by Rudy Josephs
Kirk stepped onto the gray mat. It was cold under his bare feet, but that wasn’t the real problem. The soft, pliant cushion gave a bit more bounce to his step than he’d anticipated.
He would have preferred to do this exercise on the gymnasium floor, but safety precautions had to be followed. In light of the cadet death that was just beginning to make the rounds in the gossip mill, he guessed that he could understand the instructor’s need to take precautions.
Kirk bowed to Thanas, which earned him an echoing laugh in return. When he rose, he noted the silence around him. All eyes in the room had turned at the sound of Thanas’s forced laughter. Now it was Kirk’s turn to blush.
“Ancient Earth customs are out of place in Rigelian martial arts,” Lieutenant Commander Bjorta announced to the class. He was using Kirk’s slipup as a teaching example, not to embarrass him. At least that’s what Kirk told himself so that he didn’t lash out as his instructor.
He’d rather save his anger for Thanas.
“Rigelian hand-to-hand combat is more . . . indirect,” Bjorta continued. “The moves are simple, concise, and work best when they come at an opponent without warning. There’s nothing polite about Rigelian combat.” The lieutenant commander put his hands on Uhura’s shoulders. He guided her movements, circling with her fight partner. Bjorta waved to the other cadets, indicating that they should follow his lead.
Kirk waited for Thanas to make the first move. When the Andorian stepped left, Kirk stepped right. They circled the mat with their eyes locked on each other, ready to strike the moment their instructor gave the signal.
“Each move has a purpose,” Bjorta continued, moving with Uhura as the cadets circled one another. “Step. Counterstep. Each blow should be focused on one of four spots on the body. Right flank. Neck. Knees. Lower back. Any other contact is either meant as a distraction or an utter waste of time.”
The lieutenant commander moved off the mat he shared with Uhura and her partner, allowing them to circle freely on their own. “Remember the moves I showed you yesterday. The moves you were all supposed to practice last night. The entirety of Rigelian martial arts consists of those six basic steps. Now’s the time to use them.”
Confusion flashed through Kirk’s mind. He could only remember five steps. He’d only practiced five moves.
Again, he focused on his breathing. It would be fine.
“Ready?” Bjorta said.
Five moves were all Kirk would need.
“Go!”
Thanas lashed out the moment Bjorta gave the command.
Kirk was ready for the move, and countered. Thanas’s hand swiped through empty air. “Stealth,” Kirk taunted. “It’s not about a frontal—Agh!”
Thanas’s fist pounded into Kirk’s side.
“You talk too much,” Thanas said with a giddy leer.
That was funny coming from the cadet who never shut up about himself, but Kirk chose not to prove him right by saying it. He focused on the fight instead. It was bad enough that he’d allowed Thanas to land the first blow.
Grunts and yells filled the room as the cadets went after one another. Kirk and Thanas continued to circle, staring each other down. This fight was going to be more psychological.
They both moved at once. Kirk kicked Thanas’s weak spot at the knee. Thanas came down on Kirk’s neck. They both made contact.
Pain flared down Kirk’s spine.
Thanas’s leg went out from under him.
He was back up before Kirk could capitalize on Thanas’s weakened position. In Rigelian martial arts, the lower back was the sweet spot. Hit it just right, and you could incapacitate your opponent. It was almost impossible to reach it when the opponents circled the mat face-to-face, refusing to drop their guard.
Winners were declared all over the room, yet Kirk and his combatant had landed a total of only three blows so far between them.
It was time to get serious.
The two cadets struck again in unison.
Kirk smashed a hand into Thanas’s flank, hitting the soft, fleshy spot beneath the rib cage. Thanas went for the same spot on Kirk, but missed, catching him in the gut. Kirk wasn’t so sure it was accidental.
The onslaught did not stop. They exchanged blows in rapid succession, inflicting actual pain. It was supposed to be a sparring match. They were going for blood.
Lieutenant Commander Bjorta should have called them off, should have stopped things when it became clear that the sparring had moved to something personal.
He didn’t.
The other cadets came over to watch.
Thanas got in another cheap shot to Kirk’s gut. His body blocked the dirty move from Bjorta’s view. If the instructor didn’t see it, he couldn’t call it.
“Lieutenant Commander Bjorta!” The voice was Uhura’s. She was trying to get the instructor to intercede. No official call came.
The Andorian went in for a final blow. Kirk still had the wind knocked out of him. It was all Kirk could do to remain standing. One more strike would take him down.
Thanas pulled back.
Kirk kneed the Andorian in the soft spot between his legs, using a move as old as humanity itself. The Andorian doubled over, exposing his back. Kirk jumped up, landing an elbow in the sweet spot, flattening Thanas.
Nobody cheered. Several female cadets rushed to Thanas’s aid. Uhura wasn’t one of them, but her partner was.
The lieutenant commander was right up in Kirk’s face. “What the hell was that?”
“Rigelian martial arts, sir,” Kirk said with a cocky smile. “Element of surprise.”
One of the girls, who was bending to help Thanas, laughed.
“That was not a sanctioned move, and you know it, plebe,” Bjorta barked.
“True,” Kirk replied. “But kicking him there allowed me to make the final shot that took him out. Just being practical, sir. Distraction.”
“You are aware that Rigelians have multiple genders, are you not, plebe?”
“Yes,” Kirk lied. He had no idea what the lieutenant commander was talking about. Or why. He was also getting annoyed by the “plebe” name-calling. Instructors didn’t usually do that. The word was usually reserved for the upperclassmen to use. Bjorta calling him that was meant as a put-down. That was certain.
“So there’s no guarantee that on a Rigelian, the move you pulled would even work,” Bjorta said. “Hell, who’s to say it would even work on an Andorian?”
The lieutenant commander didn’t need to raise his voice any louder, but he did refocus his attention to the rest of the class. “Don’t assume that just because your race has a particular weakness, all races share that weakness.” He brought down his voice to a controlled level and looked right at Kirk again. “And don’t assume you can keep pulling illegal moves and get away with it in my class, plebe. You’ve failed today.”
Bjorta turned back to the class. “Resume starting positions for round two,” he ordered.
Kirk wanted to respond as the instructor stepped away, but he knew better.
“Low blow.” Thanas groaned as he got to his feet, shaking off the female attention.
Kirk grit his teeth. “Don’t act like you didn’t throw in a few dirty shots.”
“The difference is, I didn’t get caught.”
Kirk squared his shoulders, standing toe to toe with the Andorian. “Doesn’t matter who got what. You’re the one who ended up flat on the mat.”
“Only because I knew enough to lay low when teacher was around,” Thanas said. “I doubt you could hold your own against me when the faculty isn’t paying attention.”
Kirk held up his hands, beckoning for the opportunity. “Anytime.”
Thanas checked to make sure no one would overhear. The other cadets had scattered. Even his closest admirer was off with Uhura, preparing for their next sparring match.
“There’s a little get-together,” Thanas said. “Tomorrow night. Midpoint on the Golden Gate Bridge. For cadets that really want to show their
abilities.”
“Sounds interesting,” Kirk said. Actually, it sounded stupid, but he didn’t want to be accused of backing down.
Thanas threw him a challenging glare. “It will be.”
Uhura checked the clock in the quad. Theoretically, she had enough time to swing by the mess hall and grab a snack on her way to Astrosciences. The cafeteria was on the way to that building. At the same time, she didn’t want to risk being late. Today was the final review before a test, and she was hopelessly behind.
“Uhura, wait up!”
She glanced back and saw her combat training partner, Andros, chasing after her. Waiting was not an option if she wanted to grab some food, but she did slow down. Andros was running fast enough that she’d catch up in a matter of moments.
Uhura’s stomach grumbled. She’d been so concerned about studying that she’d forgotten to eat anything during lunch, which was just stupid. She wasn’t going to be able to focus on the review with an empty stomach. She’d never hear the instructor over the growling.
The sound of Andros’s footsteps grew louder as she reached Uhura. “Hey, thanks for slowing down. I wanted to go over that last sparring match with you.”
“So long as you don’t mind keeping pace.”
“No problem,” she said, even though she was already out of breath, which was odd since she hadn’t really run that far after Uhura. They’d also had a good cool-down period after their workout. Followed by plenty of time to change for the next class. Andros shouldn’t have been breathing that heavily.
“So, that last match,” Andros said.
“Yeah. Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to take your legs out from under you like I did.” Actually, Uhura had meant to do exactly that. She just hadn’t expected Andros to drop so hard.
Andros had won most of their matches, but not because she was better skilled in Rigelian martial arts. If anything, she still had a lot to learn. Her form was awful. Only about half her moves were sanctioned. She’d mainly won most matches by wearing Uhura down. Andros had been all over the mat, a flurry of arms and legs moving in every direction. Uhura only managed to win the final round by landing a lucky kick.
Andros should have dropped to the ground, but she was flailing so hard, trying to keep on her feet, that she sent herself flying backward off the mat and onto the hard floor. Uhura could still hear the sound of her head making contact with the ground. It echoed in Uhura’s memory.
“So what did I do wrong?” Andros asked. “That let you take me down like that?”
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Uhura replied. “You were moving so fast, it was kind of hard to tell.”
“Got a lot of pent-up energy.”
“It would seem.”
Andros huffed even harder. Sweat dripped from her hair even though it was a pleasant fall day. They were walking at a brisk pace, but not that brisk. Uhura slowed some more, not wanting to exhaust her partner.
“Actually . . . you mind if we stop for a sec? Let me catch my breath?”
Uhura did mind, but she didn’t want to say it. Andros clearly needed to stop. Her breathing was growing more rapid. Her face paled.
“Are you okay?” Uhura asked.
“Fine,” Andros replied. It came out in a squeak.
“Maybe you should sit down.”
“Good idea.”
Uhura started to lead her to the nearest bench, but Andros couldn’t make it. She collapsed onto the grass. “Andros?” Uhura dropped beside her.
Andros waved her off. “I’m fine,” she said between panting breaths. “Okay.”
“I think we should take you to Medical.”
“No! Just need . . .” The cadet’s pupils rolled up into her head, exposing the whites of her eyes. Her body listed to the side.
“Andros! Andros! Karin!”
A small crowd formed around them as Uhura pulled out her communicator. She flipped it open. “Cadet Uhura to Academy Medical. We need an emergency medical team on the quad. I’ve got—”
Andros started convulsing. Her mouth foamed.
“Scratch that. We need an emergency medical transport from this location. Now!”
Within moments she experienced the odd sensation of the world around her shifting. Her body transformed into a matter stream that was transported across campus. In the blink of an eye, the grass and sky were replaced by the soothing white/blue walls of the emergency sickbay at Starfleet Medical. The concerned cadets who had gathered to watch on the quad were now a pair of trained professionals who, hopefully, knew what to do. Uhura was still in her crouched position. She rose to take in the scene.
Andros was lying on a biobed on an emergency medical transport pad. She’d stopped convulsing. Her pupils had returned, but they stared at the ceiling. Empty of life.
Dr. McCoy rushed to her side. “What have we got?” he asked with a Southern drawl as he grabbed a medical tricorder off the exam table beside them. He pulled the cylindrical scanner from the boxy device and ran the instrument over Andros’s body.
“She collapsed out on the quad,” Uhura explained. “We’d just come from Combat Training. She fell and hit her head in class.”
McCoy ran the scanner over Andros’s head. He checked the readout on the device. “No sign of concussion. What else?”
“She was out of breath. Panting. And sweating.” Uhura thought back to what had happened. She mentally catalogued every symptom she’d witnessed. “Her eyes rolled back into her head when she passed out.”
He continued to run the scanner over her body. His brow furrowed when he read something off the screen. Then he reexamined the same spot. His response was the same.
“Is something wrong?”
He looked at her like he was almost surprised she was still there. “No,” he said. “You can . . . um . . . you can get back to class.”
If McCoy thought he was being reassuring, he had to learn a bit about bedside manners. “What is it? What’s wrong with her?” Uhura asked.
McCoy motioned to the nurse who took Uhura by the shoulder and gently guided her away from the exam area. “The doctor’s going to run a few tests,” he said. “Don’t want to give a premature diagnosis. Won’t know anything for a while. You should get to class. Leave your name on the PADD, and we’ll update you when we know something.”
The nurse took a nearby PADD from the counter and handed it to her. Uhura couldn’t fill it out yet. “I should wait here. She might want a familiar face when she wakes.”
“She might be out for a while.” He skillfully escorted her into the hall without her even realizing it. The sickbay door shut behind them.
“I should wait,” Uhura said, though she wasn’t sure why. She and Andros had only talked to each other in class. But something was going on, something the doctor didn’t want her to see.
In light of Thanas’s news about Jackson, this worried Uhura. The fears didn’t ease when an older doctor—an instructor—rushed past her and went into the room. “What’s going on?” she asked the nurse.
“You got me.” His tranquil mask slipped a little. The other doctor’s sudden arrival had surprised him as well. “But I’d better get back. They might need me. Leave your info on the PADD.”
He handed her the device and turned away without another word. Uhura had more questions, but she didn’t want to keep the nurse from his duties. Andros’s health was the more important factor, not her curiosity.
That changed dramatically when she saw that the door to sickbay refused to open for the nurse. He’d been locked out. He now looked just as confused as Uhura felt.
“Report,” Dr. Griffin commanded once he’d secured the door to sickbay.
McCoy handed over the medical tricorder. “Patient just came in. Collapsed in the quad. Her friend reported that she’d hit her head in class. I don’t think that’s the problem.”
Dr. Griffin took in the pale body before them. Her chest rose and fell at a rapid rate. Shivers wracked her body. Though she was unconscious, she was
far from immobile. “I can see that,” he said. “Walk me through it.”
“Her metabolism is . . . well, it’s supercharged. Her body is processing energy at an incredible rate, throwing her cells out of homeostasis.”
“She’s expending more energy than she’s taking in,” Dr. Griffin agreed.
“For her to maintain those numbers, she’d have to be eating constantly.”
“It’s good that you called me,” Griffin said. “This is an unusual case. We should treat her—”
McCoy jumped in. “I’ve already administered treatment,” he said. “While you were on the way here. That’s not why I called you.”
“I suspected as much,” Griffin said. “Let me guess. This is not a natural occurrence.”
“The enzymes in her body have been altered.”
“Drugs?”
McCoy nodded. First illegal surgery, now illegal drugs. The kind that wouldn’t be picked up in a routine drug screening. This did not look good. “For her to maintain these levels, she’d need to be on special medication. Then she’d need a proper amount of food to fuel the body.”
“As if cadets didn’t have enough trouble struggling to keep up with the Academy schedule. The rigors of keeping up with this regimen . . . It’s no surprise she’d be here.”
McCoy administered a hypospray filled with a sedative. The body stopped shivering. Her eyes closed.
“This has to stop,” Griffin said. It was barely a whisper.
“Should we report this to Captain Warde?”
The question shook Griffin out of his thoughts. “I want to go over these scans first.”
“Figured you might.” McCoy stepped aside from the cadet to let the doctor get closer.
“Thank you for alerting me,” Griffin said. “Take the rest of the afternoon off. And you should probably expect a visit from Captain Warde.”
Actually, McCoy was expecting to see his patient through her treatment. “Sir? Are you telling me to leave?”
Griffin looked up at McCoy as if the question were unexpected. “I’m telling you that you’re dismissed.”
