Ne Ki'ne

Posted on 23 Jan 2013 @ 5:33pm by

4,938 words; about a 25 minute read

Mission: Episode 03 - Frontier
Location: USS Galileo: Holodeck
Timeline: MD 01 0700 Hours

ON:

"Klee-et," Liyar spoke only once to the opponent in front of him, which wasn't sentient in any way. The practice was so-long embedded, the tradition, that it was going through the movements rather than for any legitimate reason. He was dressed only in a pair of thin white pants and a T-shirt, which differed from his normal style of dress, but was far less encumbering. Of course, the logical thing to do would be to train in full uniform, but he'd decided not to practice anything he usually used in combat. Instead, he had decided to attempt a routine test of sof'el'itju, a martial art devoted to meditative kata rather than offensive capability and resembling something like Brazilian capoeira. The Galileo was nearly on her way to the starbase, so he thought it would be a good idea to get some training in beforehand.

He ran forward and jumped, ducking under a kick from the materialized opponent, a nameless, faceless person and swiveled on his feet, spinning once and landing without hitting the opponent at all, hands in front of him. This continued for some time as they circled eachother, but they weren't landing any moves. The entire point was to evade, out-maneuver, force your opponent to trip themselves up. Liyar was starting to feel the beginning stages of adrenaline when the alarm of the holodeck went off indicating the doors were going to open, but he failed to hear it as he rolled under another kick, landing on his back. Abandoning the pretense of landing no moves, he braced his foot against the hologram's chest, jabbing his hand into the man's forehead and sitting up when he'd pushed the guy back far enough. He hit the deck when he got his feet under him, ran again and slammed his arm into the hologram's chest, sending him down and entering into a fast spinning kick which was meant to ensure he stayed down. It hit the hologram in the cheek just as the doors outright opened.

The holodeck doors made their slow opening just in time to reveal the sight of a foot cracking into the side of somebody's head. A spray of red blood shot out from his mouth and nose as he spiraled to the floor and made yet another crunching noise as he slammed into it. Instinctively, Maenad jumped back and shielded herself behind her PADD, raising one of her legs. The lifeless body crunched just inches from her foot. Looking down at it, frightened, she raised her eyes and saw who'd done this. And she was stunned.

"Liyar!" she practically screamed, "What are you doing?"

The Vulcan landed once again on his feet and tensed, pausing mid-spin just in time to avoid colliding with Maenad. He grabbed her, staring down at her with a mixture of confusion and irritation. "Lieutenant Panne," he muttered, letting her go and stepping back. "You should not enter unannounced." Almost sheepishly, he added, "There was a sign." The irritation in his eyes dissolved as her fear sunk in and he called the computer to dispose of the body. "Lieutenant," he said again less sharply, "It is merely a hologram. There is no danger." The body disappeared as did several splotches of green and white blood on his clothing. There were however a few scratches on his face and his arms, which seemed to belie that little statement, but he didn't look very concerned over it.

"Unannounced?" her voice was still a little shaky, but it was nothing on what it had been. She had sounded the warning from the corridor; maybe if he hadn't been so intent on beating people up, he would have heard it. She then noticed the scrapes and bruises on his exposed skin. Small forest green lines ran across his forearms, then on his cheeks and jaw. He was bleeding. She felt a tingle in her hands and neck, but quickly stopped thinking about it. She took one of his arms by the wrist and looked at it more carefully before giving it back. "Why are the safeties off?" she demanded. "And, tell me what you're doing in here."

Liyar arched an eyebrow down at her. Was it not apparent? "Sof'el'itju, baik ranau. Training, as you call it." He took his arm back, which was a nice gesture. She could have kept it. Or ripped it off. She looked very angry. He folded his hands behind him and nodded slightly. "I cannot gauge an accurate response if there is no precedent to respond. Safeties defeat the purpose." He gestured slightly. "And I was not beating anyone," he maintained. "It was a hologram," he made sure to remind her. "It is natural training. You do not keep with the Starfleet set?"

Why was everybody always trying to kill themselves in the holodeck? Athlen first, and then, well, maybe not everyone. Why were Athlen and Liyar always trying to kill themselves, then? Of course, Maenad was exaggerating. "This is unacceptable," she scolded him, looking him over again. In all reality, it looked like the Vulcan had run through a thorn bush. Well, maybe just some brambles. Whenever she walked through a thicket without any sleeves, she always got cut up too. But, her skin wasn't as tough as his, so there was no excuse.

"You can practice with the safeties on," she said, still angry. "And, no I do not keep up with the Starfleet set," she added, crossing her arms. "I find this all very repulsive, Mister Liyar. I am surprised at you." There was no hiding her disappointment.

Liyar stared at her, the blank look on his face born of more confusion than emotionlessness, though they both looked relatively similar. Her words made absolutely no sense to him, and he cocked his head to the side as he tried to figure it out. He remained unsuccessful. "I am uncertain as to which Terran custom I have violated," he started, "However, I assure you that my actions are perfectly acceptable. I have engaged in this form of training since the age of four. Nearly every Vulcan is fluent in self-defense..." the look on her face wasn't changing any and he trailed off. He knew that he was missing something, but he wasn't certain what. The fact that he had a few scrapes didn't even register as a possible culprit. Disappointed in him? That emotion, he knew, indicated that he failed in some expectation or another, but he could not rationalize why this would be. Maenad had lived on Vulcan, studied Vulcans, knew even their Standard language. It was not as if he were engaging in ke-ta-yatar or even D'Alik'tal, which was less deadly but still much more offensive. In fact, he had been taking it easy, as a Terran would say. Why was she unfamiliar with this? "It was not my intention to frighten you." Or even be seen in the first place, he added mentally. He wisely chose not to tack that on. "Surely you must also possess these abilities and practice them at regular intervals?" Liyar asked, genuinely perplexed now. Was it possible she did not even know how to defend herself? His features fell a little flatter. That was unacceptable.

"No," she said quite simply. "Violence in all forms is reprehensible." Maenad's eyes fell back to his scrapes. One of them, on his forearm, seemed to be bleeding enough that it might have needed padding off. She looked away from it. "And, yes, I am capable of defending myself. If you'll recall, Mister Liyar, I dropped Mister Kiwosk to the ground during that ridiculous exercise we did last week. But, I do not make a hobby of..." her eyes found a shade of darkness on the underside of one of Liyar's arms.

Liyar gave her a mildly long face. "Yes, I recall. And as such, you must require to maintain such abilities with general training," he said in a patient tone. "As you witnessed, Crewman Athlen and myself also engaged in t'an krila ue'djero," he reminded her. Although he had lost, considering the multitude of advantages Athlen had in that field, he knew he wasn't bad enough to look a stranger to it. "Sof'el'itju is non-combative," he thought to tack on. "The participants do not enter within a meter of one another. I was practicing a modified version." He was trying to be comforting. She did not look comforted. In fact, she was looking at him as if he were a Klingon. He exhaled calmly, in what could have been a sigh on a non-Vulcan. Why was he justifying himself at all? He wasn't a child, he did not need permission. It was highly illogical to be a total pacifist. Aside, it was highly illogical to espouse total pacifism while being in Starfleet, an organization which promoted the use of defensive force, the same as he. There were reasons why Vulcan had never known a conqueror and it was not because they offered their attackers plomeek soup and life lessons in logic. Show them peace only went so far. It did not mean foolishly giving up your life. He went to say something further, but he was interrupted as she grabbed ahold of his arm. Again. He wondered if she knew that it was his arm. (Wait. He's supposed to be displeased.)

"What is that?" she asked him, still sounding shrill. She grabbed his arm again and turned it over. There was script enshrined on him, tattooed, from his wrist all the way up until she couldn't see it under his t-shirt. Maenad didn't speak Liyar's Miri'ahm gotavlu; she spoke the dominant Vulcan of the Western provinces, but she recognised the tattooed script. "I didn't know you had a tattoo," her tone demonstrated her shock, like she thought that he should have told her and like it was a crime that he hadn't. She suddenly felt like she had no idea who she was looking at.

At that, Liyar's eyebrows flew up again, train of thought forgotten. "Indeed," he confirmed with a small nod. "This was also visible during our security excursion. The t'kahr vesht-var. Since I was seven. It is traditional for the males in my family to undergo the Inscription during the Trials." As a historical practice, the Inscription was typically reserved for warfaring clans, which the Niram clan very clearly belonged. It had been a dog tag of sorts, a way to identify one's self, one's place, one's clan - were they to be killed in battle. The only remnant of this practice was the presence of instructions on what to do were his body to be found and his katra in tact. A Life Marker, composed of the stories of his clan's movements through time. As one got older, the stories were added to, a way to indicate that one was a worthy vessel to carry them. In modern times, it remained mostly symbolic, used in the manner he'd spoken of. As a male successor, a division-leader, it was a representation of his clan's living place in time. He moved on back over to what was, in his mind, the more pertinent question: "If you do not keep up with your Starfleet set, how is it that you know how to defend yourself?" he asked, and if he were anyone but a Vulcan, he might have looked sincerely, well, worried.

"Because I--" she stopped herself. "I just can," she decided to say. She was specially trained in self-defense, quite intensively, for the intelligence mission she had performed a year ago. She hated talking about it because she hated that she'd done it. Most of her advanced training had come from SFI, and the rest was self-taught in some of her own holo-novels - another aspect of herself that she didn't like talking about. "And, I am a science officer," she said, as though she knew she'd have been better off without this point. "I have security to protect me when I'm in danger if my own capabilities are limited. There is also very little threat to my safety and, well... The point is, I don't like it and neither should you."

Liyar shook his head. That was the most flimsy answer he'd ever heard from her yet. "Lieutenant, self-defense is a necessary skill. Security is not always going to be there to protect you. A situation can become dangerous at any moment." As though she hadn't just told him the idea repulsed her, "It is not a matter of like, nor dislike. It is a matter of logic. You must be adequately trained." The idea that she couldn't defend herself, that she could be injured. It could not sit well with him. Not as a Vulcan, although to him it just seemed natural. He would not admit it openly, but Maenad was one of the few people that he actually enjoyed being around. That he could even, perhaps, call friend. Vulcans did not use that term lightly. He sized her up. There was absolutely no way that she could hold her own in any fight, fair or not. This ship had been attacked by Klingons on their first mission. The idea of that made him tense. And as though she'd definitely not told him that she understood what she was doing, because he obviously did not believe her, he added, "I truly believe that you should learn how to defend yourself correctly."

Maenad looked at her PADD, pretending to ignore him. "I'm sorry, Mister Liyar," she said once he'd finished his lecture. "I do appreciate your intentions, but I can assure you that I am aware of the risks and I choose to take them. I can protect myself enough to feel satisfied, thank you. Now, I came here to run a crop simulation, if you don't mind."

Liyar tilted his head down at her. "Very well," he said with a Sage Nod, and stepped back, once again placing his arms behind him. He looked the perfect picture of peace and serenity. A normal, benign Vulcan, save for the scratches on his face of course. He was about to walk out, at least that is what he looked to be doing, accepting that she could not handle this part of him and deciding it was not worth it to try and explain.

So it was completely unexpected when he rushed her, kicking her right leg out from under her and bracing his forearm against the top of her chest, smoothly gliding into snapping his hands at her shoulders, turning her body around and pressing an elbow into a spot at the center of her cervical axis that was not designed to damage her, or even pain her, but hit a nerve cluster that forced her downward. It didn't end there. With a sweep of his leg hooked under her opposite knee, he decimated any chance she had to regain her balance. At the multi-level attack, there was no way for her to avoid spinning over and landing hard as a sack of bricks. For a brief second, it looked like he was going to let her fall flat onto her face, but he caught her under the arm and lowered her to the ground gently. He still had her arm gripped in his hands in such a way that were she to struggle, it would cause her pain, but were she to remain still, it would not hurt. He was behind her now, standing over her, and he leaned down to speak in her ear quietly.

"Once again, Lieutenant, I beg to differ. You know no formal training beyond the child's play taught by Starfleet. Were you adequately prepared, you would have anticipated my response and countered it. There is no such a thing as unfair advantage. You are smart enough to learn any number of non-violent defensive techniques effectively against even myself. This vessel nearly fell prey on its very first mission. You are one of this crew's primary leaders. Not only do you have a duty to protect your subordinates, but it is your duty to protect yourself." That last bit seemed to transform his little speech from a lecture into something more personal. "You will not be harmed by another. It would..." -displease me, he thought, but cut himself off before adding it on.

"You're hurting me," she grumbled. When Maenad tried to use her free arm to push him away, a wave of pain jolted through her body. She couldn't move. "Get off," she urged him. Where did her PADD go? "Liyar, get off of me right now."

"You are capable of protecting yourself to the point of satisfaction, yes?" Liyar prompted, a lilting tone to his words that suggested he knew otherwise.

A second ago Maenad was numb to all of this, thinking that Liyar had proven his point and made her look like an idiot. Now, she was beginning to get upset. She struggled, but to no use. "Liyar!" she was now unquestionably angry. "This hurts! Get off of me!"

Liyar let go, allowing her to turn over and stand. His words of before had been almost humorous, though his expression with his eyes visible was different. A mixture of questioning and simultaneously imploring. "It is not about being an idiot. We were boarded two days ago. You cannot maintain a living in this environment without the awareness to defend yourself against it. You are correct," he granted softly. "It is repulsive that as sentient beings we can find no other alternative to hurting one another purposelessly. I have proven my point, but it is not in the way that you think." He looked away. "I have known people who could have been spared, had they possessed the knowledge to defend themselves. I saw a situation that could have been avoided. Had they believed it worthwhile to learn, had their attitude not resembled yours." It wasn't pointed, but neither was it mechanical. "I would offer to teach you, were you willing. You are the one who asked me how I would feel if you left. You were a target two days ago, Maenad. That was not a game." He knelt down and retrieved her PADD, offering it to her.

The mixed look of horror and disgust slowly dripped away from the shaken science officer's face. Maenad took the PADD before she straightened her skirt and top, scowling at him as she did so. "That was unfair," she snapped, tugging at the base of her jacket. Her hair was in total disarray, but she paid it no mind. If they had been under attack, she would have been ready. When she was among the crew, she felt safe. And when she was with Liyar, her friend, the last thing she expected was what he had just done. The test was downright unfair and he should have known it. But, she knew that he was right.

Liyar simply stood there, he knew he didn't even need to speak the rebuttal that came to mind. Life wasn't fair. SFI operatives didn't stop and ask if you were done with tea before snatching you up. He didn't speak yet, only nodded a little in concession.

His words, though, began to run through her mind. He didn't want her to leave. He didn't want her to get hurt, he didn't want her to die. Liyar wanted her to be able to defend herself so he wouldn't have to lose control of his emotions should anything ever happen to her. And, from a Vulcan, that meant something. He cared about her. He cared about her. And she hadn't missed that he had called her Maenad. Finally, a small smile started to grow on her thin lips. "That's," she started in a whisper, "That's very kind of you." She was now standing there across from him, morose. Then she laughed, like an admission that somehow she'd been the foolish one. "Even if I don't approve of violence, Liyar, that was pretty impressive. I wouldn't want anyone else to walk me home at night," she said quietly. "And you would teach me?"

"We live on a spaceship," Liyar pointed out, with all the same severity as usual and none of the ire. "As such, our homes are approximately twenty point seven four -"

Holding back a laugh, Maenad held up her hands. "Yes, yes - I get it," she stopped him. Vulcan humour was awful.

Liyar crossed his arms, eyes warmer for a moment before bowing his head forward once more. "Yes," he answered her above question. "I would teach you. If you would permit it. You may be familiar with something known as kheile'a," he started. "It is a form of the Old, devised in part by a man named Setnow. He was a direct descendant of Surak, and an early proponent of his philosophy. You are familiar with the to'tsu'k'hy, what you call the nerve pinch." He made a gesture with his hand. "That is one such application. It is an extremely versatile study, and there are no truly damaging moves."

Chewing on her lip, then sighing, she eventually looked at the ceiling, as if asking for help, and then conceded to him. "Fine," she said with a smile. "Fine."

"Very well," he cemented that, and congratulated himself on not sounding as particularly pleased as he was. He patted his own hair slightly and leaned over a little as though to suggest she had... several... dozen... stray hairs. "You have..."

Now what was he doing? "What?" she asked, trying to withhold a laugh. "Oh," she immediately got it after she'd asked. Quickly, she ran her fingers behind her ears and over her head, fixed her bangs and the hair over the back of her neck. "I would still be more comfortable if you left the safeties on, Liyar," she commented a moment later. "If you're to train me, then we should make a deal; you train me, you leave the safeties on."

Liyar did not Frown at that, but he stood for several moments as though actually weighing the ratio of that compromise. A word that, as a Vulcan, was not in his immediate vocabulary. He decided that the benefit to Maenad and therefore the resultant benefit to the situation entirely (he doesn't consider benefit to himself, because he is, obviously, only being totally logical) was higher than the loss of an actual projected target he could practice on. It was a loss, it would shift his neural perceptions and force his level of training down, which would have him at a lowered standard of readiness, but he would just have to train harder. He blinked and then spoke again, this time they were speaking a language Liyar did understand. "I believe the expression is, that is a deal?"

Maenad didn't think he got it quite right, but she couldn't properly recall the expression either. "Yes," she nodded, "we have a deal. But you should know," she was pointing at him now, "that I am only doing this because you said you'd worry if I didn't. And I don't want you telling anyone, either." The last thing she wanted was for people to speculate why she was taking self-defense training. She thought that it undermined everything she was.

Raising his finger a little in return, Liyar hesitantly poked his hand in her direction as though to copy her. His demeanor now was at contrast to the person before who was quite easily able to subdue her, and floor an opponent earlier with hardly any trouble. It was easy to believe the quixotic Vulcan had never done it at all, except for the slight marks that still marked his face and arms for it. He did not object to her terms, though he distinctly did not recall saying that he would worry. Just this once, he told himself, he would let it go. He could understand her need for privacy, he remembered telling her something similar once before. "As you wish," he said instead, pointing upward awkwardly, not really sure why they were pointing at all.

"Thank you," Maenad's smile faded. "Now, are you done in here, or do I have to run my simulations later?"

"Ah. Yes. I believe there was mention of," he paused and blinked, "Crops. I shall resume my training at a later time," he conceded, as work was priority over not. He collected himself and glanced over to her again before ducking his head in farewell.

Maenad brought her attention back to the PADD in her hand. "Computer, load program Panne Sestus Crop Projection One." Liyar's program shimmered away into a field of grains along a riverside, beneath a yellowish sky. A gentle wind blew; Maenad held her hand up to shield from the sun. She could see Liyar making his way toward the arch, some distance from her now, and she was suddenly struck with a an overpowering sense of sadness. She had come in here, ruined his proactive self-defense course, shouted at him for doing something that she didn't approve of, and then criticised him for only thinking of her. She pressed her lips, now raising her head to match her already raised eyes.

"Mister Liyar!" she called, starting to walk hurriedly after him, before breaking into a full chase. When she caught up to him, she slowed to a stop. The breeze and the bounce of her sprint ruined had her hair. "I," she said, moving some strands that had blown into her face, including one that had stuck in the corner of her mouth. "I just wanted to thank you, again, for thinking of me." Ever since the counsellor's reminder that she was a prime target for, well, the bad guys she knew that self-defense training might not have been that terrible of an idea.

Liyar paused as he heard her shout and turned around in time to nearly be bowled over, neatly sidestepping to prevent that from happening and bowing his head down at her slightly. He could feel and see the warmth of the sky, ground underneath his feet, but he couldn't feel the telltale signs of Life underneath. It was a projection, and to him it was very obvious, as if someone had drawn a two dimensional picture and dropped him in. But it was pleasant enough scenery. "You are welcome," he said the customary response. He took in her disheveled appearance with a benign blink. "You are my friend," he could only say of it outright. "It is logical."

She gave him a bright and full smile of her white teeth. She didn't know what to say, and she felt a little foolish for having ran after him, but she was here now and had to do something. "Would you," she looked over her shoulder toward the river and the grain field, "Would you like to assist me? It's not all that interesting, but I have been working on a solution for the colonists on Sestus III." She looked at her PADD, but kept darting her eyes up to his as she spoke. "They have contaminated their natural supply of water by means of a flawed irrigation system of their crops. We have already come up with a solution to decontaminate their water, which has become incredibly acidic," she looked up at him and paused for a moment. "But I need to come up with a solution to prevent this from happening again. I think I've accomplished this, but I would value a second opinion," she grinned. "And then, after, you can start to train me."

He had heard of Sestus III, the last time he'd paid attention to the Federation news feeds he'd been under the impression that several of their crop settlements were failing. He'd been unaware that Maenad was working on the problem, and her research or at least what he could see of it looked interesting. "Very well," he acquiesced when she was through. He rose a hand toward the river rushing in the distance, meeting her eyes directly while they spoke with little reservation. "I shall endeavor to assist you," he agreed as they began walking back through the fields. He found he really either didn't understand, or simply wasn't interested much in the actual scientific method of mixing and filtering, but it didn't matter much in the end. He had taken on the more calming quality of presence that surrounded him in more casualness, a sense of acceptance and ease about things, listening to her speak and explain and offering more technical advice where it was (rarely) needed.

OFF:

Lieutenant (JG) Maenad Panne
Chief Science Officer, SSC
USS Galileo

Lieutenant (JG) Liyar
Diplomatic Officer, VDF/SDD
USS Galileo

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