Pandora's Box #129 "Training Day"

[On] [U.S.S. Pegasus, Hollodeck]

Sulan entered the holowdeck looking over the men and women of the security teams who stood at attention. They were a rag-tag group, with rumpled uniforms and weapons in poor repair. "Greetings," she said standing before them, "I am Sulan, Lieutenant Junior-Grade. I have been assigned with the task of making this vessel secure. To achieve that aim, I have to bring it's security personel up to optimum efficency. Judging by the events of the last few days, none of you deserve to be called security personel." She pauses waliking among the ranks. "No, security personel do not go about harrasing members of the crew, and getting involved in fights. Security personel conduct themselves with honor and dignity. None of you have either of those things. So therefore, you will be called maggots until such time as you are deemed worthy for the title of security personel."

An ensign grumbles under his breath. "What was that, Ensign?" Says Sulan, stopping before him. "There is something you wish to comment on?" He looks around, for support, an arrogant smirk plastered to his face. "I don't think I'm the only one who thinks that we don't need to learn security from some half-fried vulcan freak who got too close to the camp fire during an away mis-". Before he finished the sentence Sulan snached his rifle away from him and smashes it's butt into his face, She follows up with a crecent kick that catches him below the chin, and sends him falling to the deck in a heap, semi-conscious.

"Did you all see the Ensign's mistakes? One, always secure your weapon. Two, NEVER take you eyes off an opponent. Three, never insult me, unless you are one of two things: A superior officer, or a better opponent." She kicks him, bringing him back to consciousness. "On your feet maggot. Get to sick bay. You should be more mindfull of accidents in training." He staggered to his feet, and rushed toward the doors, cluching his cheek.

She turns back toward the assembled group. "Ladies and gentlemen, I concider myself to be a fair officer, and as such if you have any concerns or questions, feel free to take me aside and discuss them with me. If I agree with your concerns, I'll follow them, and change accordingly. But if I disagree, I will throw you out of the nearest airlock." She smacks a powercell into the phaser rifle. "Is there anything else anyone would like to add about my apperance?" She stares hard at each face till they look away. "No? Very well then."

She moves to the front once more, continuing to speak: "Maggots, normally you would be given a briefing on the sort of drills you'd be doing. Not today. Today I want to gauge your actions and response times." She moves toward the control panel. "Ready your weapons. Computer begin drill Sulan One."

A scene appears. Smoke fills a simulation of the mess hall several dead crewmen can be seen sprawled on the deck, some still cluching food trays and data padds. LaBrie stands up from behind and overturned table, holding a phaser rifle. "Security!" She shouts, pointing to the closed doors of the mess kitchen, "He's in there! Get him!" The security detail rushes the doors en mass. The holograpic LaBrie sprays their exposed backs with phasher fire, and several of them fall to the deck screaming and writhing in pain.

"Freeze program." Sulan shouts, and the holograpic LaBrie freezes in mid-shot. One of the ensigns gets to his feet. "Lieutenant, I think somethings seriously wrong with the hollodeck settings. Those shots really hurt!"

"I have intentionally raised the pain factor by five on this simulation." she says coldly. "You should learn to associate failure with pain, because in real warfare, the shots hurt far worse."

The ensign sputters: "But... LaBrie would never shoot at-" She slaps him before he can finsih. "Another failure. Never assume anything. Look around you. Most of the bodies here are near tables, which means they were sitting when shot. Only one is over turned. LaBrie's. None of the bodies have weapons on them, but only regular items. In fact, the only other person in the room with a weapon is LaBrie himself." She walks over to the frozen simulation. "Look at his appearance: Clean, not sweating, not a hair out of place. What does that tell you?" The group is silent, confused.

"Fools. It means that this is most likely a changeling. The real LaBrie would be dead long before he'd witness his crew killed in front of him. He cirtainly wouldn't be cowering behind an overturned table fully armed while his unarmed crew were slaughtered." She turns toward them again starring hard. "So, your failure here today was in attention to detail, charging in as a group, and not watching your backs. I'll forgive the mistakes today, because it is your first time working with me, but any crew that fail the next simulation will spend twenty-four hours in the brig for each time they are killed in simulation. If they are killed more than three times, you'll have to eat Klingon blood-maggots for chow for a week. There is a saying on Earth: 'You are what you eat.' Be a failure in my training, and you will eat what you are. Fitting, isn't it?" a collective gasp is heard throughout the room.

"Computer, end program." The scence fades away to the normal black hollodeck walls with the yellow grid pattern. "I can see that making you into decent security will be a daunting task indeed. Dismissed, Maggots."


A brutal post by Lt.(j.g.) Telek Sulan "Would you like salt with your Blood-maggots?" U.S.S PEGASUS