Defending Yourselves

Posted on Sat Jan 10th, 2026 @ 10:04pm by Lieutenant Bailey Good & Lieutenant Irynya & Lieutenant Xex Wang & Lieutenant Axod Qo & Ensign Tamblem Dravor & Lieutenant JG Kestrel & Lieutenant JG Declan

Mission: Port of Call
Location: Security Dojo [Deck 5]
Timeline: Mission Day 15 at 0730

[Security Dojo]
[Deck 5]
[Day 15, 0730 Hours]

"The time is 0730 Hours." The computer's passive, flat tone reminded Good and stirred her from staring in to the space between her nose and the armory desk. Her dark gaze flicked up to the door and she lifted her cheek from the roll of her knuckles. Her free hand spun deftly her stylus- an anachronism to some, but Bailey wasn't all that fond of punching keys and leaving fingerprints.

She sighed. She rose. An over-preparer by nature, Bailey had already dressed for what was to come- a SOJO tank top and the requisite support garments. Loose black yoga pants. Textured socks with grip. She turned. She pushed in her chair with the whisper of antigrav easing it in to place. She strode behind, toward the large blast door, taking a moment to loosen for stiff shoulder. She crossed it over herself and held it in mid stride.

The doors parted to the security dojo. She paused, gave it the requisite polite bow and stood on the raised step. She waited for the arrival of the crew that had wanted this session. Whether it was one or turned in to a hundred sessions, Bailey had deemed this worth security's time. None of them were soldiers. They were out here to explore. But in the intervening years from now back to the Dominion War, only the Mars incident had stirred any mandate to assure competency beyond the basic Academy course for most personnel.

Drol was already in the dojo, just palming her locker shut with a quiet hiss. She was dressed in comfortable, nondescript work-out clothing that looked like it had seen better days, the SOJO on her chest scuffed, the close-fitting sweats faded. Her long hair had been pulled back into two glossy black braids, and pinned closely along the bottom of her skull to keep them out of the way. As Good entered, she gave her the requisite salute, then stepped to the side of her locker and stood, relaxed, her hands clasped behind her back, trying her best to simply be another piece of equipment in the practice area.

"Drol," Good greeted with the nod of her head.

Taking that as a good sign despite not yet knowing Good well, Drol nodded back and kept her mouth shut.

Irynya hadn't been sure what to wear. Did one wear the same attire one wore while at the gym for a training like this? She suspected as much, but the question still nudged at the back of her mind when she stepped into the armory. It was a quiet, pristine place and she realized she'd never been in this room before. The last time she'd done any practice of this sort it had been on the holodeck. She paused inside the doors, scanning the walls where phaser rifles, type two phasers, and other security paraphernalia were secured and displayed for easy use by the ship's security officers.

The room was empty of people, though, and so she moved past the desk to the heavy door beyond that she understood led to a space that was combination locker room and practice area. With a nervous tug to the t-shirt already threatening to climb up to her waist, she triggered the blast door and then stepped through into the space beyond. Here a wide open floor greeted her, raised like a stage. The lockers stood at one end of the room, while two wells, one on each side of the raised space, offered a place to stand.

"Umm, hi," she said, spotting the newly minted Security Chief and waving. "Thank you for doing this. Am I early?"

"Lieutenant," Bailey inclined her head again in greeting at the Risian. "You're on time. People are still trickling in." She assured in a steady tone.

Iry nodded, feeling more than a bit out of place. It seemed like she should already know where to stand, but given no instruction she moved toward the wall and leaned her back against it, splaying her hands flat and sticking one foot forward, toe pointed to the ceiling. The stretch at the back of her calf and down into her heel felt good and after a moment she switched to the other foot then moved on to pull her arms across her torso in turns.

Clad in a black SOJO tank top and matching shorts, Axod stepped into the dojo with quiet curiosity. He paused just inside the threshold for a moment, his dark blue eyes sweeping across the room. The training area exactly as he'd pictured and a handful of early risers were already gathering. “Morning, all,” The Doosodarian said, his voice carrying that subtle musical inflection that marked his heritage. The greeting was polite, but easy, fitting for someone who was both new to the space and comfortable in his own skin.

"Counselor," Bailey again greeted the next newcomer. She was stretching, again pulling her arm in a frame-up around her head. "Welcome. Find a spot."

With a smile of recognition the Risian waved to the Doosdarian counselor. It was good to see him there. He had been on the ship for the duration of the crisis, but had been no less exposed to the uncertainty and fear of the moment. She suspected he, like many others, were still asking themselves what they could have done differently in the moment that their friends and crewmates were taken.

Either Drol had already stretched, or was not going to do so. She remained standing with her hands clasped behind her back, nodding to each newcomer and leaving that gesture to suffice for her greeting.

It was only logical to expand his proficiency in self-defence. When Lieutenant Good announced that a refresher in combat had been scheduled, Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Declan reported at the appointed time. Dressed in the black SOJO tank and loose training pants, he stepped into the dojo to find three others already present: Lieutenants Irynya, Axod Qo, and the newly appointed Security Chief, Bailey Good.

“Good morning, Lieutenants,” he greeted, voice calm, posture measured. His expression remained typically composed, though a faint crease at the corner of his mouth suggested the smallest trace of a smile. "Thank you for offering this session, ma'am," Declan added as he gave a respectful nod.

"Declan," Bailey greeted with a nod.

The Vulcan human hybrid returned Bailey's nod with one of his own.

Iry followed suit, nodding as well to the newcomer -- a Vulcan she didn't recognize. She knew a not insignificant number of crew were coming aboard while they were at Pathfinder, but was surprised to find one of the joining their training. Not missing a beat she walked over to introduce herself, one arm cocked over her head while her opposite arm tugged her elbow toward the opposite shoulder. "Lieutenant Irynya," she said, letting her arms drop and shaking loos the stretch she'd just completed. "Chief Flight Controller." Her instinct was to offer the man her hand, but she also knew how significant hand to hand touch was to Vulcans so instead she clasped them behind her back and pulled her extended arms upward to stretch her shoulders.

"Lieutenant Declan," he nodded to Irynya, "Stellar Cartographer," Declan returned in kind.

“Axod Qo,” he introduced himself, the words carrying the gentle musical cadence so common among Doosodarians. “Counselor.” He lifted his hand in a fluid, sweeping gesture, palm open, fingers relaxed, as he offered the traditional Doosodarian greeting. The motion was graceful without being grand, a sign of welcome rather than ceremony.His warm smile followed naturally, softening the striking lines of his face.

Xex followed Declan in, walking casually so that her limp was barely noticeable, her hands clasped behind her back. In contrast to the others, she was still garbed in her usual teal uniform, sans labcoat. As she stepped into the dojo her gaze swiftly took in those who had already arrived, giving nods of greeting to all. Crossing to Good, she gave the woman a smile and said, "I am delighted you are doing this. I think it is going to be very educational." She did not elaborate on whether the education would be for her, or for others.


The door parted again, and Dravor strode through with the kind of easy confidence that came from being completely in his element. He wore a black SOJO tank that showed off arms sculpted from hours in the gym, biceps that flexed unconsciously as he moved, forearms corded with lean muscle. The distinctive Trill spots that normally disappeared beneath his uniform collar traced down his neck and continued along his shoulders and arms in symmetrical patterns, clearly visible now.

His shorts were regulation athletic wear, short and form-fitting but designed with the kind of flex-fabric that allowed full range of motion. Everything about his appearance screamed that he knew exactly what he looked like and wasn't remotely apologetic about it. "Morning," he said, his voice carrying that trademark swagger as his dark eyes swept the assembled group. A cocky grin spread across his face. "Looks like we've got a decent crowd already. Good."

Kestrel slipped in behind the Trill, making a beeline for her own locker and palming it open to drop a small towel and a water bottle into it before she closed it again. She shook her head, and chuckled at Dravor's demeanor. It was something she liked about him and something she had difficulty relating to. For most, this might be the first time they ever truly engaged with her in this kind of space. Off duty she was quiet and artistic--the picture of an Argelian. Most Argelians weren't known for their self defense skills.

A tilt of Drol's head greeted the Argelian as she came past, slightly less formal than her nods to everyone else who'd stepped in. She shared a wry look with Kestrel as if to say, "And he's at it again..."

He moved to stand near Bailey with the fluid grace of someone who spent a lot of time on training mats, rolling his shoulders back in an easy stretch. This was his domain, the dojo, hand-to-hand combat, keeping people safe through applied violence when necessary. And he was damn good at it. His grin turned slightly more predatory as he addressed the group. "Fair warning, I'm not going to go easy on you just because you're new to this."

Bailey kept her smile in about half-check. "Little steps, Dravor." Her brow rose. "We don't want to scare away people looking to make themselves better." Her nose wrinkled. She turned to the group and clapped twice. "Let's get started! Find your places! Two meters around you." She clapped again, a harsh sound. "Ten seconds!"

Enter Victoria, dressed in a comfortable tank top featuring the band "The Angriest Girl In The Alpha Quadrant" emblazoned across the front and tour dates on the back from a few years ago and regulation shorts. She was a little late and seemed hesitant. The mission had her get jumped, and Victoria wasn't ever really one for fighting up close. Her brother in law taught her a nerve pinch, and her mother taught her to throw a punch, but Victoria had almost always had a button-style type one phaser on her person at any given time of duty.

But that wasn't enough. She was tall, lean, and had the athleticism of a surfer and rock climber to anyone who'd worked out regularly.

Irynya had already moved into the position that Good had requested, snagging a position in the second row of people and doing a quick scan around herself to make sure there was two meters between herself and anyone else. She watched as Kestrel took up a position to the far side and Dravor another with the practiced confidence of someone who was not only comfortable, but at home, in the space they were in. She offered Cross an encouraging smile when the tall blonde woman entered the space and gave a small hand wave of solidarity before turning her attention back, determined not to miss anything.

Drol stepped forward onto the practice area, positioning herself near the edge, equidistant from both Kestrel and Dravor. Good had clearly given them some direction on how to be the most useful, and not clumping up seemed to be part of it. Finding herself close enough to both Irynya and Axod, she flashed them both a grin at odds with her earlier sober demeanor-- in fact, it looked a little feral, her eyeteeth just a little too pointy for comfort. "Always comforting to know the doc is in the room, right?" she asked, dark eyes glittering.

The doctor in question had not stepped onto the mat with everyone else, but had instead remained near to Good, just outside the edge of the practice area. Despite her apparently non-participation, Xex's face was alive with avid interest, as attentive a spectator as one could wish for.

Ax moved quickly to claim a spot in the open space, a touch of hurried energy in the way he slipped into place. Once there, he swung his arms around, wordlessly marking out his personal space and allowing him to shake off the residual tension of arrival.

Once grounded, he exhaled softly and let his shoulders relax, ready to listen.

Declan moved to a place so he had an unobstructed view of Bailey, he didn't want to miss anything about form and movement. Thankfully there seemed to be enough room for everyone to spread out comfortably.

"Good Morning," Bailey stood squarely in her space, her arms down in a ready position, "If you're here listening to my voice now," She looked at each new face, "I'm guessing its because you want to take back something the Kazon tried to take from us." Her eyebrows lifted up, "Our sense of safety. Readiness." She started to move, to pace the space she was in. Her hands went behind her back, "Now, Starfleet gave us the self-defense skills on the level you'd expect as peaceful professionals. Those days of the Dominion War are behind us. And between then and now, Starfleet's changed what they teach us. They listened, rightfully, that Starfleet wanted its officers focused on their roles." She tilted her head as if she was controlling an opinion, "And now we're learning. New quadrant, new encounters, new needs."

Drol's grunt of agreement sounded more like a growl, from deep in her throat, but audible only to those standing right next to her.

Irynya's eyes slide sideways to Drol who was positioned near enough to her to hear a sound, but not close enough for her to make out anything more than that. She had the sense that, under the right circumstance, Bailey Good might be willing to wax eloquent on the shortfalls of Starfleet's standard security training for non-security officers. As it was, this was something she'd sought out. She had begun looking for areas she could shore up within days of escaping Maje Subrek. Defensive--and may even some offensive--tactics were high on her list. She watched the lithe woman pace the floor and did her best to soak up every bit. Who knew what part, even of this opening speech, might be useful later.

On her side of the Dojo, Kestrel took in her newly minted chief's words almost impassively. Anyone who didn't know her might have almost thought her bored. But despite the easy exterior, was sharp focus and a ready stance.

Axod let a long breath slip from his lungs, the kind that tried to disguise unease as focus. Self-defence had never been a pillar of Doosodarian upbringing. There, conflict was something you out-thought or out-felt, not something you blocked with your forearms. Yet he clung to Good’s instructions with a kind of reverence, as if each word were a familiar liturgy. His posture tightened in quiet determination, his eyes fixed on the chief of security as though repetition alone might make the unfamiliar feel innate. There was something grounding, almost comforting, about listening to someone who moved through danger like it was a well-mapped coastline.

"By being here, you're saying you'd like more. So let's explore what more looks like."Bailey paced back and swept a finger gesture over the congregation. "We're not going to turn anyone here in to stealthy Tal Shiar agents or Orion Tatharoqi. But we are going to focus on some pragmatic skills to quickly disable an opponent by the most effective means, so that you can get away, get to a phaser, or get to safety. So are looking at the skills in," She started counting on fingers as she paced, making eye contact with each person again, "Krav Maga. Suus Mahna. Mok'Bara. These are the main pillars Starfleet teaches to us," And Bailey gestured at herself, and her fellow Security Officers. Her eyebrows rose, "Did you know, for example, that a Vulcan Nerve Pinch has very little to do with strength. And its not limited to the neck. Several cultures have learned at holds and pinches at very effective means of stopping or paralyzing a foe. Which is why I have asked Doctor Wang to be here," and Bailey gestured at the Doctor.

Xex made a gesture that was half-nod, half-bow, acknowledging Good's introduction and greeting the crowd in one movement.

Declan thought about Amarok when the Tal Shiar was mentioned. He'd told Declan about his escape from Romulus almost half way through their time on the Olympia. Not much else but promises to share more the next time they shared an assignment. He found the Romulan Reman hybrid fascinating and full of life. Declan almost felt less Vulcan when with his friend and he missed his friend.

When Bailey mentioned his people's signature technique, Declan recalled that he nearly did have the Nerve Pinch fully mastered, rarely it doesn't fully incapacitate his target. It was going to be strange getting instruction about his own people's offensive non-lethal combat skills from a non-Vulcan. It was enough for the half Vulcan half human hybrid to quirk a corner of his lips up slightly with deep internal mirth.

Iry, grinning at the recently returned Doctor, had to suppress the desire to wave. She really did need to find time to catch up with the woman and, if she was willing, ask a million probing questions about the experience of changing sexes. But that, she reminded herself, was a thought for another time. Her eyes left the doctor and shifted back to Good, waiting for what she had to say next.

"Alright people, lets bring it together!" Bailey's voice called out over the crowd. She had been pacing through the group watching but not interfering, watching what skills or lack there of that each had. As she'd mostly expected, most seemed to meet the Starfleet standard. A couple perhaps exceeded. "A lot of what Starfleet teaches in the basic course is a mixture of Vulcan Suus Mahna and Terran Judo. They form the bedrock. Defend, wait for an opportunity, don't exhaust yourself against the strength of a physically more powerful foe- a Cardassian, a Klingon." She gestured at Amarok, "Remans, Romulans. Mr. Declan," she gestured at Declan, "Of course has some advantage with his heritage as well."

Bailey continued, "So let's start with using techniques that can stun and impair even the biggest Klingon's brak'lul, or Cardassian deep circulatory system advantages. Kestrel come on up."

The small Argelian couldn't suppress a smirk of amusement as she stepped forward. Obviously she was neither Klingon nor Cardassian and, even then, offered no significant height or weight concern to Good herself. It had always been to her advantage that she was smaller because smaller opponents were regularly underestimated. With a quick half jog she stopped before Good, settling into an at ease stance with her feet at shoulder width and hands clasped behind her back. Unlike standard at ease, though, her knees remained ever so slightly bent, her weight on the front of her foot as if she might need to launch herself at the Security Chief.

Initiating practice combat, Bailey bowed to her opponent. "Kestrel. Defend yourself. Show the nice boys and girls a wrist hold." She dropped back in to a back-footed combat stance and began bouncing on the balls of her feet. Bailey deliberately did a thrusting side kick and then threw a jab aimed at Kestrel head.

With a small bow of her own, Kestrel released her hands from behind her back, bringing them to her sides where she kept them at the ready. With quick feet she danced back from the kick, but then forward again, bringing her opposite hand to grasp Good's wrist. She wrapped her fingers around the other woman's wrist as he other hand came up and tugged the woman's hand backward, holding Bailey's wrist at a near 90 degree angle from her arm. Though she knew she had Bailey in the right hold, she remained balanced on the balls of her feet, ready to move again if needs be.

Bailey went to her knees with an involuntary move, and though pain mildly showed on her face, Good kept her teaching face. "As you can see, Kestrel's in full control here. If I move the wrong way, she can easily break my wrist or do some tendon damage only Xex can fix with a full afternoon." She looked at Xex for her confirmation. She nodded at Kestrel as consent that she could demonstrate that level of control. "Right now I'm at a pain level of eight. So I'm going to probably do whatever she wants unless I'm throbbing with ketracel white or a full-on Klingon blood rage... or a Vulcan in Plak-tow."

"A full afternoon and the full attention of the LMH," the good doctor agreed, stepping forward. "The beauty of a hold like this," she said as she indicated the portions of Bailey's joints, "is that Kestrel does not need to be strong to maintain it. She is using the physics of her opponents physiology against her. See here, where the joint bends," Xex indicated the sharp angle of the security chief's wrist, "No matter what species of humanoid you are, if you have a musculoskeletal system, it will need connective tissue to make it work. If you bring that connective tissue to the point of failure," she stepped back, one hand behind her back one hand indicating the incapacitated Good, "Your opponent will have few choices of movement that do not result in debilitating injury. This is true of any joint; they are the weakest links in our musculoskeletal system. Even the sturdiest Cardassian has these weaknesses to some degree."

If Xex saw the scowl this elicited from the Cardassian ensign across the dojo, she ignored it.

"That said," Xex continued, raising a cautionary finger, "Angle and pressure are key. A slight change in angle, and the joint will have much less disadvantage." She met Kestrel's eye, taking another step back to give the two women room to maneuver.

Kestrel nodded to Xex and released Good, shaking out her hands as if to prepare for another round. She watched Bailey as she did so, aware that it wouldn't be smart to let down her guard, even now. Eyes still on her chief, the Argelian added for the good of the group, "That may look easy in setting like this. It may even feel a little bit easy because you're hesitant to hurt each other. But in a real combat situation the key is to quickly assess how whether you or your opponent has the advantage physically. And..." she added with a small shrug, still watching Good, "to learn the move until it becomes muscle memory so you don't have to think about it."

Bailey rose silently with a controlled lift of one knee and the other foot, pressed up. "Nice," she extended her hand to Kestrel. "Exactly," she nodded to her reference of muscle memory. "You practice over and over," Bailey's manicured brows popped, "Until its muscle memory. You don't want to over-think in a combat situation. You let your body react like it has been trained to. These kinds of holds work on the anatomy of anything with nerves and connective tissue. So let's begin. Mr. Dravor, Ms. Kestrel and myself will be around to show you proper technique. Computer, activate level one adversaries. Passive stance."

In front of each student appeared in a phase and hum a holographic sparring partner. They stood in a resting position, relaxed.

Axod took an instinctive step back as his opponent finished materializing, the hologram resolving into sharp, unsettling clarity. “I…umm… hello,” he offered awkwardly, the greeting slipping out before he could stop himself, as if politeness might somehow apply even here.

His feet shifted almost of their own accord, light and uncertain, tracing a cautious sidestep as he began to circle the holographic figure. He could feel his pulse quicken, awareness narrowing to distance, timing, breath. This wasn’t his element, Doosodarians weren’t known for physical confrontation, but he forced himself to stay present, to trust the training he’d been given.

When the opening came, Axod moved without thinking. He lunged forward, quick and surprisingly fluid, closing the gap in a single motion. His hands snapped up, finding the opponent’s wrists just as he’d been shown, fingers locking into place with practiced precision. For a brief moment he held there, balanced, focused, almost startled by his own effectiveness, before the simulation adjusted in response, ready to test whether he could maintain control.

A moment after the hologram appeared in front of Declan, his Vulcan heritage helped him close the distance between them quickly and his hand snaked out to the hologram's neck. Immediately his hand assumed the Vulcan neck pinch technique and Declan pinched harder than he would normally. The hologram dropped to the floor. A slight pull at the corner of his mouth, just a hint of a smirk.

Dravor moved through the rows of students with the ease of someone who'd done this a hundred times before. His eyes tracked movements, body positioning, weight distribution. He paused beside one of the newer crew members struggling with their stance. "Feet shoulder-width apart," he said, not unkindly, demonstrating the position. "You want a stable base. If you're off balance, your opponent's already won."

He circled around to Axod, watching the counselor's wrist lock technique. "Not bad," Dravor offered with an approving nod. "Good commitment on the lunge. But watch your follow-through. Once you've got the lock, you want to maintain pressure here," he tapped his own wrist to demonstrate, "and be ready to pivot if they try to counter. These things don't happen in isolation."

Moving on, he caught sight of someone's elbow flaring out during an attempted strike. "Keep that elbow in," he called out, stepping over to physically adjust their arm position. "You're telegraphing your move and leaving yourself open. Tight, controlled movements. Make them count."

He glanced back toward Bailey and Kestrel, making sure he wasn't stepping on anyone's toes or contradicting their instruction, then continued his circuit through the room. This was familiar territory. Comfortable. And honestly? He was pretty good at it.

Bailey nodded, pleased, as she surveyed each novice and their holographic combatant, taking note of who needed help and who seemed to have a grasp of the situation. This was not a one-day, one-off undertaking. This was going to take time, patience, and a few dozen bruises.

A Post By:

Lieutenant Bailey Good
Chief of Security

Lieutenant Irynya
Chief Flight Controller

Lieutenant Xex Wang
Chief Medical Officer

Lieutenant Axod Qo
Chief Counselor

Lieutenant JG Declan
Scientist

Lieutenant JG Kestrel
Security/Tactical

Ensign Tamblem Dravor
Security