Bright and Decorated

July 23, 2012
Bright and decorated
This is my alter ego, the one who I once wanted to be. Convinced that, every day, if I could live my life through her that, one day, I would become her. She started as a head-strong, bold and fearless warrior of a woman. She loved no man, married to her career, and a natural leader. Without hesistation, she would have destroyed anyone and all that stood in her way. She was faster, better, stronger, prettier, thinner and braver than me.
As time wore on, she became more human. She learnt the meaning of loss, forced to a hospital bed to learn how to trust others to do her work.
She learnt the meaning of true leadership, standing up to her superiors and speaking her mind.
She learnt the meaning of losing someone, truly, close to her – mirroring my own real life experience of losing my close friend. The pain and hurt she felt was in me too
She learnt the burden of leadership, of having to distance oneself from ones crew.
She started as a bold and strong woman, I retire her as a world-weary, humbled but wise woman. Just as strong but tempered with life’s own experiences and merged with my own life.
I kiss her on the head. I tell her that I will never forget her escapades and bravery. I tell her that I am Raiser and we will never be separated. I tell her I love her. I tell her that, forever, she will live in my heart. I thank her for letting me be her.
And, with a final word to an audience called the internet, I say goodbye.

Writing – Changing Direction

July 13, 2012

The screen flickered on with a man clad in marine green, but with a blue trimming. His medical symbol on his breast betrayed his profession. The expression was sober, concerned, slightly distressed, “Are you Catherine Josephine Raiser?”

Cathy grit her teeth, she hated it when people ignored her rank, “Yes, I am Captain Raiser, Commanding Officer of the Victoria.”

The expression changed to slight relief, “Good, to be sure, can you input your current authorization code? It changed this morning according to my records.”

Cathy narrowed her eyes, not trusting the uniformed man in front of her. She had been fooled before and had had close people near to her abuse the trust she had placed in them. People like Summer who, despite it not being her fault, still remained at a distance from the elder Marswoman. Her voice was laced with apprehension, “Not until you tell me who you are and why you need that information.”

“My name is Lieutenant Henri Renault, Assistant CMO of the Manhattan outpost. I need that information because what I have to say next requires me to speak only to Catherine Josephine Raiser and no one else. This is why this call is encrypted and carries an Alpha Two level clearance.”

“Very well, authorization Alpha Three Gamma Pi Three.”

“Thank you, Captain.” he nodded, and seemed to check something off screen, “The authorization checks out…” he cleared his throat

A thousand possibilities raced through her mind, who or what would require them to speak only to her and carry such a high level of security. He had addressed her as an individual, not as her rank nor position on the ship. Did someone re-open the incident where her parents were killed? That was an open and shut case. Her sisters were both working on normal things, nothing that warranted clearance. And anything to do with Cate would have come from her family. There was one loose end, one possibility that sat in her mind…

“We have found…” Henri seemed to struggle to think of the words, “Um, well, we have found what appears to be a cyborg…”

‘Jack’

“At least, it is a Terran humanoid with mechanical components making up a majority of his body.” Cathy let him continue, her jaw tightening in surprise,

“He…er… it seems to be badly damaged and unresponsive to verbal commands. When we ran a search on the DNA, your name came up as an emergency next of kin.”

There was a pause; a tear threatening to show on her face before she forced it back. Holding back the brimming emotions, she could only nod and reply, “Is he alive?”

The officer shifted in his position, “Well…you see…” before trailing off,

“Answer me, Lieutenant.” she growled, the usually patient Marswoman snapping, the emotion gripping her hard in the chest now.

“It’s a matter of op-”

“Yes. Or no.” a flash of anger past her face as the officer avoided her question.

“Yes, Captain…but…”

This time, she let him continue, a drop of relief sizzling on her fiery thoughts.

“But we cannot be sure… there seemed to be a spike in activity when we repeated the name…” his eyes looked at her directly, “…your name.”

Her stomach turned as she nodded. Had she really meant as much to the veteran soldier as he had meant to her? Had she really missed out on a different… perhaps better, life than this by choosing her career over her lovelife? The path glowed before her as the words tumbled out, “Do you need me to come to you in person to see if the response is greater?”

“I…” it was clear that Renault wanted to ask exactly that and was caught off guarded by how she had anticipated the question.

“I… Yes, ma’am, we do, but we don’t know how long this will take.”

There was a pause, only the hum of machinery and the distant chatter of crewmen on the ship. The Marswoman was lost in thought. There was no telling how long Jack would be alive, even if it was still Jack under all that machinery. Something stirred in her heart, something tugged at her mind, something told her that perhaps, now, her life needed her more than her career. Her jaw set tightly, eyes bright, her words assured,

“I will let you know when I leave.”

 

—————–

Many thanks to Lone Wolf for the inspiration and character of Jack Langmir whom I am sure he will continue to grow and develop in his own pieces of work

Silent Heart

March 12, 2012

Oh silent heart

Oh thoughtful mind

Be with me now in this, my moment of vulnerability

There is a man I love. A man I spend my moments thinking about.

He makes me smile, he makes me strong.

But I doubt my words

I want to tell him I love him

I want to tell him that I will stand with him in the moments of shade and trouble

I want to tell him that he has my heart and if I can have his

I want to tell him that I love him, and to me love is everything

This man has been with me when I don my gear for fighting and trade blows with padded foes

This man has passed many a perfectly timed compliment to me and brought glimmers of confidence to me

This man stands with me as a pillar when the ground shakes

 

Oh heart, why do you hesitate?

Why do you pause when you look in his expressive and deep face?

What frightens you off without uttering the words of loyalty to your loved one?

Martial Arts

February 28, 2012

People do martial arts for different reasons

For some, it is to get rid of the aggression they have building inside them

Others, it is a stress relief, allowing all the frustration at commuting, work or home channeled through the end of their fists

Others, it is fitness, knowing that you are keeping the body healthy and working towards a more promising future.

Some, it is the social aspect, an opportunity to meet others and expand the friends group

Others, it is self defence, knowing that if one was in danger one could stop the threat and protect others as well.

And even more, it is because they like to punch people and want an opportunity to do so.

There are those that martial arts is a spiritual journey. Something more than just punching and kicking. More than just moving out the way of an attack. More than learning a sequence of moves to a count. More than mastering a skill.

It is conquering the self, fighting the demons inside, showing that despite all this chaos in the world, we have a mastery of one thing – ourselves. That we can force the body to move quicker, faster, stronger than we once thought. That we can control the mind to focus on one task at a time. That we can shut off the world and just concentrate on one thing; this one punch. This one kick. This one block. This one round of sparring.

Martial arts made me a lion. It made me realise that I did not have to be a victim anymore. That I did not need to take the shit of others, that I did not need to remain silent and accept what life tossed at me. It showed me, on that one fateful evening while standing in a circle doing techniques that, deep inside, there was the warrior that waited to come back out. I roared that day, I roared with the count and commanded all around me with my fierceness.

When I train, I win. I win against the voices, remind them that I can do this, I can conquer and I can win. Every time I train, I feel good, I feel strong, I feel powerful – I feel like the lion inside.

Writing 2 – The Fight

February 23, 2009

Cathy entered the room, there was a large crowd that had gathered, some chanting the name of their chosen fighter – the crowd fairly evenly split between Jim and herself. Her gaze fixed on the ring as she strode up to it, her hands clenching and unclenching as she walked. Charlie was already there, a picture of worry on his face, as a former doctor as well as former officer of the Falcon he likely didn’t see a need for this.

She walked past him, squeezing his shoulder and giving him a quick smile as she strode past. Next in her sights was Jack, he was leaning against a pole, his eyes following her athletic frame as she started to move past him.
“Hang on a sec, Duster, you have something on your front.” he smiled, grabbing her arm.

“Where?” she asked, looking at his brown eyes.

“Right-” he lent forward and gave her a deep kiss, holding her close for a moment, before releasing, “There.”

The Marswoman smiled broadly and replied,
“Ah, I see, thank you Lieutenant.”

This was a fight that had been brewing for years; an argument that was never settled between the Captain and his former Executive Officer. Each had their reason for the fist fight; Cathy had protested against the mission and left the ship swiftly and Jim had watched his Executive Officer disrespect him and his mission orders in front of the senior staff. The two had remained apart for many years, due to serving on different ships. But, when word spread that the Falcon and Andes would be in the same starbase at the same time, it was a matter of time before the Marswoman and Earthling agreed to settle their differences.

She turned and continued her walk to the ring. Stepping in she saw J’het and nodded, moving towards her mentor and ‘coach’. With a bow of the head, she acknowledged the Vulcan’s presence and stood on her side of the ring, waiting for Hawthorn. As always, the Marswoman was calm, yet her eyes carried a fire, ready for this fight.

She was wearing loose fitting trouser pants, similar to her usual gi pants, and a strapless top. Scars could be seen partly on her back, faint lines on her elbow and, when the light caught it, a vague line across her temple. Her hands were bound lightly in cloth, but the rest of her was unprotected. As she brushed the hair behind her ear, the doors opened from the other side and Jim Hawthorn walked out.

He seemed taller than Cathy remembered, and it looked like he had been working out in preparation for this fight. His head was held high, triumphant and confident, just like he always had been. Jim stopped to wink at Brian Rogare, his current XO, then proceeded to enter the ring. His chosen ‘coach’ was none other than Sturnok Val, the smirking half-Vulcan who had stood by his captain for many years.

The crowd was straining to make each of their voices heard, phrases like ‘Take him the dusty plains, Raiser.’ and ‘Show this girl how its done, Hawthorn‘ rang through the air, as the referee motioned the fighters forward. Cathy’s gaze did not flinch as she stared into her former Captain’s eyes, grateful inside that they would finally get to sort out this issue. To make things fair, they had opted to use Viktor Dimetriev as the referee, the large Russian more than happily obliging.

“How’s the knee, Cathy?” Jim asked, but the voice carried no concern.

“Better than ever, Jim.” she replied as Viktor began reciting the rules, what little there were of them. There would be no biting, scratching nor foul play, winner was the last person standing.

With a brief shake of the hands, they stepped back, Cathy making a short bow and Jim just nodding. The bell rang out clearly and they began, Jim adopting a more boxer’s stance and Cathy taking an open handed, karate stance. There was that accomplished look on Jim’s face, making Cathy’s face twitch slightly in annoyance. She would wipe that smirk off his face.

Come on, you bastard. She thought as they circled, her mind was calm and focussed; and, surprisingly, it looked like Jim was just as calm, but the way his hands kept opening and closing said something different.

With a brutish swing, Jim used his height and power, launching a series of boxing jabs towards Cathy’s face. She stepped out the way, blocking most of them with her arms, letting the forearms absorb the blows. Timing was important as her right fist found the gap in his jabs, striking him lightly on the nose, enough for him to slow his attack. As he took a slight step back, Cathy delivered a strong front kick to his midsection, Jim making an audible grunt.

She waited for him to recover, noticing his face turning red from the attack. Flashing a brief smile, her face dropped back to seriousness. As he swung again, she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her, hitting him hard in the short ribs. But instead of letting go, he reversed the grip and pulled her over his large back. Unable to compensate for this new direction, Cathy flew over his broad back, landing right leg first. The leg twisted slightly, and collapsed under her weight as she remembered to roll. There was hardly time for her to assess the possible injury as Jim charged her while she was still trying to stand, forcing her onto her back as she kicked upwards with her left leg.

The foot connected with his nose, making a satisfying crunch as the cartilage broke.
“You Duster!” he snarled, as he stumbled back.

Despite the twinges of pain, she managed to stand and look at him.

“You deserve every little thing that -urgh.” she had spent so much time talking she did not see the left hook as it collided with her temple. The second punch connected her chin as quickly as the first one and it was only the third one that she managed to block as she moved back towards the ropes. He constantly alternated between punching her face and her midsection, the blows she missed, striking her hard in the ribs – making it burn in pain.

Using her force and instinct her hands shot out in a palm heel strike, hitting Jim hard in the mid-section. Jim took a step back and then laughed,
“Silly, Raiser. You missed, you have gotten soft.” he taunted as he gestured for her to come closer.

Cathy looked up at him, a trickle of blood running down the side of her head. There was a tinge of anger that was surfacing, making her heart pound more. Grimacing she started to take steps forward, her right leg wobbling and struggling to keep her posture upright. That voice needed to be silenced, permanently if need be.

Her second wind was blindingly fast, her fists moving faster than he could defend. The knuckles crushed his ribs, the midsection contorting to get away from the power and the head snapping to the side as she struck hard and true. Her hand flew forward, straight for his throat, but changing at the last minute, striking his eye. He fell heavily to the ground, but there was blood on the Marswoman’s mind as she stepped forward, about to continue the fight.

A hand touched her shoulder, making her rage turn to someone else. It was Viktor and he was saying “Stop.”. For a moment, the beast in her refused to believe the words, then, she dropped her raised fist.

She stumbled back, hanging almost entirely on the ropes as the medical officer jumped into the ring.
You deserve much more than this, Jim… she thought, her face still twisted in a snarl. The medical man did his scan and shook his head.

“The winner of this match, Commander Raiser.” Viktor rumbled.

J’het jumped in, a broad smile on her face as she lifted Cathy’s hand in victory. The Marswoman stumbled but managed a smile for the crowd. Only then did she hear the crowd again, some were cheering, others groaning. It was over. She felt… better… and perhaps a bit weak.

Looking back

February 23, 2009

I won’t look back.
I will fight the tears,
Because I am afraid of the weakness they convey.
So many plans, so many to do,
And yet I crave one more hug from my mom.

A part of me never left on that plane.
She stands with her hand on mom’s shoulder,
Unwilling to leave.

I was home.
And now I must return to my real home.

Updates

February 22, 2009

Well, I have not updated this page is a while… so stay tuned for more stuff when I get time

Poems of a serious nature

July 10, 2008

At the request of one of my buddies, below is some of the poems I have written in recent times. Due to recent events, they have a common theme of dedication to my late Sensei Mike who was killed last year September (This is not the forum for me to relate the details)

Untitled
(in memory of Sensei Mike ~ 27 Sept 2007)

I will build you a dojo
High among the cloud
You sit down, look and listen
As we kiai extra loud

I will build you a shomen
Large, bright and emblazoned in gold
All will sit in seisan and listen
As we recite your story, carefully told

I will build a place in my heart
To store the memories, all so clear
I will pick my head up high and smile
Because, Sensei, you are always near

——————————————–
dojo – Place of the way; where we train
kiai – Spirit shout; used to build spirit
shomen – front of the dojo; usually where pictures of the masters are placed
seisan – kneeling stance; feet under one’s bum; used when bowing at the beginning and end of the class
Sensei – teacher

<———–>

Close up

Curl up

Get away from this pain

Shut down

Come down

Remove myself again

Keep strong

Be strong

Trying my best

Breathe deep

Think deep

Heart beating in my chest

<———->

[Altered by Joe, for the better]

Look look at me warrior
Turn your to meet my face

Through those tearful eyes
Through that clenched jaw

Listen to my voice
Gaze into my eyes

Don’t bow your head
Don’t let go

Take my hand
Take a part of me

Your hand will not tremble
Your focus will soon return

<———->

Writing 1

July 9, 2008

Louise walked straight into the Security Area, barely stopping at the duty desk as Sedgewick jumped to attention. He did not say a word, but followed the XO’s clunking steps as she walked.

Her face was a picture of determination, jaw set slightly and her eyes burning with what could only be described as an inner fire. Her eyes darted from side to side, looking for the correct cell, her gaze meeting every face fearlessly. She came to a halt in front of the cell that contained her target.

“Lieutenant Lithrian, stand at attention.” her voice was edged, like a steel sword, without a trace of fear or uncertainty.

“Lieutenant, as of an hour ago, you have been relieved of your station as Chief of Flight Operations, your commission of Lieutenant and your privileges aboard this vessel have been revoked to Level one – Civilian.”she paused, matching his gaze, “Do you grok… understand these repercussions?”

“Yes, sir” Lithrian responded.

Her back straightened more, drawing herself to her full height – making her taller than she already seemed as she spoke again.

“You are not to say one word, not until I give you permission to do so.” she growled slightly,
“What you did was unbecoming of not only a Starfleet officer, but of a head of department.” her eyes were alight with anger, “You showed a complete disregard for protocol, respect, mannerisms and rank. I am told that you were derogatory to hostage takers, a response that almost cost us the life of a Starfleet officer and Federation citizen. We were lucky that they put their weapon on heavy stun, but that woman will be comatose for at least three days because of your actions…”

She took a step closer to the forcefield, taking a PADD from her hand and waved it in front of him through the forcefield,

“Basic hostage negotiation. Tactical second year.” she made an effort of putting it on the food tray next to the cell, “Read it. And read it again. Read it until you can teach me, a CTO of nine years, something new about hostage negotiation.”

She paused, rewording the sentences in her head, her gaze not leaving the man. She did not want to fathom the next part of the incident. Her jaw tightened more, her face twitching slightly,

“Assaulting a fellow officer is unforgivable – no officer, especially of your rank and standing, should ever be so mad or angry or jealous or envious that they strike another… on the back of their head…” her eyes narrowed further, “In front of his or her team mates. This is beyond bad behaviour, past casual mistakes or careless decisions, Mr. Lithrian. Lieutenant Dimetriev was trying to rectify the situation and you made it worse. I thank the bright shining two moons of my home planet Mars that Lieutenant Solok was able to apprehend the hostage takers as they tried to escape.”

“Your reckless and careless behaviour has severely injured a dozen people, left the Security department without a leader, damaged our Shuttle Bay two and forced me to lodge a formal complaint with Starfleet Command. Commander Henderson will consult with you further on the technicalities, but you will be court-martialled for your actions. Do you have anything you wish to say at this time, Mr. Lithrian?”

——————————————————-

Disclaimer: All works remain copyright of the author (that’s me)

Hello world!

July 9, 2008

Welcome to my blog that will be used for my creative stuffs 😛