Setting the Benchmark

[Cptn Corizon 0]

Two days before the ‘Reaent Incident’

 

Recreation Room 4 normally had a rather cold feel to it. Rarely used by anyone but the occasional officer when the other three rooms aboard the Excalibur were full, it had made the perfect location for Captain Ah-Windu Corizon to set up his ‘training sessions’ with the joint Security-Marine teams that would be accompanying him on the away mission. As he walked around the room, it was decidedly hot with energy.

 

“Do you feel that?” He asked rhetorically as he paced around the group of Starfleet officers in practice fatigues sitting in a cross-legged position. “That is the energy of the room. Feel it, use it, embrace it.”

 

Dressed in a black kimono and hakama with red obi, the tall Dameon stalked about the room with precision. Subtle red and purple markings resembling claw marks intensified his already imposing stature.

 

“I know you have all been trained in hand to hand combat,” he said, continuing to circle. “And I am sure more than few of you have been trained in some form of martial arts… some might even consider themselves to be… experts… in this field.”

 

He stopped in the middle-front of the room. Replicated haegn-ej (similar to bamboo) mats covered the grey floors of the recreation room, while an assortment of weapons racks targets gave the room the feel of a dojo.

 

“However,” he said. “None of you are ready.”

 

“The last few months have shown me that this crew needs to be harder, faster, stronger…I will make you these things.”

 

The assorted Marines and Security officers looked at each other, a mix of amusement, anxiety, wonderment and surprise. Rumors of the Captains proclivity in combat permeated the ship. After all, they’d heard that during the boarding attempt by the Cult that he’d actually ripped the throat out of one of the attackers with his bare claws. That he was now challenging the crew, and to be more specific the security and Marine detachments directly was a bit unnerving to most.

 

Corizon crossed his arms behind his back and smiled. “Who thinks they can stand for one minute against me?”

 

Looking from one to another, they were clearly waiting for someone to stand up. Finally, Harry Tolbek stood up. The hulking Jalarian mass of muscles and skin smiled. “I can, sir.”

 

Smirking, slightly, Corizon nodded. “Very well… clear the ring.”

 

Forming around a light circle that was painted on the floor mat, the group watched as Corizon and Tolbek stood across from each other, staring into each others eyes. The Dameon clasped his open hands together at the crook between his index finger and his thumbs and bowed his head respectfully at the Jalarian, who repeated a similar justure from his own training.

 

Corizon took his ready position, his arms in front of him, bent upward with his hands facing forward with his fingers and claws in an attacking formation. The strong armed Jalarian squatted slight and extended his arms infront of him, bending them slightly with open palms.

 

“Come,” Corizon said. “Start counter…”

 

A computerized beep echoed across the chamber as the Jalarain lumbered forward. He knew he had strength on his side, but that the Dameon would be quick… and brutal in his strikes. Lunging forward he thrust the might of his weight and inertia into a palm strike destined for Corizon’s chest.

 

Waiting till the behemoth was upon him, Corizon moved suddenly, quicker than the Jalarian—or any one in the room—thought possible and launched into a spinning corkscrew kick that landed a heavy heal to the Jalarians lower neck, causing him to fall to the ground with a heavy thud.

 

Landing then quickly placing an elbow to the back of Telbek’s thoat. “Yield?”

 

“Yield,” the Jalarian sputtered.

 

“Computer, time?”

 

The computer beeped before responding. “15 seconds.”

 

Letting the Jalarian stand up, Corizon triumphantly smirked at the group of rather stunned onlookers. “We have a bench mark, who’d like to challenge it?”