Chapter 19- The Art of War
I was ever so glad to be back on the ship. Being at the Starbase/truck stop made me feel dirty, although I couldn't say exactly why. Work was stressful, not because there was a sudden rash of psychosis, but being in the small office with McCoy fuming over Chekov was like sitting next to a ticking time bomb with an unknown length of fuse. I was exhausted. I felt like I had been held hostage during a bank robbery or something and I was glad to get out alive when the shift ended with no major bloodshed other than a verbal lashing to a poor intern who didn't wipe down the biobeds as fast as he would have liked.
Jim came down and tried to joke with him, but it only served to make him madder. I watched and tried to give Jim warning looks when I realized he was treading in dangerous territory. McCoy's anger seemed to move in distinct stages: shock, fury, and what may be regarded as acceptance although that part never came with resignation. Perhaps it was better described as capitulation. But there was a fourth stage that he could be pushed to that no man wanted to find himself in. Much like a wet cat, he would get eerily quiet and a blank expression would overcome his face when he was too angry to even respond. If you ever found yourself in that zone, the fear was palpable because you had no idea what was coming next.
Thank God Jim had a shred of common sense and knew when to stop just after he crossed that line with McCoy. He tried to backpedal by changing the subject to tell McCoy that he thought about his objections about me going on an away team and he was absolutely right. I should be taught some basic self defense first and Spock had agreed to show me some hand to hand combat techniques. That along with Sulu's continued training should be adequate in his estimation. Through the whole spiel, McCoy only sat there slowly blinking. I wasn't even sure he heard Jim. It was almost like he was fully catatonic and I was tempted to walk over to him and rub his sternum with my knuckles to see if he was at all responsive, but that was a painful sensation and who knew what he would do.
I changed into loose fitting clothes and was almost glad to be meeting Spock in the rec room. Getting the crap kicked out of me by him was better than 8 hours with McCoy when he was in a pissy mood. But then again, I reminded myself that he was a pacifist, so he probably wouldn't be too hard on me. I opened the door and found Spock in what looked like sweats and a white T-shirt. It was entirely appropriate for the circumstances, but it just seemed so strange. I had never seen him in anything other than his uniform, even when he was on leave that was what he wore. To see him so casually dressed seemed funny. Across the room, Sulu and Pavel were putting on their gear for fencing with grins that seemed far too wide to be casual. It was as if they knew something I didn't.
"Doctor." Spock greeted stepping toward me with a sense of purpose. "Have you prepared yourself for the evening's lessons?"
I smiled. "As much as I could, I guess. I am ready to be beaten senseless and lose to you over and over again."
He regarded me with a certain coldness in his eyes that was reflected in his voice. "Then you have already been defeated and there is no point in teaching you." I was stunned by his brutal honesty. "If you do not go into a combat situation with the mindset of being victorious, your opponent has already won. Now, I will ask you again. Have you prepared for your lessons?"
"I will take you down at least once." I revised, although secretly I scoffed at the possibility.
He paused before commenting. "A slight improvement." He stood with his hands behind his back and asked, "Have you ever read 'The Art of War' by Sun Tzu, Doctor?" When I just stared at him blankly, he took that as a negative. I had read parts of the 'Tao Te Ching'…"It was written in the 6th century BC and it is still in use today. For the purposes of hand to hand combat, several of his theories apply. First and foremost is the concept that it is not the size of your opponent, but the way in which the contest is waged that makes a difference. It will not matter how skilled I am compared to you, what will make you successful will be your ability to discover and exploit any weaknesses in my attack."
"As if you will ever make any mistakes." I muttered.
He raised an eyebrow and countered, "Weaknesses need not be errors, Doctor. I simply cannot hold every attack position simultaneously and you may have advantages at your disposal that I do not. It will be up to you to use them fearlessly. I will show you ways in which you can exploit weaknesses in someone who may attack you. Attempt to strike me, Doctor."
His face was so calm, I just couldn't make myself do it. "You want me to hit you?" I asked in disbelief.
"Yes, Doctor." He confirmed in a flat tone. "Pretend that I am a person who intends to harm you. Defend yourself." I just stood there staring at him. I couldn't imagine him ever harming me which made the prospect of actually punching him even more remote. Before I could even flinch he sprung forward and tackled me. I landed hard on the floor and opened my eyes to see him over me with his fist poised over my throat. With his face still placid, he said, "You would have been dead before you had the chance to open your eyes. You cannot hesitate for one second, Doctor. You must be ready at all times to defend yourself."
"I thought you were a pacifist!" I half laughed, my head still swimming from the unexpected impact. "I didn't think you would be so mean!"
"Being a pacifist means one does not initiate aggression, but one should protect themselves against attack. Not doing so is being a martyr, not a pacifist." He replied. "And I will do what is necessary for you to learn your lessons well, Doctor. To 'go easy' as you might call it would be doing you a great disservice in this pursuit."
He stood and extended his hand to help me up. "Now, throw several punches at me quickly. Go!" He commanded. I did as he asked and in every case he was able to block each one and redirect the force away from his body. When it was my turn to block, he threw very slow and lazy punches so I would have the chance to see them coming and position my forearm correctly to shield myself, but as the time passed he became faster and his jabs had a little bit of sting to them when I couldn't block them in time. My ribs ached from too many missed blocks, but I understood fully what he was doing. Pain was a great motivator and I found myself focusing harder to keep him from landing another shot on them. He was certainly not putting his full weight behind his thrusts, but it was enough to make me wince when he did land a hit. My opponents, he reminded me, would not be so merciful.
"You appear to have mastered the concept of defensive blocking." He stated after sometime. "We must continue to work on the speed with which you deflect incoming strikes, but I will defer until next time. Now I wish to show you offense. Another of Sun Tzu's theories states that in battle one must constantly assess the situation and be flexible in attack. Attack me." He demanded again putting his hands behind his back. I looked him over and wiped sweat out of my eyes. "What is your first instinct?" He prodded.
"Punch you in the face, I guess." I panted.
"Then do it." He replied calmly.
This is crazy.
I halfheartedly threw a punch aimed loosely at his jaw and he easily caught my fist in his hand and twisted my wrist, drawing me closer to him. "That is not the move with the highest probability of success unless I have become visually impaired or the attack comes as a complete surprise." He scolded. "However, you neglected to use an advantage that I do not possess." He pressed his thumb deep into my wrist and my fingers extended reflexively.
It took me a minute to figure it out. "My fingernails?"
"Yes, Doctor." He breathed. "Your fingernails are of a sufficient length to cause extensive injury to my eyes, nose, or mouth. Almost anything can be used as a weapon. Always keep an eye out for anything that may confer an advantage to you against your opponent. Now that your first attempt has failed, what is your next move?" He asked still holding my wrist. "Assess the situation, Doctor. What part of my body is the most exposed?"
I looked at the placement of his feet and quietly whispered, "Your groin."
His deep eyes almost sparkled. "If you can successfully strike, it is most often an effective tactic against males of humanoid species." I brought my knee up, but he turned his hip and I ended up kneeing him on the outer thigh. "What is your next move, Doctor?" He again inquired.
Once again, I took stock of the position of our bodies and exploded with excitement when I realized that my leg was now behind both of his and there was no way he could get out of it. I used my left arm to more or less clothesline him and he fell backwards over my leg to the mat with a satisfying thud.
Being a good sportsman, I extended my hand to help him up. I knew he let me win, so I didn't celebrate too much. We sparred again and again with different combinations of moves, each in slow motion so he could explain to me why a particular strategy would work or why it would fail. More often than not, I was the one lying on my back, but occasionally I would figure out a way to back him into a corner and it was encouraging.
At the end of the night's lesson, we stood facing each other. I was panting and sweating profusely. I was exhausted and very sore. All he had to show for it was a light sheen of perspiration on his forehead and I was almost offended. He could have had the decency to pretend he was at least slightly winded. "The last of Sun Tzu's tenets was the assertion that a warrior should be stealthy as well as resourceful. It is my wish that you are beginning to grasp the core principles of his teachings as it applies to self defense. As we continue to practice, the last principle will come with speed when I can no longer clearly anticipate the way in which you may attack me. Am I to understand that you wish to continue your fencing lessons with Mr. Sulu?"
"I would like to." I stated looking over at he and Pavel as they lunged forward and backward, foils flashing. Compared to this, fencing would feel like a warm-up stretch.
"Very well. I will meet with you every other night after the evening meal. Consult with Dr. McCoy to determine if such a schedule of physical exertion will be permissible." He instructed. "I will modify the timing of the lessons if required. Until the next lesson, have a peaceful rest." He bowed slightly and turned to leave.
"Thanks for teaching me, Spock." I called after him. He stopped and regarded me for a moment before walking out the door.
I tried very hard to glean some information from his face, but he was absolutely unreadable and I was left wondering what his position on this whole away team thing was. Jim was all for it, Spock seemed indifferent, and McCoy was dead set against it. I didn't really know where I fell on that spectrum. On the one hand I very much wanted to stand on the surface of another planet, one that no one had previously been on like Neil Armstrong had done on the moon. On the other, the fear and dread I saw in McCoy's eyes when he told me it could be dangerous was very real. I knew he was at times prone to exaggeration, but it didn't feel like he was being overly dramatic.
When I got back to my quarters, I winced when I pulled my shirt off. I looked down at my body and was in some strange way proud of the bruises I saw forming over my ribs and forearms. It was a good thing that the uniforms were long sleeved so no one would see, but still I thought I should tell McCoy. I wasn't sure how he would react, but I had to be up front with him. If he found out some other way, which he was always suspiciously able to do, he would either be very angry or extremely disappointed. Either prospect seemed undesirable, so I resolved to casually drop it in after I had got him in a good enough mood. But that was tomorrow, I had a long night of deep sleep ahead that I was very much looking forward to.