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Star Trek: Victorious - Heritage (Fan-Fic)
ryan218
Member Posts: 36,106 Arc User
"I feel like a Bellhop." Ryan stands in front of a mirror in his Ready Room, wearing a Jupiter-4 Uniform, with a scarlet red main jacket, parted by white paneling down the middle. His trousers are navy grey with scarlet red stripes down the sides. Attached to his left hip by a magnetic mounting is a sheath for a sabre, made of black leather (replicated, he hopes) with a bronze band at the top and a bronze tip at the bottom. His shoulders are braided with strands of gold rope.
"Permission to speak freely?" Tala is standing behind him, looking at the uniform with a small degree of pride.
"Permission granted." Ryan sighs as he turns around.
"It's either wear an adapted Starfleet Uniform or wear three layers of woollen tunic, a massive furskin hat and flat-soled boots in London City. Even in winter, that is going to get hot." She walks over and adjusts the sheath slightly, angling it forward by a few degrees. "And you agreed to be present as a guest of honour for Prince Michael, so, with respect, deal with it."
"I still don't understand why I have to dress up like Arthur-freaking-Wellesley!"
"Because you're being asked to take part in your capacity as a UK citizen, not just a Starfleet Officer. You're going to be part of--"
"A 2,000-man parade consisting entirely of Starfleet Officers from the United Kingdom. I know."
"Look at it this way, at least you're not wearing an Imperial Guard Parade uniform." Tala smiles slightly as she walks over to the replicator.
"That's why I asked you to help me prepare for this. I could have asked Carter, but he doesn't know that much about British heritage. Dannover would think this is excessive. Alpha just wouldn't understand at all."
"With respect, Captain, I'm hardly experienced with your heritage."
"No, but Andorians do have a strong military tradition. You yourself performed your basic training with the Imperial Guard. You know more about this than the rest of the senior staff."
Tala thinks on that before nodding in agreement. "Alright, fair enough." She walks over to the replicator and takes a metal blade - with a leather handle and bronze guard and hilt, with the blade curving upwards along the edge, less than two inches wide at the hilt - and carries it over, letting it rest in her palms. "You're not expected to master fencing in two days, don't worry." She lets off a light smirk.
"Oh, good." Ryan smirks back with more than a little sarcasm.
Tala continues, "I did some research when I replicated this to get an idea of what I was dealing with. It's a cavalry sabre, strong; light; long enough that a mounted officer can strike at foot soldiers beneath him but short enough that he can use it on foot." She hands it to Ryan, who holds it at the hilt, admiring the balance. "How is it?"
Ryan looks at her curiously. "Tala, how long did you spend in the replicator making this?"
"About 10 minutes, long enough to get the dimensions for the material right. I sharpened it and adjusted the balance myself."
Ryan now shifts his expression to surprise. "You crafted this?"
"Sir, I come from a planet where military service is considered not just a positive attribute, but practically a way of life. We put a lot of emphasis on the nobility of military service - of fighting for your people over yourself. We don't just have a great military tradition, our society revolves around martial talent. At school, if you're learning how to use a weapon, you're taught how to craft your own. Besides,..." She smiles as she leans against the wall, "I wouldn't dream of giving a comrade a defective blade."
"Fair enough. This is very well balanced." He makes a few sweeping motions with the blade, before sheathing it.
"Let's hope you don't need to use it."
"Lieutenant, it's a ceremonial function. Besides, I'll be carrying a Type 3 Phaser Rifle as part of the parade, along with the Coldstream Guards and 2,000 other Starfleet Officers."
"For the coronation of a new king in a ceremony which is being transmitted across the Federation. Can you think of a better platform for a demoralising strike, especially with Earth-Federal ties as strained as they are right now? Even Andoria has been considering negotiating a separate peace with the Klingons."
Ryan shakes his head, "Tala, has anyone ever told you you're paranoid?"
"I'm chief of security. It's in the job description." She smirks before picking up a PADD. "You'll be marching from Horse Guard's Parade, saluting the World War Memorial Cenotaph as you pass it. You'll then proceed past Westminster Palace, stopping for a gun salute from both the Horse Guard's Parade and the HMS Belfast. Afterwards, you'll continue to Buckingham Palace where you, along with 99 other officers, will meet with Prince Michael upon his arrival and have a formal audience with him inside the palace one hour prior to the coronation ceremony."
"What about a naval uniform?"
"Sir?"
Ryan is looking in the mirror again. "Those are more comfortable. Do you think I could get away with a naval uniform?"
Tala smiles, shaking her head. "No."
***
Three hours later, Tala is sitting in her quarters going over drill reports. Her Quarters are relatively standard, save for a case lying on the coffee table plus a wall mount holding what appears to be an Andorian version of a short sword, with a curved twin-edge moving into a point as well as a bladed guard reminiscent of that on a mek'leth. It has a small plaque beneath it with characters in an Andorian script. Next to it is a dark blue uniform jacket, with a small Andorian name tag on the left. The jacket has many pockets, as well as a light teal highlight along the inner edge of the shoulders and running down either side to the hips. Beneath the jacket is a military grey sweatshirt made of a soft-looking wool- or cotton-like fabric, as well as a folded set of trousers.
As Tala finishes one set of drill reports, making note of security personnel she needs to arrange one-to-one training with, the sound of the door chime rings out through the room. "Who is it?"
"It's me, Lieutenant." Ryan's voice rings out over the speakers.
"Open." Tala stands up as Ryan walks in - wearing his regular uniform - carrying the sheathed sabre in his hand. "Captain."
Ryan holds a hand out to relax. "As you were, lieutenant. I'm not here on business. Actually, I was here to talk."
"Sir?"
"About how irritatingly infectious your paranoia is." There's a hint of mocked frustration in his voice. "I was wondering if you could teach me how to keep myself from cutting my own hand off if I do have to draw this thing." He holds the sword up slightly for emphasis.
"Of course. Give me a few minutes."
Ryan nods. "Take as long as you need." He looks around the Quarters, shivering slightly at the lowered environmental control setting; 17 degrees Celsius. He then looks at the sword on the wall, before looking at Tala. "Yours?"
Tala looks over, smiling as she puts on her uniform jacket. "It was a gift from my instructor at Basic. It's a Foshaan, a short sword used by ancient Andorian armies as an infantry weapon when the enemy was too close for ranged weapons. 'Elegant but deadly'."
"A message?" Ryan smiles curiously.
"Honestly, blades aren't my best discipline." She walks over to the case on the coffee table and opens it. "On Andoria, we're encouraged at a young age, usually around adolescence, to choose a combat discipline to master. Usually, it's Ushaan, because it has such a great cultural significance, but recently a lot of my people have chosen other disciplines. Think of it like on Earth, where children are encouraged to take up a hobby."
"So, you're trained for combat from youth, like Klingons?"
"Not exactly. Klingons put an emphasis on personal honour. Andorians put an emphasis on duty. Klingons place an emphasis on weapons as an extension of oneself. Andorians focus on how you use the weapon in conjunction with yourself. Klingons adapt to the weapon, the weapon adapts to us."
"So what was yours? When I was making plastic models of the Enterprise-D, how were you learning to beat the tar out of someone?"
"Using the first weapon anyone learns to use. Myself. I hate the Ushaan."
"Why do you say that?"
"It's about as long as a regular knife, but it arcs out to a 180-degree angle. At that point, the blade itself is a hindrance. When you try to stab someone, the blade is slowing itself down once it makes contact. With a typical knife, once it goes in, it becomes easier for the knife to travel deeper because the bleed is straight. A Ushaan is always curved. It's meant for slashing, not stabbing. That makes it an inconvenient close-range weapon against more lethal weapons. That and I have a bias against serrated weapons. They take more force to remove than they do to drive in. Plus, as a security officer, I prefer to take prisoners alive. A serated knife guts the enemy as it's pulled out."
"I get the point. No pun intended. So you trained in hand-to-hand?"
"I had a tendency to get beaten up in school. Once I learnt how to fight, most of the bullies left me alone."
"And the rest?"
"They decided to start setting regular dates for a trip to the infirmary with bruised ribs and cut knuckles."
Ryan raises an eyebrow before walking over to the case. "So what's in the case?"
"When we start our training in school, we have to choose an armed discipline to learn, even if we prefer unarmed combat. So, I chose Tokanaan." In the case is a black-painted metal baton, with a second handle perpendicular to the shaft, but curved to allow ergonomic switching between the two handles as well as allowing the handle to be flipped so it can be held both ways round.
Ryan cracks a light smirk, "I didn't think you for a gymnast, Tala."
"Funny." She slowly lifts it out of the padding. "It's designed like a human nightstick, only this is intended to be a primary weapon as opposed to a support weapon. It's light, balanced and the handles allow you to quickly switch between four different stances, like this." She starts holding it by the perpendicular handle, with the shaft flowing along her forearm. "Full defence, so you can protect yourself from an opponent's strike, but are basically restricted to pushing strikes." She then spins it along the handle so the shaft is pointing outwards. "This is good if you need to quickly guard your face and can't get your arm up fast enough. It's also good as a back sweeping strike." She then quickly shifts her hand to the parallel handle, now holding it like a regular baton with the second handle flowing along the thumb. "Club the enemy. Not good for defence unless it's a competitive match."
"Why would a competitive match be different?"
"You see the small depression half way up the shaft?" She quickly wraps her free hand around it. "This way, you can block in this stance and actually hold the block, but your fingers are vulnerable. In a Tokanaan match, both competitors wear gloves that protect the back of the palm, the knuckles and the first segment of each finger and the thumb. Otherwise, you'd have to be stupid to seriously assume this stance." She returns to the regular offensive stance, before spinning the handle so the shaft is running along her arm again. "Same advantages as the first, but this one has the issue that your hand is exposed and it's a little trickier to maintain, but it has the advantage that with the perpendicular handle pointed away from you, you can use it to block and catch an opponent's weapon." She puts the Tokanaan back in the case.
"Impressive."
"It's versatile. That's why I like it. You can use it offensively and defensively just as effectively." She smiles at the weapon as it lies in the case. "One of the things on Andoria is that when you choose your first weapon, you craft it yourself, so it's suited to you. It took me a while to grow into it, since it was designed so I could still use it in my prime, but it was worth the wait. The movements almost feel natural now."
"You know, it just occurred to me how little I actually know about your history, lieutenant."
Tala smiles back at him. "Maybe I'll tell you about it sometime. Anyway, you wanted to figure out how to keep your arm attached to your shoulder, sir?"
***
Two days later, Ryan is back on board the Victorious after having completed the parade. As he materialises in a blue haze of light on the transporter pad, Commander Michael Carter and Tala are waiting for him.
"Captain on deck!" Carter steps forwards and gives Ryan a brief salute. "I surrender command to you as of this startime, Captain. Welcome back."
"Thank you, Commander." Ryan nods as he steps off the pad and unzips the top of the collar for his jacket. "Let the record stand that dress uniform is to consist of Jupiter-4 uniforms of this specification."
"Sir?"
"Do you have a hearing problem, Commander?"
"No sir. I'll enter it into the log."
"Very good." Ryan starts walking towards the door, with Tala and Carter following, glancing at each other with bemusement.
Tala steps up beside Ryan as the walk through the corridors. "Did you enjoy the parade, Captain?"
"Uh-huh." Ryan responds vaguely, with just a hint of humour as he turns the corridor towards the turbolift. "By the way, Mike, I understand it was your idea to modify the Jupiter-4 uniform with a wollen hem-lining."
"Yes sir?" Michael looks at him in affirmation, albeit sheepishly.
"Nice job." If Ryan's tone contained more sarcasm, it would be bleeding onto the deckplate.
After a matter of minutes, they walk onto the Bridge, with Ryan making a bee-line to the Ready Room. "You have the Bridge, Commander." Carter gives a quick affirmative before taking the centre chair. "I'd like the uniform changes implemented by Gamma-Shift tomorrow."
"Aye sir."
As Ryan reaches the door, he turns back to Carter, a sadistic look on his face. "By the way..."
"Sir?"
"Admiral Quinn will be making an inspection of the ship on Tuesday. Dress Uniforms for all senior staff. No excuses."
"You're joking?" Ryan smirks as he walks into his Ready Room. "He is joking? Right?"
Alpha turns in his seat. "Admiral Quinn is indeed making an inspection on Tuesday, sir."
Tala leans over from her Tactical station directly behind Carter. "Look on the bright side, sir. You look good in red."
Carter looks at the viewscreen blank-faced, before slipping back in his seat and raising both eyebrows.
***
Author's Notes:
Firstly, thank you for taking the time to read this short story. This takes place immediately after 'Old Wounds' (see my signature). If you guys would like me to shine the spotlight on any of my other characters (this one being intended to spotlight Tala Tr'zanac), please mention down below.
As always, feedback and constructive critique is welcome.
"Permission to speak freely?" Tala is standing behind him, looking at the uniform with a small degree of pride.
"Permission granted." Ryan sighs as he turns around.
"It's either wear an adapted Starfleet Uniform or wear three layers of woollen tunic, a massive furskin hat and flat-soled boots in London City. Even in winter, that is going to get hot." She walks over and adjusts the sheath slightly, angling it forward by a few degrees. "And you agreed to be present as a guest of honour for Prince Michael, so, with respect, deal with it."
"I still don't understand why I have to dress up like Arthur-freaking-Wellesley!"
"Because you're being asked to take part in your capacity as a UK citizen, not just a Starfleet Officer. You're going to be part of--"
"A 2,000-man parade consisting entirely of Starfleet Officers from the United Kingdom. I know."
"Look at it this way, at least you're not wearing an Imperial Guard Parade uniform." Tala smiles slightly as she walks over to the replicator.
"That's why I asked you to help me prepare for this. I could have asked Carter, but he doesn't know that much about British heritage. Dannover would think this is excessive. Alpha just wouldn't understand at all."
"With respect, Captain, I'm hardly experienced with your heritage."
"No, but Andorians do have a strong military tradition. You yourself performed your basic training with the Imperial Guard. You know more about this than the rest of the senior staff."
Tala thinks on that before nodding in agreement. "Alright, fair enough." She walks over to the replicator and takes a metal blade - with a leather handle and bronze guard and hilt, with the blade curving upwards along the edge, less than two inches wide at the hilt - and carries it over, letting it rest in her palms. "You're not expected to master fencing in two days, don't worry." She lets off a light smirk.
"Oh, good." Ryan smirks back with more than a little sarcasm.
Tala continues, "I did some research when I replicated this to get an idea of what I was dealing with. It's a cavalry sabre, strong; light; long enough that a mounted officer can strike at foot soldiers beneath him but short enough that he can use it on foot." She hands it to Ryan, who holds it at the hilt, admiring the balance. "How is it?"
Ryan looks at her curiously. "Tala, how long did you spend in the replicator making this?"
"About 10 minutes, long enough to get the dimensions for the material right. I sharpened it and adjusted the balance myself."
Ryan now shifts his expression to surprise. "You crafted this?"
"Sir, I come from a planet where military service is considered not just a positive attribute, but practically a way of life. We put a lot of emphasis on the nobility of military service - of fighting for your people over yourself. We don't just have a great military tradition, our society revolves around martial talent. At school, if you're learning how to use a weapon, you're taught how to craft your own. Besides,..." She smiles as she leans against the wall, "I wouldn't dream of giving a comrade a defective blade."
"Fair enough. This is very well balanced." He makes a few sweeping motions with the blade, before sheathing it.
"Let's hope you don't need to use it."
"Lieutenant, it's a ceremonial function. Besides, I'll be carrying a Type 3 Phaser Rifle as part of the parade, along with the Coldstream Guards and 2,000 other Starfleet Officers."
"For the coronation of a new king in a ceremony which is being transmitted across the Federation. Can you think of a better platform for a demoralising strike, especially with Earth-Federal ties as strained as they are right now? Even Andoria has been considering negotiating a separate peace with the Klingons."
Ryan shakes his head, "Tala, has anyone ever told you you're paranoid?"
"I'm chief of security. It's in the job description." She smirks before picking up a PADD. "You'll be marching from Horse Guard's Parade, saluting the World War Memorial Cenotaph as you pass it. You'll then proceed past Westminster Palace, stopping for a gun salute from both the Horse Guard's Parade and the HMS Belfast. Afterwards, you'll continue to Buckingham Palace where you, along with 99 other officers, will meet with Prince Michael upon his arrival and have a formal audience with him inside the palace one hour prior to the coronation ceremony."
"What about a naval uniform?"
"Sir?"
Ryan is looking in the mirror again. "Those are more comfortable. Do you think I could get away with a naval uniform?"
Tala smiles, shaking her head. "No."
***
Three hours later, Tala is sitting in her quarters going over drill reports. Her Quarters are relatively standard, save for a case lying on the coffee table plus a wall mount holding what appears to be an Andorian version of a short sword, with a curved twin-edge moving into a point as well as a bladed guard reminiscent of that on a mek'leth. It has a small plaque beneath it with characters in an Andorian script. Next to it is a dark blue uniform jacket, with a small Andorian name tag on the left. The jacket has many pockets, as well as a light teal highlight along the inner edge of the shoulders and running down either side to the hips. Beneath the jacket is a military grey sweatshirt made of a soft-looking wool- or cotton-like fabric, as well as a folded set of trousers.
As Tala finishes one set of drill reports, making note of security personnel she needs to arrange one-to-one training with, the sound of the door chime rings out through the room. "Who is it?"
"It's me, Lieutenant." Ryan's voice rings out over the speakers.
"Open." Tala stands up as Ryan walks in - wearing his regular uniform - carrying the sheathed sabre in his hand. "Captain."
Ryan holds a hand out to relax. "As you were, lieutenant. I'm not here on business. Actually, I was here to talk."
"Sir?"
"About how irritatingly infectious your paranoia is." There's a hint of mocked frustration in his voice. "I was wondering if you could teach me how to keep myself from cutting my own hand off if I do have to draw this thing." He holds the sword up slightly for emphasis.
"Of course. Give me a few minutes."
Ryan nods. "Take as long as you need." He looks around the Quarters, shivering slightly at the lowered environmental control setting; 17 degrees Celsius. He then looks at the sword on the wall, before looking at Tala. "Yours?"
Tala looks over, smiling as she puts on her uniform jacket. "It was a gift from my instructor at Basic. It's a Foshaan, a short sword used by ancient Andorian armies as an infantry weapon when the enemy was too close for ranged weapons. 'Elegant but deadly'."
"A message?" Ryan smiles curiously.
"Honestly, blades aren't my best discipline." She walks over to the case on the coffee table and opens it. "On Andoria, we're encouraged at a young age, usually around adolescence, to choose a combat discipline to master. Usually, it's Ushaan, because it has such a great cultural significance, but recently a lot of my people have chosen other disciplines. Think of it like on Earth, where children are encouraged to take up a hobby."
"So, you're trained for combat from youth, like Klingons?"
"Not exactly. Klingons put an emphasis on personal honour. Andorians put an emphasis on duty. Klingons place an emphasis on weapons as an extension of oneself. Andorians focus on how you use the weapon in conjunction with yourself. Klingons adapt to the weapon, the weapon adapts to us."
"So what was yours? When I was making plastic models of the Enterprise-D, how were you learning to beat the tar out of someone?"
"Using the first weapon anyone learns to use. Myself. I hate the Ushaan."
"Why do you say that?"
"It's about as long as a regular knife, but it arcs out to a 180-degree angle. At that point, the blade itself is a hindrance. When you try to stab someone, the blade is slowing itself down once it makes contact. With a typical knife, once it goes in, it becomes easier for the knife to travel deeper because the bleed is straight. A Ushaan is always curved. It's meant for slashing, not stabbing. That makes it an inconvenient close-range weapon against more lethal weapons. That and I have a bias against serrated weapons. They take more force to remove than they do to drive in. Plus, as a security officer, I prefer to take prisoners alive. A serated knife guts the enemy as it's pulled out."
"I get the point. No pun intended. So you trained in hand-to-hand?"
"I had a tendency to get beaten up in school. Once I learnt how to fight, most of the bullies left me alone."
"And the rest?"
"They decided to start setting regular dates for a trip to the infirmary with bruised ribs and cut knuckles."
Ryan raises an eyebrow before walking over to the case. "So what's in the case?"
"When we start our training in school, we have to choose an armed discipline to learn, even if we prefer unarmed combat. So, I chose Tokanaan." In the case is a black-painted metal baton, with a second handle perpendicular to the shaft, but curved to allow ergonomic switching between the two handles as well as allowing the handle to be flipped so it can be held both ways round.
Ryan cracks a light smirk, "I didn't think you for a gymnast, Tala."
"Funny." She slowly lifts it out of the padding. "It's designed like a human nightstick, only this is intended to be a primary weapon as opposed to a support weapon. It's light, balanced and the handles allow you to quickly switch between four different stances, like this." She starts holding it by the perpendicular handle, with the shaft flowing along her forearm. "Full defence, so you can protect yourself from an opponent's strike, but are basically restricted to pushing strikes." She then spins it along the handle so the shaft is pointing outwards. "This is good if you need to quickly guard your face and can't get your arm up fast enough. It's also good as a back sweeping strike." She then quickly shifts her hand to the parallel handle, now holding it like a regular baton with the second handle flowing along the thumb. "Club the enemy. Not good for defence unless it's a competitive match."
"Why would a competitive match be different?"
"You see the small depression half way up the shaft?" She quickly wraps her free hand around it. "This way, you can block in this stance and actually hold the block, but your fingers are vulnerable. In a Tokanaan match, both competitors wear gloves that protect the back of the palm, the knuckles and the first segment of each finger and the thumb. Otherwise, you'd have to be stupid to seriously assume this stance." She returns to the regular offensive stance, before spinning the handle so the shaft is running along her arm again. "Same advantages as the first, but this one has the issue that your hand is exposed and it's a little trickier to maintain, but it has the advantage that with the perpendicular handle pointed away from you, you can use it to block and catch an opponent's weapon." She puts the Tokanaan back in the case.
"Impressive."
"It's versatile. That's why I like it. You can use it offensively and defensively just as effectively." She smiles at the weapon as it lies in the case. "One of the things on Andoria is that when you choose your first weapon, you craft it yourself, so it's suited to you. It took me a while to grow into it, since it was designed so I could still use it in my prime, but it was worth the wait. The movements almost feel natural now."
"You know, it just occurred to me how little I actually know about your history, lieutenant."
Tala smiles back at him. "Maybe I'll tell you about it sometime. Anyway, you wanted to figure out how to keep your arm attached to your shoulder, sir?"
***
Two days later, Ryan is back on board the Victorious after having completed the parade. As he materialises in a blue haze of light on the transporter pad, Commander Michael Carter and Tala are waiting for him.
"Captain on deck!" Carter steps forwards and gives Ryan a brief salute. "I surrender command to you as of this startime, Captain. Welcome back."
"Thank you, Commander." Ryan nods as he steps off the pad and unzips the top of the collar for his jacket. "Let the record stand that dress uniform is to consist of Jupiter-4 uniforms of this specification."
"Sir?"
"Do you have a hearing problem, Commander?"
"No sir. I'll enter it into the log."
"Very good." Ryan starts walking towards the door, with Tala and Carter following, glancing at each other with bemusement.
Tala steps up beside Ryan as the walk through the corridors. "Did you enjoy the parade, Captain?"
"Uh-huh." Ryan responds vaguely, with just a hint of humour as he turns the corridor towards the turbolift. "By the way, Mike, I understand it was your idea to modify the Jupiter-4 uniform with a wollen hem-lining."
"Yes sir?" Michael looks at him in affirmation, albeit sheepishly.
"Nice job." If Ryan's tone contained more sarcasm, it would be bleeding onto the deckplate.
After a matter of minutes, they walk onto the Bridge, with Ryan making a bee-line to the Ready Room. "You have the Bridge, Commander." Carter gives a quick affirmative before taking the centre chair. "I'd like the uniform changes implemented by Gamma-Shift tomorrow."
"Aye sir."
As Ryan reaches the door, he turns back to Carter, a sadistic look on his face. "By the way..."
"Sir?"
"Admiral Quinn will be making an inspection of the ship on Tuesday. Dress Uniforms for all senior staff. No excuses."
"You're joking?" Ryan smirks as he walks into his Ready Room. "He is joking? Right?"
Alpha turns in his seat. "Admiral Quinn is indeed making an inspection on Tuesday, sir."
Tala leans over from her Tactical station directly behind Carter. "Look on the bright side, sir. You look good in red."
Carter looks at the viewscreen blank-faced, before slipping back in his seat and raising both eyebrows.
***
Author's Notes:
Firstly, thank you for taking the time to read this short story. This takes place immediately after 'Old Wounds' (see my signature). If you guys would like me to shine the spotlight on any of my other characters (this one being intended to spotlight Tala Tr'zanac), please mention down below.
As always, feedback and constructive critique is welcome.
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