Amazon Posse Training

Posted on Mon Feb 11th, 2019 @ 11:48am by Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox & Commander Rita Paris & Hera

Mission: Earthly Visitation
Location: USS Hera, Deck 11, Gymnasium 1
Timeline: 2396

While she tended to make breakfast for herself and Sonak as part of their morning routine, which was time spent together that both of them enjoyed, and dinner was an affair that was sometimes scheduled and sometimes ‘catch as catch can’, Commander Rita Paris tended to take lunch in the Officer’s Mess on Deck 9. As such, it gave her the opportunity to mix and mingle with other officers and take something of a barometer of what was going on about the Hera.

Not much of one, as for the most part conversations became muted or ended when she got near, as for the most part lower ranking officers tended to regard higher ranking officers as sharks in the water. It had always been thus, and Rita had long ago grown accustomed to the fact. But she eavesdropped like a pro while appearing to read her notes while she ate her soup and salad that she tended to take as a midday meal.

Today, however, it seemed Lieutenant Dox was amongst those dining at the same time, so she wouldn’t be dining alone. Sliding into the seat opposite the portly pilot, who was reviewing something on a PaDD of her own, Rita waggled her eyebrows in greeting as she waited for the redheaded Romulan’s attention to refocus.

Pulling her eyes up from her PaDD, Dox smiled at Paris' somewhat exaggerated expression. "Oh, hello Commander." She pushed a button to save her work and put her PaDD down.

“Lieutenant,” the ebullient executive replied, picking up her spoon and poking at her soup. “What’s got you occupied over lunch?

"Oh, just scheduling time for flight tests of the new engine upgrades for the Thor and the Selune. I'm looking forward to feeling them out, but also need to rotate the rest of the flight crew and make sure everyone's up to speed on the revisions." Dox talked while dunking a corner of an English muffin into her stew.

"And what's on your agenda for the day?" Dox asked in response.

“I have the marvelous responsibility of testing out the new Security recruits and ranking their unarmed combat capability. I suppose I’ll have to fall back on my Master At Arms for it, since he seems to be a fan of more than just judo. I’m one step shy of useless in hand to hand, so this is not going to be one of those moments where I win the respect of my subordinates through dazzling skill.” Rita paused to take a spoonful of the weird thick lumpy green soup she had chosen for lunch. “So that should be a lot of fun for me.”

"You don't sound... enthused with you options, Commander." Dox took a bite of her freshly dunked muffin. "Is Chief Riley not the right person for the job?" Chewing, Dox tilted her head, suspecting that this was more than just a casual lunch conversation.

"Eh, I'm sure he is, it's just..." Rita's voice dropped to a level that only someone with particularly acute hearing would be able to understand. "Riley's been in Starfleet as long as I have, and I think he's a bit past his prime. So I kind of don't mind him having to show all the young toughs how to do submission holds and power punches and whatever else it is that martial artists do, but I don't know that I want him sparring with them too much. I'm sure as hell not sparring with them or they'll never respect me, once they figure out how girly I am."

While Dox figured Rita was likely selling herself short, she also understood the predicament she was in as their Commander. The red-headed Romulan ate a spoonful of stew while she pondered Paris' predicament.

After a few seconds of awkward silence save for the sound of chewing, Dox replied. "I don't know how useful it would be, but I can..." She paused awkwardly mid sentence... "I can come and help with the sparring or... whatever... If you want."

That got her an upraised eyebrow from the bombshell blonde as she picked up her PaDD and began tapping at it. "Well, I did see the medical reports on Asa's kidnappers, and you certainly put them in critical condition. Say here you are adept in the Romulan martial art of Llaekh-ae'rl. So, pardon the ignorant Earthling, but that sounds a little more intimidating than Starfleet Judo class?"

"It's... My mother started teaching me... well... before she started showing me how to fly ships. Sometimes business simply had to be conducted on the ship and she wanted to make sure I was prepared for any... situations." As usually was the case, the stout pilot was a little anxious talking about herself.

"It's... very aggressive. It's direct translation is 'laughing murder' and it's gotten me out of a few situations I'd have rather not been in." Dox took a sip of her tea as she spoke.

"Can you teach it? At least teach a top five useful moves class? Give them all an unexpected edge?" Rita boiled the idea down quickly into a workable plan. "I need a good opener with these people. The security department is 46, the tactical response team is back up to 12 thanks to a fortuitous graduation of the Starfleet SEAL program. Turns out when you say 'do you want to work for Starfleet Intelligence', it's either hard yes or no, period."

"I've got to call the assembly, give a speech, let my people know they are embroiled in a war of cosmic beings, show them to their duty, then someone needs to teach them something amazing that inspires them to be bold and confident and hopefully smart. So... y'busy?" Paris beamed an innocent smile at Mnhei'sahe Dox, and batted her eyes.

Dox grinned in her usual, crooked, awkward way as she responded. "I've... never tried teaching it before. But I can certainly try." She took a sip of her tea. "And I'm only as busy as my First Officer says, I suppose. I can make some time."

"Great!" In a series of spoonfuls, the fulsome first officer finished her soup in about fifteen seconds, then proceeded to jam her salad into her mouth one forkful at a time in rapid succession, swallowing a few times as she got up, taking her tray over to the reclamator and dropping the tray, silverware and dishes in where they would be broken down and used again and again in an amazing display of recycling. Chewing and swallowing, Paris sat back down at the table, folded her hands neatly before her and smiled pleasantly.

"Now is good. I've got that presentation in about three minutes on Deck 11. I'm gonna wing the speech, but that's no surprise to anyone. Meet me down there or walk with me?"

Taking a last sip to finish off her tea, Dox wiped her face and collected her tray for the reclamator. "I'll walk with. It's a good warm up." She replied with a smile, placing her tray to be recycled.

A cheerful grin settled onto the face of the first officer as she turned to exit. "Always dependable Miss Dox, most appreciated. Simpson, don't dawdle, I expect that report by 13:00 hours, because I will have my inventory before we cast off, mister."

Marching out of the officer's mess roughly 4 minutes after she'd walked in, Paris moved with the steady cadence of a marching pace, which made it easy for others familiar with marching to fall into step with her, as it was drilled into cadets on the drill field in Starfleet Academy. "Well gosh, I'm not sure how many photon torpedoes they sent us ma'am. Did you want to send them back? "

"The one thing that will apparently brand me as an anachronism far more than my uniform is apparently my adherence to the idea that we are in fact a military organization with a rank structure, primarily because we are entrusted with large scale matter replicators, transporters and the capacity to deliver things like quantum torpedoes. I'd prefer the civilian populace and the amateurs not be toying with such things. Which includes incompetent officers. But hopefully setting expectations will make this work." The first officer muttered as she marched along, aware that her sharp-eared companion could hear her clearly.

"I'll do whatever I can to help in this regard, Commander." Dox replied, keeping pace beside Paris having become quite adept at matching the First Officer's stride in spite of her much shorter legs.

"5 good moves they can use, preferably submission moves. I don't need kill-crazed, I need confident and capable. Beyond that," Paris arrived at the turbolift and pressed the button. "I need to inspire them. But I think I've got an idea..."

"Submission moves I can do, Commander. Inspiration is your arena. I'll follow your lead, as always." Dox replied with a sly but subtle grin.

Striding into the gymnasium, the first thing that struck them was the ratio of females to males in the security force. There were now 13 males, and the rest were females. A Klingon pair who looked like sisters stood off to one side, arms crossed and scowling. Two Vulcans females were now part of the security team, as were a trio of Andorians. An Efrosian woman was present, as was a Deltan female and a Bajoran male and female. A trill woman was present, as were a voluptuous Orion female and a pair of male Orion officers. A Caitain stood watching everyone in the room, calico fur bristled and tail switching. A Nausicaan stood near the back, tall and gangly and aloof, whom Rita was reasonably certain was Crewman Squirf'd, the first Nausicaan to join Starfleet. Everyone else in Gymnasium 1 was humanoid save for the Saurian of indeterminate gender, at least to Rita. Taking them all in as she entered, a pair of large and impressively muscled yet clearly female specimens were braced to either side of Hera, who looked somewhat bemused to be present and under such practically neanderthalic guard.

"Good day. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Commander Paris. Yes, they're real, I know it's short, and no, you don't have to wear one," she opened with, which got a few chuckles from the assemblage. "This is my old uniform from when I served back in 2268, during the era of the five year missions. It marks me as an antique, as a very old fashioned officer. That is not accidental. Because you will find me to be very old-fashioned. I skipped all the years between then and now, so I'm a genuine throwback to my time."

"Which means that I believe in things. I believe in things like honor, duty, sacrifice, the greater good, the Prime Directive, and the fact that when the night is dark and all hope is gone, Starfleet can show up and save the day. I believe that we're out here to do some good in the galaxy, and often that means there is some brave soul who has to be there doing the job. Usually that brave soul wears Security gold."

"I believe that Starfleet is a promise- nobody is expendable and everybody comes home." Paris paused to emphasize this point, making eye contact with each person in the room.

"When our shipmates call for Security, they expect a response team to arrive on the scene immediately and be prepared to assess and deal with with any situation, follow lawful orders and be the reliable, stoic backbone of Starfleet. We... you, me, her, him, we're the heroes. I greatly prefer words and communication as a solution to problems. And I will expect all of you to approach situations the same way. But when diplomacy fails and words turn to angry shots fired, that's when we shine. When the terrorist tries to sneak into the peace talks and we stop them before they ever get close, that means we did our jobs."

"In case you are wondering, this," Rita gestured to the graceful toga-wearing woman standing amidst the sea of gold uniforms, "is Hera. THE Hera, the goddess of legend who is in our custody as an advisor. I brought her down here today so that you can all get a good look at her and familiarize yourself with who she is and what position she holds on this starship. Many of you will spend time on guard duty outside her quarters. Hera is not a prisoner- you are posted there to protect her. We live in a universe of transporters and shapeshifters and image inducers and we are in a war with gods and titans playing dice with the universe. So a duty that many of you will share is to protect the ship's namesake, who is our guide to the weirdness of the universe. Hera is to be treated as a dignitary, not a prisoner. Regardless, even were she a prisoner, you would treat her respect and dignity, as Starfleet treats all prisoners. Am I clearly understood?"

There was a general assent throughout the hall, so Rita nodded and continued, pacing as she did so.

"Yes. you heard me right. War with gods. Many of the legends of our various worlds have basis in fact, and here stands one of them, live and in person," Rita gestured to Hera, who offered a queenly wave. "We've been drawn into a brewing conflict that could destroy the galaxy, and this is what you've signed on for. I've prepared briefing reports for you all, so before you decide the first officer's a crazy old lady, maybe see where we've been and done before you got here. Then you can decide if the Commander is cuckoo or if you signed on for a very exciting assignment."

"Everyone will be fitted with the advanced EVA armor, and trained on our ship-specific weaponry. I expect my security force to be well armed and well prepared, and you will all be master marksmen by the time we're through, if you are not already. And everyone will of course be expected to hold their own in hand to hand. To that end, I have today invited Lieutenant Dox to join us." At this Rita gestured to draw attention to the stout starpilot waiting patiently in the wings while Rita did her thing.

"Lieutenant Dox is a Romulan, and a master of the Romulan martial art of Llaekh-ae'rl. If you dislike Romulans, if you have a grudge against them, or if you personally feel that they do not belong in Starfleet, see yourself out now. Because we are a very large Federation of planets, and I have zero tolerance for bigots. Let's make that clear here and now. We do not discriminate according to race, species, color, creed, planet of origin or gender. This is Starfleet, and if you've made it this far you damn well better know what we stand for. If you have any doubts, I'm here to remind you, because the Security force of the USS Hera will distinguish itself through bravery, dedication, and service. I will accept nothing less. If you have a differing opinion, now is the time to make it known, because you can be transferred off before we leave the Sol system."

No one walked out, and Rita was reasonably pleased.

"All right then," the cheerful commander beamed a smile at the assemblage of security officers, pleased by the response. "Let's start on our heroes journey, shall we, by learning some moves from a martial art seldom shared outside Romulus. Miss Dox, you have the floor, if you please?" With that, Commander Paris stepped off to the side to cede the focus to the chief flight control officer.

Stepping up, Dox stared at the assemblage of potential new security officers and her stomach flipped upside down. Her general anxiety was ramped up to thirteen as she looked around the room with her hands behind her back.

After a slightly awkwardly long ten seconds of silence, Dox took a deep breath and pushed out her words. "Llaekh-ae'rl... is translated to mean 'laughing murder', and it's named this for a reason. It's... designed to be an extremely fast and effective way to neutralize an opponent. And it generally means that they aren't going to be getting back up afterwards."

Looking around the room, the short, stout pilot saw looks of disregard and a few smirks here and there. "However, we can also adapt the lessons for our uses in Starfleet. What I'll be sharing with you today is a series of defensive and submission maneuvers that can be very effective on almost any humanoid opponent. I'll need... Uh... I'll need a volunteer."

One of the Vulcan officers stepped forward, a slight woman with no sideburns, black hair cut in straight bangs over her eyes and a bowl cut around the rest of her head. About the same height as Dox, she was much slimmer, to the point of being petite. "I wish to learn this technique. How may I assist?" the expressionless security officer asked.

A slight smile crept onto Dox's face as the scenario might be ideal for what she wanted at this point. "Thank you. The first thing I would like would be to show a number of submission holds and maneuvers slowly. If you could stand about half a meter in front of me."

As the slight Vulcan stepped into position, Dox addressed the room. "More often than not, you will likely find yourself facing an opponent who is either larger or stronger than you are. Llaekh-ae'rl is designed to neutralize some of those advantages through speed and leverage to even a playing field as much as possible."

Turning back to the Vulcan security officer, Dox continued. "Please, place your hand on my chest as if to reach for, or grab me, Miss..." Dox paused for the officers name.

"I am Petty Officer second class T'vala, Lieutenant Dox. I come to serve," the Vulcan security officer replied, then, her weight balanced evenly, she placed her hand on the chest of the redheaded Romulan obligingly, her dark brown eyes observant and patient. It was clear that she herself was no amateur from the way that she moved.

"Thank you, Petty Officer T'vala." Dox replied. "Once a potential opponent has made virtually any move against you, even one as nondescript as this, they have opened themselves up. As a general rule, always allow them to make the first move. It gives you information and it gives you opportunity."

With nerves slowly being overcome as she spoke, Dox was getting slightly more comfortable. "Place your hand over your opponent's like this." Dox reached her right hand over T'vala's, with her thumb planted over the back of the Vulcan's and her fingers wrapped around the side of the the palm.

"From here, we begin twisting our opponent's wrist over. As they lean forward, with a stiff palm, apply pressure here, just above their elbow to keep their arm straight as you are applying pressure to the wrist." Dox slowly showed the maneuver as her Vulcan assistant allowed her to, obligingly. "As you pull them forward, they will be off balance. Shift on your hips and turn slightly, bringing your left leg under their right shin. Do all of this in one motion, and you can redirect the momentum of a much stronger opponent to the ground."

Dox released the grip on T'vala's arm. "Thank you. Now, let's run through that again at speed, please. Replicate the action as if you were quickly reaching for me." The two women reset their positions as T'vala reached quickly forward for Dox's chest. But before her hand made contact, Dox was in motion.

Repeating the actions described, Dox grabbed the Vulcan's hand, twisting it over and pulling her off balance as she swept her to her knees on the mat, forcing her arm to lock straight. "With someone of T'vala's strength, I can likely only hold them like this for a moment, but it's a moment enabling you to control the next move."

Releasing her grip, Dox helped the Petty officer up. "Thank you again, you may return."

"Would you like for me to replicate the move, Lieutenant Dox?" When she acquiesced, the Vulcan security officer replayed the move with Dox as the attacker, demonstrating she had at least absorbed it. The rest of the security force was watcxhing, at least. Paris was watching the crowd, to see who was paying attention and who was not.

Then Dox addressed the room. "The amount of control that wrist hold will give you depends on exactly how much force you apply. A little force causes significant pain. Enough to discourage most opponents from trying to wriggle free. Too much force and you risk breaking their wrist. As we progress, I'll show each of you how much is enough."

Looking around the room, Dox wasn't looking forward to what she knew she was going to say next. "T'vala represented an opponent far stronger then me. Now I need someone much bigger. Shouldn't be hard, I'm usually the shortest person in any given room." She ended with a light joke which got a few chuckles as she waited for a volunteer.

"I will stand to oppose you," one of the Klingon women in the mustard uniforms stepped forward. Striding through the crowd to step into Dox's personal space, looming perhaps 33 cm over the compact chief, the Klingon security officer glowered down at Romulan pilot. "S'Rina, daughter of Wil'Iam, petty officer third class. I bench 130 kilos, and I am a master of Mok'bara. Show me your strength, romuluSngan!"

That said, she slid easily down into a combat ready pose.

Having expected this, Dox sighed lightly. "My name is Lieutenant Dox, Petty Officer S'Rina." Dox stood with her arms behind her back, and her expression as neutral as possible.

"And this is a demonstration, not a sparring match. I would be more than happy to accommodate that on our own time if you would like," Dox kept her tone and posture professional, but firm. "But for now, let's stay focused."

The large and beefy Klingon woman offered a slight nod of deference, and waited for the demonstration instruction.

Addressing the room, Dox continued, though she felt a bit of nervousness over if she would be a to successfully pull anything off against her looming voulenteer. "The first lesson in a confrontation like this is to do everything in your power to avoid it.. Don't rush in or lunge at an opponent with a thirty plus centimeter reach advantage on you. Instead, make them come to you where you have an opportunity to turn your disadvantage into theirs."

Turning back towards her Klingon volunteer, standing about a meter and a half away, Dox continued. "Please, reach for my neck or head."

Moving slowly so that the demonstration could continue, the beefy Klingon took a step forward and overreached to grasp Mnhei'sahe's shoulder with a hand that was nearly the size of said shoulder. While she made contact, this was a fresh graduate of the Academy enlisted program as well as Security subtraining, and her contact was light, only enough to let the Romulan instructor know she was there.

Trying not to think about the tension building in her stomach, Dox continued speaking in a measured tone. "At this point, your opponent is reaching for you or, as is seen, has already made contact. Place one hand over the top of your opponents hand, similarly to the last maneuver to keep it extended, and take single step backwards. If you maintain a firm grip, this should serve to both extend their arm straight and bring them slightly forward, off balance."

"From this position, there are a number of actionable maneuvers to use." Slowly, Dox showcased each as she described them. "A stiff palm strike to the extended elbow will both pinch the nerves in your opponents forearm releasing whatever grip they may have. Sufficient force can also break the bone if necessary. You can also incapacitate the knee from this position with a downward directed kick to just above and to the outside of the kneecap."

Leaning in, Dox pointed to just beneath the large woman's shoulder into her armpit. "There's also a nerve cluster located right here on most humanoid races that becomes exposed. From my angle, a punch is too long to have any effective power. But if you pull your opponent in further, you should have sufficient force for a well placed kick to the nerve cluster."

Letting go, Dox stepped back. "Performed correctly, that would disabled your opponents arm completely for approximately two to five minutes. Done incorrectly, you've just pissed her off and put yourself off balance. So for now, focus on the arm and knee attacks that get you out of reach."

Turning back, Dox nodded slightly. "Let's run through at speed, limited force for demonstration, please, Miss S'Rina."

The Klingon woman gently but firmly pulled Dox back into position, then took her hand, made a knife hand of it and placed it a few centimeters behind and below where the martial arts instructor had indicated, a bit more dorsal than her previous placement. “Our nerve clusters are beneath the scapula, making them hard armored in this instance, But a knife strike here can accomplish the desired effect,” the Klingon security officer indicated. After having offered the correction, the Klingon stepped back, made sure the instructor was prepared, then moved in at half speed to grab the shoulder of the little lieutenant once more.

With a quick precision, the two officers performed the maneuvers for the class, repeating the actions to showcase the described variations for all to see.

As the completed the moves, the two wildly dissimilar women stepped back into their starting positions. Dox first addressed her Klingon voulenteer. "Thank you very much, Miss S'Rina. Particularly for correcting my strike placement." Then she turned to address the group. "We're all here to support each other, so never be afraid to admit when you don't know something and learn from your fellow crewmates."

As the completed the moves, the two wildly dissimilar women stepped back into their starting positions. Dox first addressed her Klingon volunteer. "Thank you very much, Miss S'Rina. Particularly for correcting my strike placement." Then she turned to address the group. "We're all here to support each other, so never be afraid to admit when you don't know something and learn from your fellow crewmates."

“If you would like to spar sometime, let me know Lieutenant. Your training seems thorough and I would welcome the opportunity to test my skills against you outside a classroom setting,” the big Klingon whispered, then she grinned, a toothy affair that was reassuring and somehow threatening at the same time.

However, the generally aggressive young red-head smiled back, intrigued but still a little wary, and replied back in a whisper. "It would be an honor. Thank you."

Then, Dox straightened her tunic and turned back to the assembly. "That's two basic maneuvers. Perhaps now we can focus on disarming moves? I'll need another volunteer and a reasonable facimile of a weapon…"

The rest of the class passed without incident, as a few questions and clarifications were asked for an offered, and once the lesson was over, the security officers were broken into paired groups to practice the techniques. All of them quickly adapted to the maneuvers, particularly the two Klingon sisters who seemed to greatly enjoy the submission holds and nerve strikes. It was abundantly clear from the way they moved and the horseplay between the two that they had been friends for a long time, and that neither was in the habit of being gentle with the other. However, when pairs were rotated, both were patient, calm and pulled their punches appropriately for the sparring session- much to the relief of their commander, who did not look forward to having to break up a Klingon brawl.

Leaning into the flight control chief, the head of security whispered, “It looks like your new moves are a hit. Thanks Mnhei’sahe, I very much owe you one.”

Smiling in spite of herself, Dox was a little proud. She had taken an aspect of her childhood that she once regretted, and with a little help and some gentle prodding from Rita Paris, turned it into something positive. "I'm just glad I could help... and that I didn't pass out out there." Dox whispered back with a smile.