German grabbed onto the wall for support, hobbling with his now bummed leg.

“Tell you what, you help me get there, and I’ll help you, deal?” Von Haeften said, his smile showing flecks of stained blood on his teeth.

Tyrion nodded, though he was presented with a problem. “I’ll have to support you but you’re going to have to be careful with leaning on me.” He hauled Wilhelm back to his feet, grimacing as his own arm and shoulder were jarred. “We shouldn’t be this bad off you know, we used full safeties….unless something’s wrong with the holodeck or something messed with the systems…”

“Yeah, sparring programs gently downgrade the safeties as the difficulty increases, otherwise there’s no risk associated with the training and it makes trainees reckless. It could never have killed us or severely injured us that bad. All this stuff is superficial and from our own exertions.”

“Yeah well that one toss down that building did mess up my shoulder and I’m feeling a little dizzy. I don’t remember hitting my head though, did I?” He knew he had blacked out briefly at some point, but couldn’t remember why.

“I think when big guy gave you that punch to the head and you careened into the side wall was what did that. Even safeties can’t prevent damage from falling.”

“Come on pal, let’s go.” the German said gently to his battle companion. The two men, bloody, bruised of both body and ego, took each other in arm, Will leaning on Tyrion’s left side while putting little weight on his hurt foot, and the CSO taking the slack off the feet of Tyr.

The two men had just started down the hall when a crewman walked past them.

“What happened to you two?!” she asked.

“Oh, he hit me first, I swear.” Von Haeften said in mock anger.

Tyrion gave a weak laugh. “Yea...right..”

“Hey Tyr…” Wil said.

“Yeah...?”

“You kicked ass in there buddy.”

“You too, major kick-ass.”

With that, the two men continued their shambling crawl towards sickbay and relief from their self-sustained injuries.

OFF:

Lieutenant JG Wilhelm Von Haeften
Chief Science Officer
USS Galileo

&

Ensign Tyrion Faye
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Galileo

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