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Fighting Spirit

Posted on Tue Dec 4th, 2018 @ 8:58am by Major Karbainov Gennadiyevich Ph.D

Mission: The Light of Emmah
Timeline: 0800 the Day after 'Forming Up'

PT had gone about as well as could be expected, surprisingly only one person did not show up, and they had a legitimate medical excuse that had been properly filed before the start of their shift… Karbainov was almost speechless. And, that the unit didn’t completely fall apart as they ran through the more deserted parts of the ship this morning gave him some hope. He was slowly moving away from the gnashing of teeth level of anxiety he had when he reviewed the roster.

Having just changed in his office he walked out in his Gi, adjusting the thick wool belt and looking around. His four Klingons were all sparing together and exclusively together. ‘Well time to break that up..’

“You guys mind if I join you?” He asked with a smile. They all had at least a six inches and 50lbs on him.

“No Captain, which one of us would you like to spar with…” the tallest of the group replied, N’vor.

“How about all of you… at once..” the Russian replied, smile fading in an instant. He turned and walked out into the center of the nearest mat large enough to accommodate a group fight. It took the Klingons a moment to realize he was not joking.

N’vor, D’kath, Krath, and Lurath stood in a circle around him, unsure of themselves. “Full force, Subdual… you can start when you are ready…” Karbainov said, taking a boxers stance, hands up in front of his face, clenched fists.

N’vor took his chance almost immediately, standing behind the captain he lunged…

And soon found himself looking to the ceiling, the boxing stance had been a faint and disapeared the moment he moved. The Captain already launching an attack at Krath, who was surprised by the sudden onslaught and caught a hot and fast leg sweep, ending up face down on the mat.

There were still two Klingons and N’vor was getting back up. The first blow to strike Karbainov hit him on the side of the head. Stars blurred through his vision, but he was already on autopilot, well trained and practiced moves coming out fluidly. He rolled with it the best he could, launching an elbow into his attackers face, breaking a nose.

Two hands clenched together in a angry sledgehammer, the other Klingon caught his chest, the blow connecting with a loud crack and wet crunch. Another spin with the force of the blow and a quick step back Karbainov limped out of distance for a second, clutching his chest. His breathing was now painful, but he knew from experience that the damage was not fatal. Training and experience pushed through the pain even harder now. He was glad his men were not taking it easy on him. ‘This is how you stay sharp…’ he thought to himself as he sized up his remaining opponents.

“You can… tap out now sir…” N’vor growled, a wide stance, ready to tackle the Captain.

“And where would the fun in that be?” Karbainov attacked, catching N’vor by surprize and knocking him out of the fight with a well placed and sudden elbow and knee combination. Another blow to the head, this one by Krath left the Russian staggering a little, but still aware enough to launch a leg sweep, knocking him back on the mat. A wild haymaker was intercepted and turned into a throw, slamming one Klingon on top of another and taking the fight out of two of them at once. Krath was back up though and ticked off.

More cautious now, Krath watched his footwork noticing the Captain was employing a lot of Judo moves. However, still lunging forward to trade power for speed in too wide of a stance, Karbainov was able to get on the inside of the attack, taking Korg to mat and putting him in an arm bar. The Klingon tapped out. Karbainov laid on the mat for a moment, gasping for air before sitting up, very painfully to the sound of laughter.

The Klingons were all quite amused and pleased to have found a worthy opponent. And indeed the whole unit was taking notice of what was going on, as all activity in the room had stopped.

“Fighting spirit…” Karbainov shouted, trying not to weeze. “The difference between victory and defeat in all we do.”

He stood up, very slowly bowed, not sure if he would remain conscious during any quick movements. The bow was returned by all four Klingons, who already showed little signs of the fight they had just been in. They turned to look a the First Sergeant who had just arrived.

“Sick bay, all of you.” He said flatly, unamused at the little display of testosterone. He turned to look at Karbainov.

“I should warn sick bay they are coming. Good bout gentlemen.” The russian turned and walked back to his office. Slowly. The minute he was through the door he collapsed on the small couch and let himself gasp for air for a moment.

“I know why you did it… I know how you did it… but still…” The first sargent stepped into the room with a medical kit, the tricorder already out. He shook his head.

=/\= “Medical Emergency, Marine Commander’s office.” =/\=

“I’m fine… I’ve been through worse…” but the russian knew given the look on his friend's face that no ammount of protesting would change his mind.

 

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