Christopher Lambert

((Holodeck 2 - Deck 6)) ::He had ignored every person that attempted a greeting as he pounded through the corridors, angrily pulling tight the laces on his left hand with his teeth. He glared a particularly nosey crewman that had tried to peek into the holodeck as he mashed the keypad with the as-of-yet ungloved hand.:: Dermont: Computer, run Dermont Therapy and start at level four. Computer: Simulation is running. Dermont: Sod off. ::He entered the holodeck, still breathing deep with anger. And the higher ups said those counseling sessions were for his benefit? His? To hell with that! He entered was for all appearance was a training gym for an old earth contact sport known as boxing. He knew for certain that he wasn't the only person in Starfleet who still enjoyed the pastime as there was actually a program for it already on board...but he had brought his own as he enjoyed the personal touches he could add to it.:: ::He pulled on the other glove and began to lace it as his opponent stared his down, already inside the square ring which stood in the center of the gym. He was a mean looking Nausican, big and bulkly, an exact replica for the one that had broken his knee for being late on an old loan. But that was another woe for another time. Today was a completely different matter.:: oO(And it had been going so good!)Oo ::He groaned a bit as his slid into the ring and made his way back to his feet. Earlier his plan to work through the entire journey to this Caraadian Festival had been working just fine, but then of course he had to receive a comm, reminding him...nay, ordering him!...to his weekly counseliing session. Dermont had just known that it was going to be the end of his wonderful last couple of days.:: ::As soon as he stood, the Nausican raised his gloves and the old engineer dig the same. Under the glove, he could feel his right hand still store after its injury on the Devron surface. It was hole, but still tender. He had been told to go easy on it. That thought almost made Dermont chuckle. Because an engineer's life was so gentle on their hands. His chores had them practically coddled in silks...:: ::As the two combatants got into a ready stance, there was a bell off in the distance. That Nausican immediately came on the attack, swinging powerful left and right punches, testing Dermont's defense. While the engineer was large, the alien was bigger, and seemingly much younger. He arms wavered under the blows and his body staggered a bit. But still he stood.:: oO(That woman...the nerve...and here I was thinking we were making progress!)Oo ::As the Nausican came in just a little too close, Dermont shoved out sending him backwards. His opponent tipped backwards a bit and then it was Dermont's turn. He sent a heavy left into the other's jaw, sending his flying back towards the ropes. The graying ensign snarled out loud and lunged forward, intending to take advantage of his new found momentum.:: oO("Do I like myself?" What sort of question is that? "Do i like Valin?" You can bugger off, lady?! What's not to like?!)Oo ::He put all of his power onto one foot and aim a heavy right handed blow at the Nausican's head. And perhaps a lower level opponent would have been done right then. But not this time. Faster than he would have thought possible, the Nausican whipped his head back and out of the way. Dermont was left there, leaning far forward, all his weight on one foot, arm stretched and no semblance of a defense, all right there directly in front of his opponent.:: oO(I'm a hell of a guy! Happily divorced!)Oo ::The Nausican slammed the side of his temple hard, and Dermont dropped to one knee, instantly disoriented.:: oO(Kids who either shun me or pity me!)Oo ::He tried to get his gloves up as he stood, but he wasn't quick enough. Back up to his feet just to get a quick punch to the gut and then an upper cut that busted his lip. He went right back to his knees.:: oO(business destoyed...life savings gone...)Oo ::This time he didn't even raise a glove. He looked right up at the Nausican, having a sense of deja vu as the glove came down. If the safety protocols had been off, Dermont was sure the nose would have been broken. Instead it just bled a bit and still hurt like hell. He saw stars and felt the mat on his cheek.:: oO(whole crew dead...best friend died in me arms!)Oo ::The Nausican was programmed to play by the rules, so he backed off as Dermont went down. An invisible referee began counting down the seconds as he just lay there. The counselor hadn't meant to cause such anger in Valin Dermont, and maybe she had a point that survivor's guilt was a thing and he was punishing himself. But he didn't care what fancy terms you gave it. He had survived and then wasted that gift, ruining everything that he touched...:: Referee: Six...seven... Dermont: ::As he got his knees under him and got back to his feet:: Oh aye, I'm just a bloody wonderful soul! Referee: ...eight...nine... ::He raised his gloves.:: Referee: Fight! Dermont: Computer, set opponent's AI to passive. ::And just like that the fire and contempt that was in the Nausican's eyes faded and the figure lowered his gloves. Dermont threw his arms out wide and screamed into the hologram's face. He slugged the Nausican hard across the jaw, hard enough that his right hand bust into pain in protested. His opponent went down in pile. But Dermont didn't stopped. He jumped on top of the form and punched it over and over again.:: Dermont: I'm! ::Punch, the hologram's head bouncing off of the mat.:: Dermont: Just! ::Again, and again...:: Dermont: Wonderfulllllll! ::He screamed himself hoarse and collapsed over the Nausican, tears in his eyes. He lay there panting for moment before climbing unsteadily to his feet and looking down at the unmoving alien. He was covered in sweat and his mop of hair had fallen into his face and when he took a breath through his nose, he could feel the snot gathering. Apparently he had decided during a boxing match was a good time to have a cry. He suddenly made his way to the ropes and slid under them out of the ring. He walked away not looking back.:: Dermont: What's not to friggin' love about this guy? Computer, end program. ========== Ensign @Valin Dermont Engineering USS Atlantis A239410VD0

((Bridge of the Caraadian freighter)) :: Varada sat upon his command chair, relaxed with a hot cup of Dunaras root in his hand. Its slightly bitter aroma was offset by its more pleasant taste. He had not been sure that his plan would work, something about the Valcarian, the Lord Advisor who had taken control of the station had sent shivers of dread up his spine. Still that was behind him now. In a few days he would be able to sell his cargo, pay off all of his debt and his ship would finally be his once again. Best of all he should still have a good profit left even after paying off the crew with their back wages that he owed them. :: :: Suddenly some noise, some feeling that things were not right made him turn. There was the Lord Advisor dressed in some weird robes like one of their fabled priests. The look on his face daunting, especially when he saw the blood splattered onto the robe in various locations. :: Sam’Yasin: I forgot to thank you Captain for the ride. :: his face was partially obscured by the hood :: :: At the sound of the strange voice Carvis spun from where he was standing. At the sight of the Valcarian he panicked and immediately lashed out, trying to take out this threat but it was futile. He never even came close and before he knew it he was flung to the deck, a strange feeling or more accurately lack of feeling swept over him. He could not control his arms and his legs barely responded to his frantic attempts to move. :: Carvis: Ca….. ca…… :: he struggled but that was all he could get out. The feeling of panic grew and he felt himself suddenly pee, the stain growing as the smell of it grew to block out any and everything else. He could not even feel it except as a faint warm wetness. :: :: After a moment while he simple sat there Varada finally responded, dropping his cup, the hot liquid landing in his lap and searing certain valuable family organs that his wife seemed to appreciate. The sudden pain almost made him drop the plasma pistol he grabbed from where it rested beside his seat. :: :: He shifted his position as his cargo master hit the ground and fired a couple shots, two missed and the other was a direct hit to the man’s back but it had absolutely no affect. :: Sam’Yasin: Captain! Captain! :: he flashed a jubilant grin :: You can't kill me. :: releasing the cargo master on the ground :: But you can kill him. Shalusu: You’ll just kill us both anyway… there is nothing to stop you… Sam’Yasin: No arguing this time. :: extending his right arm :: Give me the gun and surrender. :: For a moment Varada seriously considered shooting again but after seeing the energy from his weapon shed like water off some aquatic birds back he had little hope of it doing anything more than making the man even madder than he was. :: Shalusu: Very well. :: He replied in a defeated tone even as he tossed the weapon to the Valcarian. :: Sam’Yasin: :: grabbing the gun :: You know that I value my word. :: breaking the gun in half :: In retribution for this ride, I will spare your existence this day. :: staring at the disabled Caraadian :: If you acknowledge an extra request, I could spare his life as well. Shalusu: What do you want? :: In response to his question the man walked over to the helm controls and then swiped his hand downwards over the controls. For a moment he felt another surge of dread, was this Valcarian real or something even more sinister. :: :: Then as he noticed that a new set of co-ordinates had been entered into the computer he realized that it was the result of some kind of unusual technology and that there might just be a slim chance for him to get out of this problem alive. The Valcarian moved back over near to his cargo master even as he spoke. :: Sam’Yasin: Take me to this coordinates. :: standing up :: You have three minutes before he dies. :: Varada moved to the helmsman’s seat and sat down, quickly inputting the needed commands to change the destination of the vessel in the computer. :: Shalusu: Those coordinates are about 4 and a half minutes from here at the maximum speed my vessel can achieve. This is not a war ship you know, merely an aging freighter. It is the best I can do. Sam’Yasin: reply Shalusu: I will do the best that I can. Sam’Yasin: reply TAG/TBC ************************************ MSPNPC Captain Varada Shalusu Caraadian freighter captain As simmed by Cmdr. Tal Tel-ar Chief Tactical Officer USS Athena, NCC-97780 darylpea[...]@hotmail.com Daryl.Pea[...]@ontario.ca Tal Tel-ar’s Writer’s ID: T237708TT0