Ay’dar, his figure a blend of human and Klingon heritage, towered in the dimly lit hue of the corridor outside Holodeck three. The gentle thrum of the Hathaway’s engines filled the air, a constant reminder of the vessel’s ceaseless journey through the stars. As two science Ensigns, clad in the stark blue of their department, navigated the hallway, their steps hesitated, their bodies tensing as they neared the imposing figure.

One Ensign, attempting to mask his discomfort, darted a glance at Ay’dar. The half-Klingon’s eyes met his—an intense gaze that seemed to pierce the dim lighting. Responding with a signature deep, resonant growl, Ay’dar watched as the Ensigns’ strides suddenly quickened, their movements now swift and eager to distance themselves. Their reaction, so akin to prey flinching away from a predator, elicited a slight, amused curl to Ay’dar’s lips. 

As the last echoes of footsteps dissipated, the corridor returned to its tranquil state, embracing Ay’dar in silence. He studied the PADD, its screen a solitary beacon amidst the corridor’s dim light. The time displayed—07:00—ignited a growl of annoyance from him, a sound that momentarily filled the corridor with its resonance.

With a slight, almost imperceptible shake of his head, a sign of his irritation, he tapped his comm badge on his chest. “Ay’dar to Andrasin,” he spoke, his voice rough yet imbued with clarity. Without a moment’s hesitation, his impatience manifested, “Where are you!?” His query, more a demand.

“No no no no,” Ephriam exclaimed as he ran around his quarters like a mad man throwing himself together as quickly as he could. He had all intentions of setting his alarm for 0615 which would have given him enough time to not rush around like he currently was. What had happened instead was him falling asleep from exhaustion and forgetting to confirm one at all. The computer defaulted to waking him up at his usual 0655 instead, which left him in the position of being late. 

Ephriam’s stomach dropped as he heard Ay’dar’s stern voice emerge from his comm badge, he dared not to make the man wait for a reply though and he lept in the air to clear one side of his bed and grabbed his comm badge as he landed stomach side. “I am on my way lieutenant, I will be there in five-ish minutes, my apologies,” he stumbled through a reply sounding winded, partially due to being slightly out of air from the way he had landed.

Ay’dar, the imposing brute, should have been irritated. Typically, he would express his frustration through a sigh, a growl, or by directing his anger towards the nearest target. Yet, something stirred within him. Perhaps it was the urgency in Ephriam’s voice, or perhaps it was simply the knowledge that Ephriam was never one to be tardy. Whatever the reason, Ay’dar found it strangely amusing. He chuckled, perhaps louder than was necessary, though there was no one around to witness it anyway.

Ephriam looked terrible and much more unkempt than he would have liked, this was exemplified even more by running through the corridors at a feverish pace to get to Ay’dar as quickly as possible. He was certain several crew members thought he had lost his marbles even more than he had already established in reputation on the Hathaway. He was finally relieved to see the big hulk of a man looking as stern as ever standing in front of the entrance to the holodeck. “Ay’dar… I’m so.. sorry,” Ephriam spat out his apology as he worked hard to catch his breath.

Ay’dar’s intense stare bore into the Science Chief as he extended the PADD without uttering a single word. The weight of his displeasure hung palpably in the air, conveyed through the silent exchange. With measured strides, he moved towards the exit, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

As he reached the threshold, Ay’dar turned back, his voice carrying a commanding edge softened by a hint of amusement. “This,” he motioned towards the PADD, “will be our program for today.” His words were deliberate, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “Take the time to digest it thoroughly, and remember,” his tone sharpened, “I’ve made a slight adjustment—a five percent increase in intensity. Each minute you were delayed added another layer to that intensity.”

Ephriam’s eyes widened for a moment – he resembled a deer caught in the headlight of an oncoming vehicle as he reviewed the details. “I…. I suppose that’s only fair.” He darned not to protest as he figured he was already on thin ice with Ay’dar as it was.

Ay’dar’s imposing figure crossed the threshold of the arch with purpose, his every movement exuding determination. Without a moment’s hesitation, he raised his voice, the command slicing through the silence of the chamber like a blade. “Computer,” he intoned, his tone brooking no argument, “initiate program Ay’dar Spartan Three-Four-Sierra.”

As the words left his lips, a subtle energy pulsed through the room, igniting a transformation. The sterile environment dissolved into a swirling vortex of data before solidifying into a breathtaking desert vista. The once empty expanse now teemed with life, the golden sand stretching endlessly into the horizon, interrupted only by the clustered silhouette of rugged tents, their weathered canvas flapping gently in an unseen breeze.

As Ay’dar’s voice had ordered the computer to initiate the requested program, Ephriam jumped slightly in surprise. The voice of the security chief was both commanding and dominating. Once the desert expanse came into view, the brightness caused Ephriam to squint his eyes. It was a stark comparison to the lighting onboard the Hathway they had all become accustomed to with its dark and metallic ambience. “I should have brought some sunglasses I suppose,” he muttered in a low tone to himself as his eyes opened back up some having adjusted to the light. He continued a bit nervously, “Ay’dar…. I know you said you’ve programmed some increasing intensity but… I don’t think you comprehend just how bad I am at this. I wouldn’t have asked for your help otherwise.”

Ay’dar’s deep voice rumbled with laughter and echoed through the desert sands like thunder as he turned his gaze to Ephriam, “Well, Lieutenant Adrasin, have you ever ventured into the myths of the SAS?”

“The myths of the what?” Ephriam replied curiously and his brows furrowed slightly as he processed the statement, trying to place if he had ever heard of such a thing. His eyes wandered off of Ay’dar’s for a moment too but returned quickly with a blank facial expression, it confirmed he had no idea what the man was talking about.

Ay’dar started to move towards the tents as his words drifted across the desert sands, barely audible above the gentle howl of the wind. Yet, within that soft murmur lay a power that seemed to stretch across galaxies.

“In the ancient annals,” Ay’dar began, voice barely more than a breath, “they were revered as masters of combat. Phantoms, they were, slipping through the veils of darkness that shrouded their foes. Unseen, unheard, until the final, inevitable strike.” As he spoke, the desert seemed to hold its breath, as if even the elements themselves paused to listen to the legend unfurl.

Ephriam felt the weight of the description weigh on his shoulders as he followed Ay’dar through the sands. He remained silent but absorbed their surroundings. His feet began to feel heavier as the sand they were walking through offered resistance and its varying depths pushed his physical resolve. He noted how Ay’dar seemed to just push through without any sign of physical strain.

“The SAS weren’t merely soldiers; they embodied bravery and resilience incarnate. Their creed, ‘Who Dares Wins,’ echoed a universal truth transcending boundaries of time and space. They confronted the impossible, the unfathomable, and emerged victorious—not due to invincibility, but because they dared to face their fears.” he explained, the tents drawing nearer with each step.

As they reached the tents, Ay’dar deftly parted one of the flaps, gesturing for Ephriam to enter with a fluid motion. Inside, a table stood amidst rows of black lockers, their contents glinting in the dim light. Among them, phasers rested incongruously, seeming somewhat out of place in the otherwise unassuming surroundings.

Ay’dar’s stare bore into Ephriam’s, a fierce intensity emanating from his eyes. “Picture it, Adrasin,” he urged, “training so grueling only the most indomitable spirits could endure, missions so fraught with danger that each move could spell their demise. Yet move they did, into the shadows, into the abyss, for they understood that courage wasn’t the absence of fear, but the triumph over it.”

Ephriam considered himself to be somewhat physically fit but questioned this assumption now as he caught his breath once they reached the tent. The simulated heat, the walk to where they were currently at and Ay’dar’s passionate description of the SAS had been quite the combination. It was hard to picture anything at the present moment, the intensity of the large man’s presence and his newfound ability to string more than a few words together was a bit overwhelming to the senses. He had not thought Ay’dar capable of such a terrifying but eloquent construction of words, at least not in his interactions so far. “They sound absolutely terrifying… I’m curious though. What exactly does this SAS have to do with our time here?” 

Ay’dar circled back to Ephriam’s initial query, “The SAS understood something vital, something that we, too, must embrace.” he elucidated, “It is not our phasers or our ships that make us formidable; it is our will, our determination to stand against the tide, to fight for what we believe in. Hence, it’s less about ‘how bad you are’ and more about demonstrating the depth of your desire. ‘Who dares wins’ encapsulates this ethos perfectly.”

Ephriam wandered over to the lockers and gazed into them. There were phasers tucked in them but also phaser rifles. He listened to Ay’dar continue but seemed distracted and transfixed on the rifle. There was a sudden desire within him to hold it and he gave in to its siren call. As he picked up one of the rifles and attempted to hold it, his stance was awkward and his rifle hold was even worse. Ephriam showed no sign of insight into just how awful it was as he pretended to aim at some target.

Ay’dar’s gaze, half illuminated by a streak of light entering the tent, unwavering and penetrating, found Ephriam’s, conveying a depth of conviction that words alone could not express. “Today,” he began, the richness of his voice weaving a tapestry of challenge and opportunity, “is about more than learning to aim and fire. It’s about discovering the reservoirs of strength within you, about pushing the boundaries of what you believe is possible.”

He moved closer, his presence commanding yet reassuring. The tent seemed to shrink, focusing all attention on the lesson at hand, on the transformative journey from novice to master. “By the end of this,” he promised, his voice a low rumble of certainty, “you won’t merely ‘know’ how to use a phaser. You’ll actually know how to hold it, and you’ll understand its language, its rhythm. You’ll be a virtuoso of marksmanship, a scholar in the art of precision, your skills honed not just on the firing range but in the crucible of resolve and courage.”

Ephriam’s body seemed to shrink in size as Ay’dar moved in closer to him, the intensity of the man’s words and dominating presence wrapped around him like an anaconda seizing its prey. Ephriam however, had no intention of fighting off the squeeze he felt as there was assurance and security in the man’s passion and delivery. He knew now that if there was anyone who could help him improve his marksmanship, Ay’dar would be the one.  He lowered the rifle to his side and closed the small amount of distance left between them, his own eyes met Ay’dar’s and for a moment matched the intensity that Ay’dar had given before several times. His stare softened quickly though and was replaced with a cheeky grin that appeared on his face. 

Ephriam’s free hand raised up and tapped playfully on the centre of Ay’dar’s hard steel-like chest, “I’ll hold you to that promise, Lieutenant… Shall we lock and load as they say?”

Ay’dar’s smile spread slowly, a silent acknowledgment to Ephriam as he commanded, “Computer, set training sequence one to one hundred and five percent intensity.”

For a brief moment, the tent’s constant fluttering hushed, yielding to the computer’s affirmative beep. With a purposeful stride, Ay’dar approached the entrance, his silhouette briefly outlined against the tent’s fabric. As he disappeared outside, his voice carried back in, decisive and clear, “Adrasin, fetch a type two and a type three. Then It’s time for the Locking and Loading.”

“One hundred fifty percent… Right…” Ephriam mumbled this to himself as he watched Ay’dar exit the text. He had managed to secure a smile from the man but at what cost? If this were the cost of rousing a smile out of him, then perhaps Ephriam would learn to embrace the usual scolding glances and looks he had become quickly accustomed to instead. 

“Rodger that. Type two and three…” Ephriam replied to Ay’dar with hesitant confidence before he made a quick jog back over the one of the lockers and retrieved what had been ordered. He continued to mutter under his breath to himself, before exiting to re-join Ay’dar outside of the tent. “Just think of this as one of your crazy experiments Effie…. A daunting, scary, likely going-to-get-yourself-injured and forever embarrassed in front of a handsome man crazy experiment… Right… Here we go….”