Hack and Slash
Posted on Wed Dec 25th, 2024 @ 12:10am by Lieutenant Commander Savin & Lieutenant Inara Deyren
Mission:
Pandora's Box
Location: USS Athena
Timeline: MD3 - PM
4004 words - 8 OF Standard Post Measure
An incoming message from the USS Vanguard chimed through, lighting up the console in the ship’s counsellor's quarters. The name on the sender’s ID was one he hadn’t seen in quite some time, but it was familiar, maybe comfortably so. When the screen activated, Inara Deyren’s face filled the display, her black Betazoid eyes glinting with playful energy. She was leaning in close, her cheek propped against her hand, a posture that could only be described as casually conspiratorial.
“So, you finally made it,” she began without preamble, her tone carrying a mix of teasing and warmth that only came with long-standing friendship. Privacy was a rare commodity on a Defiant-class ship, even in quarters, and Inara’s casual posture betrayed her adaptation to it. Leaning back slightly, she gave him an appraising look before continuing. “I just finished setting up the sensor network, tedious but done. And I’ve got a few hours before I need to crash and implement patrol strategy tomorrow.”
Her lips twitched upward, the mischief growing with every word. She didn’t wait for a reply, steamrolling ahead in classic Inara fashion. “We don’t have a holodeck, obviously, but I’ve got the next best thing- a shuttle. Want some practice?” Her grin widened, and her eyebrows wiggled suggestively.
"Inara," Savin greeted his old friend, "yes I have some time to indulge in training. I did not know you would be here, otherwise I would have contacted you sooner." He watched her in turn. "How are you finding your assignment to such a... tiny... vessel? I would have thought you would have preferred a larger vessel, with more space? How do you keep fit on a Defiant class?"
A flicker of satisfaction crossed her face as he confirmed his willingness to spar. “Chief of Security, remember? I’ve been busy too, so I’m not holding it against you,” she replied, her tone teasing but light. Tilting her head to one side, she regarded him with narrowed eyes, the playful edge returning. “But let’s save the catching up for when we’ve got blades in hand and safety settings on.”
Pushing herself away from the desk, Inara glanced around her quarters as if mentally calculating the time it would take. “I can be there… soon. Book a holodeck!” Her grin widened.
The Romulan smiled back at her, his own eyes sparkling in amusement. "Already booked," he answered, "I am looking forward to see if you made any progress since our last meeting." It was a recurring jibe since he knew she was very skilled, but he still had more experience as he'd been training since a very young age. The sword had always been his preference, compared to other traditional Vulcan weapons. "I will see you in ten minutes."
The woman charged back to the screen frantically “Ten minutes! Do you know how long it takes to confirm undocking and clearance?! Fine, fine. Bye, bye, bye.”
Ten minutes later, dressed in loose fitting pants and tunic, Savin was waiting at the holodeck doors. A replica of his sword would appear as soon as he would enter the waiting program.
Lucky for Savin, the Vanguard's compact size and responsive crew worked in her favour, and the Athena’s team had been more than accommodating. Navigating the familiar maze of corridors felt almost nostalgic. Spotting her friend waiting by the holodeck doors, a wide grin broke across Inara’s face. Tossing her usual composure aside, she jogged the final stretch to join him. Her wide-leg pants flared as she moved, their fabric cinched snugly at the shins. A simple grey vest peeked out beneath a knit-wrap jumper that crossed neatly over her chest, keeping her movements fluid and unencumbered. “Well? Did I make it in time?” she asked, her tone light but hopeful as she caught her breath.
Watching her jogging approach with an amused smile, he nodded. "Barely," he answered dryly, though the tease wouldn't be lost on her. She was probably one of a handful with whom he could get away with it, having been a subject of practice during their academy years. "Are you ready? I have your favourite weapon added to the program, it should replicate to your parameters when we enter."
Savin pressed the holodeck controls and the heavy doors slid aside to grant them access. Before them lay a classic dojo and Savin raised his hand to receive a replica of the blue blade sword which was his favourite choice for combat and training. The steel glinted coldly as it caught the light. Watching her receive hers, he approached the mat and removed his shoes and socks, neatly setting them aside so they couldn't be tripped over.
The Betazoid gave a quiet whoop of acceptance, raising her arms above her head with palpable enthusiasm. “Yes! Let’s do this.” She stepped inside with a skip, her empathic senses brushing against the subtle guardedness in Savin’s thoughts. Her eyes lit up as two short, lightly curved blades shimmered into her hands. “Aww, you remembered.” The balanced weight and familiar grip felt like an extension of herself, refined through years of practice since their academy days. She kicked off her boots sending them over to the wall and awkwardly peeled off her socks, catching them under the cuff with the tip of a blade and sending them haphazardly through the air to join them. With a flick of her wrists, she spun the blades effortlessly, the soft whistle of steel slicing through the air a sharp declaration of her readiness.
"Of course I remembered, how many years have we sparred now?" Savin countered, mock-insulted as he stepped onto the mat. He frowned at her haphazard means of removing her shoes and socks, in that aspect she was a complete opposite of himself. "Ready?" He asked, "warm up first. I have no desire to have to visit sickbay because of our neglect."
Inara rolled her eyes playfully but didn’t argue, shifting both blades to one hand as she began a series of stretches. Easing into light footwork drills, she bounced on the balls of her feet, her movements fluid and unhurried as she reacquainted herself with the rhythm of motion. Chuckling softly, she passed one blade back to her empty hand, her tone carrying its usual mix of humour and candour. “Apparently not long enough for you to hide your distaste for my chaotic ways when I’m off-duty. You forget I just speed-ran a shuttle launch. A ship this size? Practically a palace by comparison. Though I do enjoy the extra manoeuvrability of a tiny warship.”
Her movements shifted seamlessly into a series of alternating swings with her blades, the arcs smooth and deliberate. The satisfying whistle of steel slicing through the air brought a grin to her face. There was something visceral about the motion, a connection to the weapon that rivaled the precision of marksmanship. “How have things been?” she asked, her tone casual but curious. “I’m guessing there’s plenty of planning to keep Security and Tactical busy. Not so much for Medical.”
Her swings widened slightly, the arcs extending as she worked the muscles in her arms and shoulders, always mindful to keep a safe distance from her companion.
"As counselor, I am kept busy," Savin answered, while following suit with his own warming up, even though he always managed to keep facing her, "I have requested shifts in sickbay as our prior CMO failed to roster me in. What about you? Are you still together with.. what was his name again?" He pretended for his memory to fail him, wanting her to supply the name of the young man she had been dating on their last meeting.
“That’s not the one the Spruance helmsman was after, is it?” she asked, a knowing edge in her voice as she caught the subtext of his question. “Oh, Evan...” A grimace flickered across her face as she swung one leg out, the flat of her blade playfully tapping against his thigh. “No. Evan didn’t quite grasp the concept of having a life outside a relationship. I think he was about to propose.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Mother was ecstatic, of course. I was not. So, I... cut that loose end.” Her expression twisted into a wry, exaggerated wince. “Admit it, you enjoyed how intense he was. Wait—” She gasped suddenly, one hand flying to her chest with theatrical flair as her blade rested lightly against her sternum. “Is this why I’m here? Have you decided to be my suitor instead?”
He danced away after the tap of her blade against his thigh, then turned in preparation for a next attack. He misstepped however as he caught her last question and managed to trip over his own feet. "What?" He managed as he scrambled back to his feet. "Yes he was intense...and not your type. Even though...he did seem to make you happy." Deciding then, he stepped out as well, shifting from a two-handed hold to a single one, swinging the sword towards her on an upward arc. He shifted his balance, ready to move away. "How was he a loose end?"
“I thought we said no visits to sickbay?” She chided him not realising her teasing would have such an impact, they had been close but she was not the one. That was Dessame. “Sorry. I’ll try to behave.” She lifted her hands to cross the blades above her head with the sharp metallic clash. Inara knew she didn’t have hope in holding him up for long so needed to get creative as he wouldn’t waste time in bearing down. The single hand could be used to her advantage swinging both blades down to her right with a twist, this came with the knowledge that his dominant hand would need to pull back and give her time to regain her footing. She pivoted on her back foot, using the redirected momentum to spring upward, aiming a sharp jab with her shoulder toward his exposed side. "Because I’m not the whole of the universe, contrary to popular belief." She retorted, her voice steady despite the exertion. "And I don’t like being smothered, absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
"Does it?" Even though they spoke aloud, he was grateful for her resorting to telepathy as well, so he wouldn't miss any of the conversation. Their long standing friendship did allow for easy communication like this. "No, you are not," he agreed as he rubbed his side but moved without pause as he recovered and turned to take another swipe at her. "But I do not understand how marriage equals smothering."
“Apparently not. I’m content in my own little bubble without Evan. He was very sweet and attentive and deserves someone who can appreciate that.” Her nose scrunched and she shook her head. “That wasn’t me. Maybe I’m too free.” A full spin on the balls of her feet brought a blade along his side aiming for a strike at the back of his leg. “It’s not the marriage … just didn’t feel right. Not the right person.” There was an empathic shrug but no movement of her shoulders, “Has no one swept you off your feet yet? No secret proposals or illicit affairs?” Part of her knew the answer but she was still curious.
Blocking the strike that would've done serious harm without safeties, Savin pivoted away, her blade sliding along his as he did. He turned and took a swipe towards her still extended arm. "Noone since Dessame left," he confessed, "though.. I have been propositioned. Obviously, I declined." Truth was even though enough time had passed, he still felt the pain of being left and he doubted that would ever go away. "I am not in any hurry though, I am certain I will meet someone, when the time is right."
There was a sharp suck of breath as she tsked with his slip away from her first blade, “And it wasn’t even me … I’m disappointed.” She could feel the hurt that had been caused but she couldn’t let that distract her. With a sharp jut upward with her second blade she intercepted him again in midswing, the sharp ring of steel on impact. Rather than meeting his strength head-on, she angled her blade to guide his weapon downward and away, using his momentum to her advantage.
In the same movement, she dropped her centre of gravity and slid her foot behind his forward leg, hooking it just above the ankle. With a fluid twist of her torso, she pressed her first blade toward his chest, not to strike but to unbalance him further while sweeping his leg out from under him. “I’m right here.” She couldn’t help but wink at him.
Savin blinked in surprise as her words registered, at the same moment as her blade intercepted his and she forced it down. He was still in the process of movement when he felt his leg being pulled away. Seeing her other blade come towards him, his shift to fend it off unsettled him even further and he landed on the mad with loud thud. It was a small wonder his blade didn't fall from his hand. "So you are," he answered, hooking his foot around her ankle and used his other foot to try and unsettled her. "However I was under the impression that we are merely friends."
Inara knew what was coming, but she still staggered briefly as his foot hooked around her ankle. Her instincts quickly took over. Instead of pulling away, she leaned into his momentum, twisting her body to stay balanced. Dropping her weight, she bent her knees and swept one blade down to intercept his arm while the other hovered near his neck with a teasing precision.
She tsked softly, a smirk curving her lips. “Using my own tactics against me? How unoriginal.” Her eyes narrowed with playful intent as she caught his gaze. “And merely?” she added, voice lilting with mock incredulity. She rolled her eyes, waiting for the faintest flinch or twitch from him. “You can’t tell me no one’s made you consider taking a chance.”
He grimaced as her right hand blade encountered his arm just as he was about to shift up and swing, then frozen as her left hand blade nearly touched his neck. Sighing, he relaxed and eased back to the mat. "There has not," he admitted, still making no move to get up. "And I have not. I do not wish to take a chance, and be heartbroken again."
Hoping she was distracted by his answer, his fingers lightly tightened around the handle of his blade, before rolling away from her and springing back to his feet. Arm extended, he leveled his blade at her. "You have improved greatly since we last sparred."
“Come on, Savin, you’re made of tougher stuff than that.” Inara flexed her shoulders under her knit wrap, a gesture more for effect than necessity. “You’re a doctor!” She sighed, the Betazoid humour tinged with mock exasperation. Picking herself up fully, she tilted her head and shook it, an easy grin forming. Passing one blade to her other hand, she pulled off the wrap and tossed it carelessly into the pile with her boots and socks.
“Either that or you’ve gotten worse,” she teased, the grin widening as she dropped back into a ready stance after passing back the blade and flicking her wrists. “What would you say to someone who came to you with that excuse? Someone saying, ‘I got hurt once, so now I’m just alone and shut off.’”
The Romulan straightened, waiting for her to finish. "I am not shut off," he countered, "nor do I feel alone." He stepped back with his left foot, lifting his left arm and pointed the blade towards his opponent. "I have not encountered anyone coming to me with that statement. First I would need to know why someone would feel that way." Eyes never leaving her, he suddenly stepped forward and changed what would've been a forward and downward arc into an opposing strike, arcing from bottom right to top left, fully intending to strike her across her left side. The strike was powerful, but lacked it's usual strength, as if he were holding back.
The woman’s eyes narrowed, the faintest flicker of suspicion crossing her features. He was hiding something, or perhaps even in denial. The missing piece tugged at the edges of her awareness, an itch she couldn’t quite reach. Distracted, she twisted her body with a sharp pivot, narrowly evading the swoop of his blade. The near-miss made her gasp despite herself, the force of the air displaced by his strike brushing against her side.
“You are holding back!” she accused, the challenge ringing in her voice. The accusation was paired with action; her movements shifted into a faster, more relentless rhythm. She advanced with a feint towards his shoulder, quickly changing direction to sweep low at his legs.“No more playing safe.”
He parried her sweeps as best as he could though some find their mark, causing him to grimace in response. He didn't answer her accusation, turning to an offense with a series of jabs and sweeps of his own. Though they were all very controlled movements, precise and calculated, strong but not full strength. It was clear he was hampered by something, though he didn't volunteer that information. "Are we here to discuss my private affairs, or are we here to spar?" He challenged.
She honed her senses as she would on the job, drawing on her telepathy and empathy to anticipate his movements. Every flicker of intent, every shift in his stance, fed her strategy. Twisting her body, she narrowly avoided contact, deflecting his swing with one blade while meeting another strike with the other. “It’s one and the same.” Her brows raised with a shrug.
Her movements grew sharper, more deliberate. With a sudden burst of speed, she stepped into his reach, locking his blade between her crossed blades. Using his momentary imbalance, she twisted her weapons and applied force, aiming to disarm him. At the same time, she dropped her centre of gravity, sweeping her leg around to unbalance him further.
Surprise registered in his eyes as he hadn't expected her within reach, and before he had time to reciprocate, his sword flew from his grasp and he found himself flat in his back with her pinning him in place. A brief attempt to dislodge her was halted just as fast as he felt one of her blades at his throat. "I yield," he said slowly, waiting for her to release him.
Inara puffed out her chest, leaning over him with a sharp edge in her tone. “You don’t get to yield your way out of everything. That’s not how friendship works.” With anyone else, the moment might have carried a trace of intimacy, but her annoyance was clear. The Betazoid’s gaze bore into him, unrelenting. “Where are you at, Savin? You’ve gone soft on me.”
She lowered the blade from his neck and, with a deliberate push, pressed her fist against his chest before sliding off him. Sitting cross-legged on the mat beside him, she tossed her blades aside with a clatter. “What is wrong?” she asked, her voice softer now but no less determined. “Tell Counsellor Deyren if that’s what it takes. Make up names, spin me a story. Whatever you need to do. Who else is going to drag this out of you?”
The grimace was genuine as she punched him, and again when he pushed himself up into a sitting position and rubbed his chest, rotating his shoulder a few times to ease the tension. "Last mission I was injured, I am still recovering, that is why I did not use full strength," he confessed, then frowned as he sensed her determination. And was that a hint of anger too, concern maybe? "Make up names for what? Gorn have no names that I am aware of, I did not learn a name for the one that attacked me. I do not understand what needs to be dragged out of me..."
“No way! You don’t just drop something like ‘Oh, by the way, I was recently attacked by a giant deadly lizard man’ without giving a proper heads-up.” She gestured broadly, encompassing his whole being with a wave of her hand. “There’s something else under all of that. I just don’t know what.” Her voice softened slightly, a hint of her earlier annoyance lingering. “We haven’t seen each other in—too long. But we’re good at this because we know each other. We get back into things like we saw each other only yesterday. That’s what good friendship is.” She sighed, her gaze sweeping over him with genuine concern. “Sorry.”
Leaning forward, her elbows on her knees, she searched his form for signs of strain or injury, her eyes narrowing critically. “Come on, then. Let me see.” The Betazoid’s tone remained calm but insistent, though her expression betrayed a flicker of doubt. “Did it lead to the proposition? Did they swoon over your battle scar?”
Taken aback by her outburst, he simply stared at her in silence for a while. Then, he pulled off his tunic to show her the healed injury, which has left no visible scars, only still healing muscle damage. "No, there was no swooning over battle scars," he answered quietly, "she showed up at my quarters with dinner, which was a nice gesture. I did appreciate it, and the company. But I have no desire to..." He stopped, shaking his head. "I said no. Politely, of course."
She leaned in further, her weight shifting as her backside lifted off the mat, fingers tracing lightly along his ribs to inspect the healing (unaware if it was even the correct side). “Maybe it’s just a tactical or security thing—gnarly scars make for good proof of survival.” Her eyes flicked up to meet his, narrowing as her tone turned playful. “Dinner and unprompted propositions? Sounds like I still have a chance. Why else would you whip off that tunic if not to offer yourself up?” She mimicked the sound of a whip with a laugh, rocking back to sit upright. “So, what’s it going to be? Round two, or are we calling it here?”
He held perfectly still, steeling himself against her touch while still allowing her telepathic words to reach him. "I do have scars," he said, pointing towards his right side, about the height of his heart, "but these were infectious and required healing." When she was done with her inspection, he smiled as he smoothly rolled to his feet while ignoring her jibe about having a chance. "Round two, of course, that was just a warming up, would you not agree?" He went to get his sword and turned back to face her. "Do not hold back," he told her earnestly.
Rhythmically, she patted the mat before springing to her feet with practised ease. With a swift, fluid motion, she swooped up her blades, their weight familiar in her grip. Turning to face him, she flashed a faint, approving smile. “That’s more like it.” Rolling her shoulders to loosen them, she prepared for what was to come. Challenging him so forcefully might have been a gamble, but it would undoubtedly push her limits and teach her something in the process. After all, she was lighter and smaller. Perhaps that would level the playing field, or perhaps it would simply make the journey to sickbay a more interesting conversation.
:: TBC ::
