ch2
Andrew frowned at the padd he'd been handed. It was the assignment list for his armory personnel. They had been incorporated into the crew commanded by Lt. Malcolm Reed. Andrew's people had been small in number, but they were tough, intelligent, and resourceful, and he had been proud of them as they protected his old ship time and time again. He knew, of course, that this Enterprise had an armory crew that had also worked together for years, and was also tough, intelligent and resourceful. But somehow it didn't feel right that his crew was now subordinate to them. 'Subordinate to Malcolm Reed,' he thought darkly. But after a quick breakfast in the mess hall with Mariah and the boys, he headed down to his first day. It would only be for a short time, he reminded himself. They'd be on earth soon.
Andrew noted that his crew had been split up among the three shifts, and he saw only a couple of familiar faces as he glanced around at the alpha crew coming on duty. Lt. Reed was there, and greeted the 3 new members of the shift. "Gentlemen," he nodded, as he stood ramrod straight in front of them, "it's a pleasure to welcome you to the armory. I've reviewed your information from your ship, and tried to assign you along the lines of your expertise." He sent the other 2 on their way to the torpedo bays, then turned to Andrew. "Lt. Welles," Reed acknowledged, and held out his hand. Andrew shook it quickly, then snapped back to attention.
"As you know," Reed continued, "there can be only one armory chief, and one officer in charge of every shift." Andrew nodded solemnly. He'd expected that. "I hope you won't mind too much," Reed looked at him, "that you'll be one of the crew here. I have a 2IC, and since your people will only be here a few weeks, I didn't want to bump any of my regulars, even temporarily. You'll be assigned to the plasma cannons." "Yes, sir," Andrew's voice was clipped. Reed suddenly seemed to stare at him, and Andrew quickly asked, "was there anything else, sir?" Reed slowly shook his head, "no, that's all. You're dismissed."
Andrew worked diligently throughout the day, keeping one eye on his 2 old crewmen while still concentrating on his tasks. He wanted Reed to be impressed by his people, and impressed by him. It was kind of perverse in a way, Andrew thought as he worked, that he wanted to impress Reed while he himself hated the man with a passion.
A few days later, Andrew reported to the gym for training. He knew what was involved; he'd run pretty much the exact same training on his own ship. Most off duty personnel were there, and with his old shipmates added, the gym was crowded. Reed was in charge, of course, Andrew noted with a sigh, and he deliberately chose to stand at the back of the group. "All right," Reed called, "everyone pair up, and let's review our combinations." A MACO stepped up to Andrew, and introduced herself, "I'm Cpl. Cole, sir." They shook hands and began.
Andrew was observant as Cole used all the moves he'd grown up studying, and he was able to easily counter them all. She feinted, then drove in, but he quickly dodged, pushed her away, and struck back. This Enterprise crew didn't realize, he thought, that his crew had not only learned everything about unarmed combat from their ancestors, but had added moves from other cultures over the years as they had waited for their encounter with Archer and his ship. He could sense Cole's growing frustration as he gently tapped her on the chin, and she grabbed him to toss him over her hip. He pushed off with his feet as he felt her lift him, and he wrapped his arm around her and grabbed her by the back of her waist. In mid air, he flipped his legs high over both their heads, and bent his knees so his feet hit the deck first. Then he pushed off again with his feet, his back barely touching the floor, and pulled her over and past him. She landed with a grunt of surprise on her back, and he was on her in an instant, his fist in her face.
It had all happened like a lightning flash, and she stared up at him, astounded. "How did you do that–sir?" she gasped as she went limp. He stood up and took her hand, pulling her up after him. "Leverage," he answered, "and knowing what you were going to do a millisecond before you did it." Her eyes bright, she grinned. "You have GOT to teach me that!" she exclaimed. Two MACOs next to them, who had witnessed the move, stepped up to him. "Hey," Cpl. Chang joined in, "We want to learn that one too."
Andrew grinned. This was something he'd shown his own crew many times. "First, you have to watch your opponent closely, every inch of them. Body language will usually telegraph their next move. The second you feel they're going to start the hip toss, you have to crouch, like this–" he grabbed Cole as if to throw her, then had her bend her knees. "Then–"
"Excuse me," Malcolm Reed had joined the group and regarded them critically. "Just what are you doing?" "Sir," Cole spoke up, "the Lt. was showing us a new move, a counter to a hip throw, and–" "I saw what was happening, Cpl.," Reed's voice was stern. "Perhaps things were different on your ship," he looked at Andrew, "but when we train here, any new moves are run past me before they're taught to the crew at large." Andrew's eyes were cold, and the lines of his face hard, as he returned Reed's glare. "Yes, sir." he responded quietly, controlling his anger. Reed stepped closer to Andrew. "Perhaps you'd like to show me this move," he told the other man, "teach it to me, then we'll decide whether or not the crew should learn it." "Whatever you want, sir." Reed's face was like stone, and his voice low, "Lt. Welles, I know you were the armory and security chief on your ship, but you are here now, and I run things. You need to remember that." Andrew felt his ears turning red, but he came to attention, and answered again, "yes sir."
Reed stepped away and glared at the MACOs. "Unfortunately," he growled, "our time here is over. Perhaps next session Lt. Welles will be gracious enough to lead the training." He gave them all a warning look, then spun and walked away. "Sorry, sir," Cole offered, "Lt. Reed's very territorial about his duties." Andrew shrugged, watching the other man walk away from him. "No problem," he told her, "I overstepped my boundaries." Cole bent to pick up her towel. "Still, sir," she answered, "I'd like you to teach me that flip, maybe sometime when you're free."
"Excuse me, sir,' a new voice cut in as a stocky crewman approached them, "where did you learn Russian Samba fighting?" Andrew smiled at the new arrival. "You must be Michael Rostov," he answered. "Yes, sir, I am. But I've never found anyone on board who was proficient in samba moves."
"When my Captain Archer realized that we'd gone back in the past," Andrew told him as the MACOs listened in, "he issued a ship wide call asking for anyone with skills that would help up survive to step forward. You started teaching samba to everyone." Rostov beamed, "I did?" he asked proudly. "It was very popular," Andrew added, " I'd appreciate going a few rounds with you sometime, whenever you're free."