Subject: GRAIL: "Last Look Back" - Teaching young dogs new tricks

--Holodeck 2--

Kirby looked at the thirteen faces before him. He was clad in the

same thing they were, a tank top and workout shorts, all decorated with

one word. MARINES.

"Congratulations, Ladies!," shouted Kirby. "You have managed to

survive a firefight! Now, since you are all Marines, we know that you are

the best god-damned shots in the universe! But, what we are here today to

do is to see how you can fight! I am going to give each of you one

opportunity to bust this old man's chops!" Kirby repressed a grin at the

happy reactions from his Marines, and maintained his drill face. "And, if

this were not sweet enough of a reason to attack me, I will personally

give each man who bests me one half-pint of my personal store of tequila.

Now, later this week, I will be in a poker game with some Starfleet

ladies, and I had planned to take this tequila with me. Now, if each of

you can put me down on the mat, I won't have anything to take with me! So

c'mon, you green Marines. Make your Chief look like a fool!"

Kirby strode over to where his PADD was. "Demott! Front and

center!"

The young man jumped up and moved to stand in the center of the

mat. Kirby walked up to him. "Begin," he said.

Demott fell into a fighting stance and slowly circled the Chief,

who just stood there. Demott lunged at him, and Kirby sidestepped,

grabbed his leading arm, and flipped the young man over onto his back.

Kirby applied a wristlock to the arm he held, and looked at Demott's face,

twisted in pain. "C'mon, boy, FIGHT!" taunted the Chief. As he said

this, Demott's free hand came about and smacked Kirby right below his left

eye. Kirby let go, and rolled to the side. Demott stood and as soon as

he was on his feet, Kirby attacked with a right-left-right combo that

floored the young Marine.

"Ooooooo," came the low groans from the others.

Kirby walked over and knelt beside the unconscious Marine. Blood

trickled slowly out of a cut on his lower lip. Kirby smacked his cheeks,

and he woke up in a few seconds. Kirby helped Demott to his feet, then

motioned for him to sit down.

Kirby faced the seated Marines. "I hope that you were paying

attention. Demott made a good effort, but his heart wasn't in it because

he likes me."

An appreciative chuckle drifted around as Kirby continued. "Now,

anyone lunges at you, step the hell out of the way. Grab a part of them,

and flip them. As they hit the ground, put a joint lock on 'em. If we

were in a combat situation, Demott would have been dead after I flipped

him. Always remember the vital areas, Marines. The eyes, the throat,

under the arms, the groin. If your enemy is down, you make him stay down

for good, whether you have to stomp on his head or try and break his back,

because rest assured; that bastard would do the same to you."

Kirby looked around at the young faces. "Now. Who's next?"

--2 and a half hours later, Sickbay--

Kirby sat on the biobed and looked at the four men remaining, who

were sitting on the biobeds around him. Medical Technicians and Nurses

skittered about here and there, ministering to the miniscule fractures,

cuts, and bruises that the Marine workout had left on its participants.

Ramius looked at the balding Marine before him. "Can't say I

approve of this activity, Chief Kirby."

Kirby stared right back. "Can't say that I really care, Doctor."

William smiled as he put on his glasses to read the output of the

tricorder he held. "I've known a few Marines in my time, Chief. I know

that you fight, work, and play hard. Harder than many, in fact."

"That's right," said Kirby.

"Well, Chief, I would appreciate it greatly if you didn't make a

habit of beating the hell out of your men on my shift."

Kirby snorted once in laughter. "Request noted, Doctor."

William kept his eyes on the tricorder. "Any pain anywhere,

Chief?"

"Nope."

"Don't give me the 'Marines feel no pain' BS, Chief. I'm too old

for it."

Kirby looked the doctor up and down. "Yeah, I guess you are."

"Now, any pain?"

"Nothing a shot won't fix, Doctor."

"Well, according to this record, started today by my staff, your

men combined for a total of four mild concussions, six sprains, three

strains, a score of minor lacerations, twice that in bruises, and one

broken finger."

"Really?" questioned Kirby. "Who broke a finger?"

Ramius looked at him with a serious, objective glare. "You did."

"I don't believe it," retorted Kirby.

"Fine. You go get a Medical degree, and then you can examine

yourself. How about that, Chief?"

Kirby held up his hands in a defensive gesture. "Okay, okay,

sorry Doctor, I'll behave."

"Good," replied Ramius as he motioned to one of his techs who was

carrying a device about the size of a cracker box. "Stick your right hand

in this, and sit here for twenty minutes, Chief, then you'll be as good as

new," said William, smiling at the old man.

"Sure. Thanks, Doc," muttered the Chief as the tech set the box

on the biobed. Kirby spun around and laid down on the biobed, arranging

the bone knitter on his abdomen. He stuck his right hand in, and the tech

pressed a few buttons, then moved off, leaving Kirby lying there, waiting.

---------

A post featuring Chief Jeb Kirby, and Dr. William Ramius, my two

characters.