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“Invitation – Part 2 – Continued…”
Sakarra let her sword slide along the ambassador’s and gave him the split second he needed. After all, not causing pain was often a much greater test of one’s skill.
To her silent delight, he was not at all deterred and immediately sought to regain ground – only to find the Vulcan had waited for him again. A valiant attempt. But ill advised.
Carried by his own momentum, the ambassador found only desert air where Sakarra had been a second before and despite his quick reaction which earned him another silent glance of approval, was once again faced with a relentlessly advancing opponent.
Lamont felt the Vulcan was indeed upping her level of commitment to the match having increased her speed and skill. He was having difficulty keeping up with her movements leaving precious little time for him to devote to anticipating her moves. Simply defending himself from her attacks was becoming in itself a challenge. However difficult he would not have had it any other way. The chance to see and learn from a professional, especially one versed in the art of combat and swordplay, was a unique honor. He was having an immensely good time.
He parried her advance only just missing a swipe of her blade at his torso. She was learning. Like the Borg she was quickly adapting to his movements, his speed, and even perhaps his technique and tactics. The concentration required to record his movements, process them, and then act upon what was learned in addition to defending herself from his own attacks was astounding. Still he wanted to know how he measured up.
That quickly became quite clear when he miscalculated her movement. Who said Vulcans never lie? With a feint played with the skill of a Romulan the commander took advantage of Lamont’s momentary weakness having misjudged her movement. In one swift movement she leveraged her steel against his. Screeching metal filled the air as Ian’s sword was yanked from his hand and into the air. A few seconds later its blade stuck into the dirt a few meters away as he looked down at a menacing blade sitting only centimeters away from his throat.
He looked up at her face and the hair which flowed around her head. If he didn’t know better he would have sworn he had seen a smile on her features for an infinitesimal moment. Her eyes betrayed nothing yet as time passed he was beginning to slowly unravel the subtleties of her expressions. He sensed a playfulness behind her façade. It was nearly imperceptible like a hint of fragrance on a fast moving breeze but it was there he was sure of it.
“Well played commander”, Lamont said with a wide smile. “You have the finesse of a skilled ballerina coupled with the strength of a lion and the guile of a pirate albeit one extremely skillful and utterly more attractive. A dangerous and fascinating combination. I must say that it is an honor to concede defeat and a point. However, do not expect me to fall so easily the next time for the same ploy.” A mischievous but playful grin formed on his lips as he bowed slightly to show his respect for her well fought victory.
“Duly noted, ambassador.” Well of course it would be illogical to expect he might make the same mistake twice. Although people in general seemed to revel in doing just that.
Lamont retrieved his weapon and flexed its steel wiping the dirt from its polished edge. He took several swipes with the weapon switching it from hand to hand feeling its form, its weight, and its balance. An idea was forming within his head along with several countermeasures.
“I suggest we end this tie commander however I must admit that I am enjoying this sparring perhaps too much. I realize that physically you likely out class me but I wish to measure myself against the odds. With your permission and agreement I would very much like to finish the evening, win or lose, without the benefit of undue caution. I will give you my best and in return I respectfully ask for yours. I hope such a request is neither too forward nor offends your sensibilities commander?”
This time, she favored Lamont with a look of outright humor, head tilted slowly to one side while one finely slanted brow climbed by a considerable margin.
“Undue caution, Mr Lamont? It would be terribly rude of me to not observe caution. And if I understand the rules for a terran-type exercise correctly, inflicting even unintentional harm on one’s opponent is undesirable.”
It certainly forced one to observe with even greater vigilance, which in the young Vulcan’s mind was an excellent practice all in itself. Just as against another t’naeh’ru one wrong move or one split second of lost focus would swiftly result in a lost match, possibly yet another bruise, miscalculating in a case like this would have unfortunate results.
“By comparison, they type of training I have received does not focus on minimizing harm.” The brow climbed another millimeter while Sakarra tried very hard not to imagine the good ambassador on the grounds of Xen’tal, being impeccably polite towards a most bewildered instructor.
“As it is, I am still ... in the process of learning to fight this way, Mr Lamont. You may safely assume I have been doing my ‘best’ to adapt and increase my skill as our exercise has progressed.”
“Rude Commander? No so. In fact you are perhaps one of the most proper individuals I know. Not to mention impeccably astute, talented, as well as quite stunning. I shall take you at your word. However know this. I’ve seen your technique and reaction times. You are as skilled as you are cunning and I fully intend to win the next match.”
Lamont stood back with a subtle grin. He longed to see a spark of passion in his opponent’s eyes, but he could easily accept her coming performance as proof of her enthusiasm.
Her eyes silently conveyed what he interpreted as mild confusion and perhaps mild amusement but most of all she signaled she was ready. Without the grandiose fanfare of the previous matches, Lamont simply charged as their blades clashed with a high pitched chorus of vibrating metal.
The intensity of the dance and its tempo increased as Lamont threw himself and his full talent into every parry and thrust. Despite the quickened pace and higher intensity, Ian found himself gaining ground and then losing it only to reclaim it to lose it again. What was worse is he actually enjoyed losing the ground. It gave him a reason to challenge her again and test her defenses. She truly was quite remarkable in many ways.
Their swords clashed and with each impact Lamont’s appreciation for Sakarra grew. Her movements were as precise as a fine, hand crafted timepiece, as fluid as water racing down a mountain, and as graceful as ballerina on a grand stage. Her strength matched his own if not exceeded it providing him with that much more of a challenge.
His appreciation and admiration however was his undoing. Admiring her form and skill sapped just enough of his concentration for the Vulcan to seize the initiative.
Eloquence in the art of flattery aside, the good ambassador had been right about one thing – Sakarra was a fast learner, and she could be cunning if the situation called for it.
The increased speed of their bout suited her well and for quite a while, she simply allowed herself to revel in the physical sensation of breath being drawn just a little faster, blood running just a bit warmer. Senses trained to pick up and react to the most subtle changes lent the stale air of a starship a tinge of sharpness, made every color more pronounced, and every clash of steel was not only felt, but heard, smelled, experienced in all its facets.
But time and again, she caught the smile reappearing on Lamont’s face, making it quite clear he enjoyed not only this exercise, but watching his opponent. To the point of distraction, to be certain.
Had he paid better attention, he might have seen the brief glint of mischief in dark, luminous eyes.
Faster than most would expect from a human, Lamont thwarted another attack and enthusiastically charged into a perceived opening – no, he would not fall for the same gambit twice. However… for a split-second, Lamont was treated to the sight of a Vulcan’s back, head lowered slightly as if in contemplation, a few silken tresses tumbling over an exposed neck. Speed and the sheer fervor of their sparring had taken a toll on the tightly plaited coils, making for a charmingly disheveled appearance.
The tip of a boot was slammed into the sands and like a Shavokh taking flight, Sakarra launched her supple frame into the air. The ambassador pivoted around to follow the suddenly airborne woman’s movements as she sailed over his shoulder, less than a second too late. By the time he felt the breeze graze across his chin and leveled his blade towards the Vulcan, her precisely calculated flight had ended. A risk, to land right within the reach of his much longer arms, but one with sufficient promise of success. Canting her head to one side, Sakarra noted the shimmering steel completing its movement towards her and cast a poignant glance at the tip of her own sword.
Lamont stopped and looked down at the large gash in the material on his torso and at the tip of the weapon aimed at his rapidly beating heart. Another millimeter and she could have easily injured him. Further still and the effects could have been far graver. That sense of danger only made him feel more alive.
“I concede”, Lamont said with a tiny smile. Sakarra nodded and lowered her weapon and at that moment Ian quickly and unexpectedly reacted at the opportunity. In a lightning fast display of martial arts, Lamont disarmed the Vulcan and knocked her to the ground falling next to her. Pushing himself up he leaned over the Vulcan who seemed to be fighting a wave of surprise. His face only millimeters away displayed a gentle smile as his green eyes eagerly sought the languid dark depths of hers.
“You are unwise to lower your defenses”, Lamont said just above a whisper. “An opponent is apt to move in and take advantage of you Commander. We can’t have that.. now can we.” He simply gazed into her eyes for as long as he dared. Righting himself he stood and offered his hand to the commander pulling her up with a firm, smooth motion.
He bowed and returned upright wearing a grin he could not hide. “Thank you commander for a thoroughly invigorating and challenging evening. I hope we can do this again sometime soon.”
He was immensely grateful for the exercise and the challenge this evening. She was a most worthy opponent in more ways than one.
Retrieving his blade, Lamont turned with a grin as the light glinted off his weapon. “My sword demands a rematch and I quite fancy the exercise and challenge of a real opponent. I do hope I was equally a match for you.”
“I have certainly learned valuable lessons, ambassador.” Sakarra stated dryly.
Strangely enough, after the first shock of impacting the rocky ground and finding a face hovering above her, her brief sound of surprise had echoed with genuine amusement. Stranger even, she had not felt compelled to repay him in kind, but rather held perfectly still while cool human breath whispered over her lips and made her blink – if this had been any other than the exquisitely polite Ian Lamont, she might have suspected a motive other than playfulness.
He had held her gaze out of bemused, lambent black eyes as if to make certain she was not unduly annoyed with him. For the duration of several heartbeats, he was so close any move would have resulted in touch - arms brushing against one another, a leg grazing across a lithe frame, a strand of fair hair mingling with sable curls gliding over the heated skin of her face. At last, she had settled for a marginally raised brow and he had moved away with polite, graceful speed.
“A match … yes, I believe one could say that.” The young Vulcan retrieved her coat and scabbard with all the careless elegance of one of her kind at ease, though there were certainly signs of mild humor and a hint of thoughtfulness in her melodious voice.
In one decisive motion the sword was returned to its scabbard and slung across Sakarra’s back. “I await your convenience for a rematch, Mr Lamont.”
“And I look forward to our next match as well Commander Tyrax. Computer, terminate program.”
The dusty plateau vanished replaced by an orange grid.
“After you”, the ambassador gestured.
He saw the commander out and thanked her once again for the match. She turned to leave and he could do nothing but stand in awe as she slowly left his sight his eyes lingering for as long as they could retain sight of her.
With a grin as wide as the milky way, Lamont took his own sword in hand and made his way back to his own quarters with a slight spring in his step.
[ END ]
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Ambassador Ian Lamont
And
Lt. Commander Sakarra Tyrax
