Hands-On Leadership

Posted on Mon Nov 23rd, 2015 @ 6:57pm by Captain Charybdis MacGregor

0 words; about a 1 minute read

Mission: Taking Chances
Location: USS Bonne Chance, Deck 7, Gymnasium
Timeline: 2265
Tags: bonnechance,spy

Lieutenant Charybdis contemplated the viewscreen of the computer terminal in her quarters. While the ship's libraries were not fully accessible to her- to remedy that she would have to check in with the Chief Science Officer, whom she had discovered was, in fact, not her. But she did have limited access to some files, which included profiles for the crew of the Bonaventure, and she was currently studying.

Despite her atrocious Starfleet Academy record, Charybis was a firm believer in research, for so very many reasons. And not knowing whom to expect when approaching the senior staff and department heads around the ship put her at a tactical disadvantage... but one that was now easily remedied. She did not have access to psychological profiles, but the duty rosters, races and service records were easily accessible without intrusion even with basic level access, so she spent a few moments in her quarters familiarizing herself and formulating strategies before venturing forth again to seek out the crew of the Bonaventure, to secure her new position.

The Executive Officer presented something of a curiosity to her, she realized as she curled a lock of her long dark brown hair idly around her index finger, a habit she had been unable to break since it had grown out. He was from a technologically primitive culture who valued honor and honestly, who eschewed medical arts as 'weakness'- yet he was a medical doctor. Like most of his race he enjoyed combat and was apparently married... to a Vulcan...? One with a rather interesting name, she noted... not that she had much room to talk. It had been her understanding that that non-Vulcan pairings were rare, rarer still for them to produce offspring and live on Vulcan, but apparently this one did.

Curious and curioser indeed.

Her relationship with Lieutenant Commander Henri Clay, the Executive Officer of the Antares, had begun poorly and degraded from there to downright antagonistic. Charybdis simply could not help herself- the man was hypocritical, a coward, a slow and dull-witted thinker who had risen to the position he commanded only through plodding perseverance. In short, there was nothing to respect about him, yet he demanded it all the same.

She was determined to do better with this XO, she had decided. An enigma and a curiosity to her, yes, but there were key elements that she hoped would work in her favor. He regularly scheduled time in the ship's gymnasium for workouts, and taught a hand-to-hand class three times per week. That meant there was at least one level upon which they could connect, and with that in mind she changed out of her uniform and into the standard Starfleet workout uniform- shorts which matched the color of the officer's uniform (in her case, the bright blue of Science), and a tight-fitting black top designed to allow freedom of movement with no sleeves, what was still referred to for some reason as a 'tank top'.

Charybdis had, of course, purchased hers one size too small for her voluptuous frame. After all, they were made of the same stretchy and forgiving material as the uniforms, so she was in no danger of destroying them through movement. And even if she had bought them to fit, they would either be too loose around the waist or too tight across her rear and bust... apparently tailoring such garments was just too difficult for the modern tailor. However, the psychological edge that they tended to grant her was considerable, and well worth it.

She was not on duty as yet, still in the grace period of checking into the command, so approaching the XO in less than the standard uniform should ideally not count against her. And it would clearly demonstrate to him that she was not the most conventional officer, which would lay the groundwork for their relationship and grant him insight into her character before he ever worked with her. And it would be hand-to-hand combat, with which he excelled, where she was no amateur herself.

She had formulated her strategy based on logic, and felt confident as she strode out the door, endowments bouncing as she moved down the corridors, causing considerable distraction as she headed to the turbolift in her padded gym shoes.

Sadly, logic was not the science officer's strong point...

Commander Ak'ahar directed the computer to establish voice and manual controls for entry to the gym, "Please post higher gravity warning for gymnasium, require verbal or manual visual acknowledgement for non-verbal species, and require manual operation of door mechanism to ensure compliance. Do not allow entry by any non-crew member without prior authorization. Do not allow entry by any 'pet' regardless of species."

"Working," the emotionally neutral feminine voice replied, "Warning sign for high gravity and intergalactic icon for high gravity posted, voice acknowledgment of same required, security protocol adopted preventing unauthorized entry established, manual operation of door circuit required."

Hopefully that would prevent somebody's damn cat or gerbil or Denebian slime devil from getting itself crushed underfoot by participants for the scheduled training.

"Computer, inform engineering and operations I am raising gravity in the gym to one point five standard Terran gravities."

"Working, operations and engineering have been notified."

Mac toggled the wall communication panel, "Environmental Control."

"E.C. here," an earnest male voice replied.

"Commander Ak'Ahar here, I am in gymnasium two, Deck three, please adjust gravity rating to one point five standard Terran. All warnings have been posted and protocols are in place."

"Aye, aye, Commander, commencing adjustment now. Have a good workout."

"Thank you, E.C., check back with me here, in two hours if I have not already instructed the gravity to be returned to ship-normal."

"Yes sir, noting that in the log and setting auto-reminder."

As the gravity smoothly adjusted to Capellan norm, Mac began his stretching routine. It was unusual to see too many students join him in the gymnasium on any vessel. A few Vulcans practicing with hand to hand or traditional weapons like the lirpa and security personnel or simple martial arts enthusiasts were the usual draw for these classes. This was a new ship, and Mac wondered who could be coming to join him.

Charybdis eyed the warning sign with some apprehension... one point five gravity. Definitely more than she was accustomed to working in for some time now, and it would put her at a distinct disadvantage. Her center of gravity would be off, her strength would not be quite as remarkable as it was under the lighter one point zero gravity of federation vessels as opposed to her homeworld, and her endurance would be somewhat lesser.

In short, a level playing field. She grinned... if this was the Capellan XO's doing, she liked him already.

She pressed the door control, only to hear the computer's voice. "Verbal recognition of acknowledgement of higher gravity protocol required."

Curious. "Lieutenant Charybdis, acknowledging higher gravity protocols, cycle open gymnasium door," she said aloud.

The computer once again whirred and its mechanical voice expressed, "Acknowledged. Manual operation of door circuit required." Charybdis' face set in a somewhat thoughtful expression, her full lips pursed. My my, she thought to herself...if this was him, then he covered all of the bases. A stickler for details, perhaps... or just very, very thorough. Time for her to find out. She pressed the manual override on the door once more, holding it for the requisite two seconds before the door slid open, somewhat more sluggishly than usual.

The door whooshed announcing Mac's first student. He turned and saw what paralanguage told him was an 'unconventional' Vulcan female. He had of course, met a few living in the 'expatriate' area of Vulcan, those Vulcans who for one reason or another either never adopted Surak's teaching or had rejected them out of hand. Mac had even fathered a child with a very exoplanetary Vulcan but he had never served with one in Star Fleet.

This had to be Lieutenant Charybdis; as a good Executive Officer, Mac had studied all the crews' dossiers and an 'Anti-Reformationist' or V'tosh ka'tur, was unusual anywhere and as far as Mac could tell unique in Star Fleet. Her figure was remarkably voluptuous in an almost 'human' fashion but was entirely 'Vulcan'.

He had expected her to be unconventional; he had not expected her to be quite so 'present'. Part of it had to be that she was cheerfully unselfconscious in a way few young Vulcans could achieve. However, Mac suspected that much of her personal charisma was due to her Vulcan psyche unfettered by constant self-monitoring as most Vulcans habitually practiced, especially in public. His eyebrows rose slightly at the tank-top and shorts that left little to the imagination. Fortunately, like most Capellan males the 'gallant reflex' was subsumed by the desire for combat which was the first step in Capellan mating rituals.

"Peace and Long Life, Lieutenant Charybdis," Mac greeted her in his slightly 'academic' Vulcan. He spoke Vulcan without an accent but the effort left him sounding pedantic. Of course, most Vulcans sounded like pedantic snobs so it evened out.

The curvaceous lieutenant's left eyebrow rose, and she looked him over. It was hard to tell if she was seeking weakness in his defenses, admiring his body, registering surprise at his form of address or just taking in the sheer size of his personage. In truth, it was all of the above, and she prowled across the room at a langurious pace until she was quite inside his personal space. From there she slowly looked up at him, then grinned and raised her palm to him, fingers splayed in the traditional greeting.

"Dif tor heh smusma, Commander Ak'Ahar," she expressed breathily, her own Vulcan almost sloppy in comparison, sounding for lack of a better phrase like a country cousin. This close, it was impossible not to have the size difference between them clearly illustrated. Charybdis, at 1.75m tall, was accustomed to meeting eye to eye, or reasonably close, with most humanoid males. But this one... rugged, handsome features, an imposing build that made him look like a wall of muscle... she wasn't that fond of the ponytail, but she couldn't see it from down here anyway.

Idly she found herself wondering if everything was proportionate when she realized that she had been holding the salute a little too long, and the accompanying grin had started to slide into a leer.

Mac felt the unrestrained emotion shine from Charybdis like the midday sun. He clamped down on his own response and strengthened his mental defenses. Unlike human emotions, unless restrained by strict discipline, Vulcan emotions projected with the force of a telepathic species. Which is probably why both our species can be so violent, Mac mused.

Any visceral reaction to the beautiful lieutenant Mac repressed ruthlessly. He was First Officer of a Starship and despite his youthful 'indiscretions' during his academy years, responsibility and duty came first. Which meant essentially that his crew mates were off limits in any kind of sexual or romantic relationship. Mac felt a brief empathy with the notorious womanizer Kirk, No wonder he picks up a girl on every planet.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Mac replied in Federation standard English. "Please begin your stretching exercises and warm up." Seeing her rather curvy frame Mac felt compelled to ask, "How long has it been since you have exercised in greater than standard gravity? We are at Capellan-standard now which is approximately," one always qualified a statement to a Vulcan unless the answer was complete to the last decimal point or you were inviting a lengthy correction, "one point zero seven Vulcan standard. It may feel familiar but it is greater than your frame is normally adapted for."

The voluptuous Vulcan had been walking away, but stopped cold and slowly turned back to face him as he spoke, eyes narrowing and brows knitting together. Like a switch had been flipped, she no longer seemed playful and cheerful, but downright furious.

"I have passed every physical fitness test regularly every three months with exemplary scores... SIR..." she growled through gritted teeth. "While my last command didn't have the capacity for specific higher gravity training..."

At this, the lieutenant did a handstand, taking a few seconds to steady herself, then split-scisorred her legs forward and back nearly to the floor before leaning one leg far back with one bent forward, not unlike an impala and held it for a four count. She then leaned her legs forward over her head and used the momentum to tuck expertly into a roll, coming up facing him in a three-point stance with one leg splayed to the side. He could tell she had planned to end it as just two points and to be fully standing at the end of that stunt, but the greater gravity had still driven her to need the third point of her hand and one knee for balance. She stood easily enough, though, and looked none the worse for wear.

"I think you'll find that I'm more than up to the task. Sir." She was making the attempt, but she was doing a lousy job of keeping her feelings to herself. She had definitely taken the question as an insult... not unlike asking a woman if she had put on weight.

A flash of anger at her ignoring personal safety crossed through the big Capellan then it was just as quickly evaporated by admiration and an appreciation of her as a woman. If the two of them were on Kohath, he would be looking for her nearest male relative to challenge. Good thing I am XO, she'd be tough to maintain distance otherwise.

Mac tossed back his head and laughed showing teeth like a young lion surveying his domain, "Ah, well done lieutenant," he congratulated her sincerely.

"Not quite Academy gymnastic team standards but very serviceable." to say nothing of the risk involved in attempting such a maneuver. A sprained wrist or popped elbow was the least of the worries. Humans could easily break a neck in this gravity.

"Finish your stretching and lets get warmed up," Mac said all business now, "looks like we should be doing some striking practice today. I'll program the sparring dummy while you get ready."

The limber lieutenant grinned broadly, the defensive anger of a few seconds ago already evaporated. "Absolutely, sir!" she replied, and promptly set about working her way through her stretches and warmups. She was still keeping an eye on the towering Commander as she did so. Ooooh, I like this one... strong, secure, fit for command... now let's see if he fights as well as he looks, she thought to herself. Outwardly she continued her stretches, displaying rare flexibility for a Vulcan. Adipose tissue had its uses, after all, particularly when it came to lengthening muscle and connective tissues, and Charybdis had rather carefully sculpted her form.

When she was finished, she looked around, actually twisting at the waist to check the door, demonstrating to Mac that those rather minsicule shorts could still somehow get smaller. If she was wearing underwear apparently it was minimal, he could not help but notice as her rear end worked on devouring her somewhat inadequate shorts.

"It looks like just you and me, Commander... whatever shall we do first, hmmmm?" Her eyebrows were both up, as if she were feigning innocence, eyes large and bright as she practically purred the words, reinforcing to him that this one ran hot and cold and every temperature in between.

Mac readied the androids and checked their programming. Good... ready to go.

Just as he turned to find the Vulcan displaying more skin than was normal outside Betazed or certain slave blocks in the Orion sphere of influence, a trio of Security personnel came through the door. Despite efforts to gender integrate the front line security elements most security officers were men. All three were Terran men and from the expressions, humans still had the instincts of their primate forefathers. Fortunately, they were wearing the long wraparound tunics that provided concealment for semaphoric responses.

Charybdis pouted in Mac's direction, just long enough for him to register the expression before half-turning to wiggle her fingers in greeting at the Security officers as she smiled sweetly. She was disarming them before ever making a single move, lowering their defenses. And it is working magnificently, he noted. Might have to focus on distraction techniques in a future class.

"Good of you to join us," Mac said, then coughed discretely to get their attention drawing their eyes away from the exposure of curvaceous flesh. "Gentleman, and lady, we are working on striking today. This is a high-G course, we'll work on the androids, I have them programmed to represent the three racial/species of Klingon."

Mac drew his knife and used the point to 'point' out the weak spots on the Klingon anatomy, "Those human-vulcan forms fighting Klingons frequently find themselves striking useless or marginal targets. We'll begin with palm heel strikes to the jaw, that is simply to set up the next strike but necessary to exposing the more vulnerable areas in this attack."

Charybdis' mercurial moods shifted once more, and gone was the playfully flirtatious body language. Her weight had shifted... she was balanced and set, and clearly combat ready. Her fingers flexed, released and flexed again as she rolled her shoulders, brought her guard up and lowered her head. She was completely ignoring the beefy terrans behind her now- she seemed to be ignoring the towering XO as well, for that matter. Her brows were knitted, her lip set in a snarl and for all the world she looked like a berserker awaiting the call to battle as she shifted her weight restlessly in her position.

Mac noticed the change, but was curious to see how it would play out. "Lieutenant, would you like to..."

Before he finished the statement she had crossed the distance with a forward shoulder roll and come up directly in front of the 'klingon' in the middle, deep inside his guard with the palm strike that had been the object of the lesson. Her left hand grabbed the 'disruptor' hand and pointed it at the 'klingon' on the left, firing point-blank into his chest while her right foot lashed out, striking the 'klingon' on the right with a brutal side attack that snapped his right knee, crippling him. Her weight shifted again and she flipped the center 'klingon' over her shoulder, still controlling the 'disruptor' to dislocate the arm holding it, which she then used to shoot the 'klingon' on the right using the crippled hand. She shifted her position to stand with her foot poised over the throat of the 'klingon' on his back, and just before she could deliver the killing strike was when Mac spoke up.

"Matte!" he barked in his 'command' voice, the one he reserved for taking control of situations. The Vulcan lieutenant was obviously judo trained at the academy, though not all of those moves were neccessarily traditional judo. He assumed that the judo command to 'stop' would work, and he was correct- she stopped short of crushing the last 'klingon's' windpipe by about a centimeter. She turned to look at him and he could see the haze clearing. This one's a hellcat indeed, he thought to himself. If she's this passionate about everything, note to self- make sure never to work out alone with her or she will be some serious trouble. Definitely no wrestling or grappling practice...

As if in illustration of his internal dialogue, she removed the 'distruptor' from the crippled hand and sauntered over to him, extending her hand to playfully offer it on her open palm with a sly smile. "Too much?"

Taking in the still-shocked expressions of the three Security personnel in attendance who seemed a tad unsettled by the sudden outburst of deadly violence in a training exercise, Mac made a sideways smirk. "Maybe just a little. So how about we practice focusing on the specific form of the exercise, and try to keep the Klingon homicide statistics down a bit for now?"

She laughed easily and musically, then blushed a bit of sage at the cheeks as she took a short bow to him. This served to snap the Security officers behind her out of shock by thoroughly distracting them once again. When she came back up slowly he saw that look in her eye that he knew all too well. He was not threatened by her, but impressed... and that turned her on. That look was one of a predatory female on the hunt for a mate, and he was now the prey.

He grinned. She wouldn't succeed, but then, she probably wouldn't give up all that easily, either. This promised to be an interesting duty assignment after all...

 

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