/||\        -----------------------------------------
       / || \            Starfleet Command, Second Fleet
      /  ||  \             U.S.S. Coronado,  NCC-63100
   .-/   ||   \-.     Fleet Captain Brian Aldur, Commanding
   ./    ||    \.   -----------------------------------------
   .-_-. || .-_-.             Simulation Epilogue
   .-_  \||/  _-.

 _______________________________________________________________________________
/ Simulation Epilogue                                                           |
/ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ

 "Now THAT is one hell of a commanding officer," Aldur heard Marshall say
 behind him as he entered the field.  Before him, also dressed in chain mail,
 was his opponent, the Duke of something-or-other.  Aldur hadn't caught the
 full title, but the man himself looked impressive enough: nearly two meters
 tall with enormous handlebar mustaches protruding from the visor of his
 helmet.  A squire assisted Aldur with his own helmet.

 Hoisting the sword of Jacob Arnath experimentally, Aldur muttered, "I can't
 believe I'm doing this."  While he had been familiar with a sword for more
 than 15 years, since his days as a Starfleet Marine, that wasn't quite the
 same as facing a trained Knight in combat with one--  Aldur started.  The
 Duke across from him didn't have a sword!

 As if testing its heft and finding it too light, the Duke was swinging an
 enormous mace in circles with one hand.  Noting Aldur's expression, the
 Duke smiled slightly.  "Because I know of thy service to my world, Lord
 Fleet Captain, I shall endeavour not to harm thee," he said.  Essentially
 a giant hammer, the mace's head was fortunately not spiked.  All the same,
 Aldur grimaced, careful to keep his feelings off his face.  One hit from
 that mace would likely end the fight.

 Bowing to the reagent, both combatants entered the field -- a 15 meter
 circle lined with chalk on the grass -- and took up their shields.  Aldur
 was still frantically reviewing his memory for ways in which his relatively
 light longsword could hope to parry the giant mace when the reagent called
 for the match to begin.  Seconds later, Aldur was fighting for his life.
 How could the Camelynian be so fast?

 The Captain ducked one overhand swing, then blocked a second with his
 shield, the impact vibrating up his arm and causing his teeth to click shut
 painfully.  Sending an experimental sword thrust toward the Duke's thigh, he
 was rewarded by having the blow slapped aside by his opponent's shield and
 very nearly lost the fight right there.  Extended, his right arm exposed,
 the Duke's mace came down toward the elbow.  Aldur jumped back, the armor
 barely hindering him as adrenaline coursed through his body.  Landing a
 touch off balance, he quickly righted himself.  {{OK,}} he thought.
 {{THAT'S not going to work...}}

 "Though defend well, m'lord," the Duke said, barely winded, damn him.
 "However, thee cannot endure my attack for long."  Aldur saved his breath
 for fighting rather than respond and attempted a combination.  Bashing his
 shield into his opponent's, he then thrust at his opponent's mace arm with
 the sword.  The Duke attempted to counter with his shield, but Aldur had
 effectively neutralized it, so he responded with the heavy wood handle of
 the mace.  The longsword rang as it hit the handle and, carried by
 momentum, ran along the handle to the Duke's gauntlet, nicking the blade.

 {{Damn,}} the Captain thought.  The 1500 year old sword had a few nicks, but
 none so large as this.  Pulling his weapon back, Aldur was momentarily
 distracted.  The Duke responded by swinging that giant mace again, which
 caught the tip of the sword and tore it out of Aldur's hand.  The blade
 shone in the sun as it flew out of the circle.  Aldur grimaced again as the
 crowd reacted.

 Now disarmed and carrying only his shield, Aldur had little choice but to
 defend.  Once... twice, three times he jumped backwards as long spiraling
 swings from the Duke's mace attempted to intercept him.  The third jump
 carried him to the edge of the circle.  Aldur turned quickly, attempting to
 get back into the center -- and was rewarded for his trouble by the Duke's
 boot kicking him squarely in the backside, almost sending him tumbling.

 "Yield, m'lord.  Thou cannot hope to win," the Duke said as he advanced yet
 again.

 "I've been in worse situations and emerged victorious, m'lord," Aldur said
 between gritted teeth.  Again blocking the Duke's shield with his own, the
 Captain timed the next swing of the mace and caught his opponent's arm at
 full extension.  Wincing at the impact on his gauntleted hands and half
 turning, he pulled the Duke's arm between the two shields, completing a
 rather unorthodox Earth karate swordarm block.  It had its desired effect:
 caught between the two shields, the Duke's hand was temporarily paralyzed,
 and the mace dropped from his nerveless fingers, tumbling between the
 shields to the grass.

 The crowd gasped as Aldur broke away from his opponent and retrieved the
 mace.  The weight of it nearly tore his arm out of his socket and keeping
 the Duke at bay, the Captain pulled the shield off his left arm and threw
 it out of the circle.  He then took up the mace in both hands and feigned
 a swing to the left.

 The Duke responded, his shield coming around to block.  Aldur then reversed
 his swing and hammered the mace into his opponent's right thigh greave.
 The metal folded in on the Duke's knee and the larger man collapsed in the
 circle, attempting to pull off the hopelessly dented greave.  "Do you yield,
 m'lord?" Aldur asked, panting.

 The pain of the collapsed metal around the Duke's leg must have been
 excruciating, but he relaxed, then smiled.  "Gladly, m'lord.  The match is
 yours," he responded.  The crowed cheered as Aldur dropped the mace at the
 larger man's feet, then cheered louder as the Captain helped him up and out
 of the circle.

 "Sometimes, m'lord, defeat -- or victory -- comes in a manner that thou
 does not expect," the Duke said as Aldur helped him to the approaching
 field medics.

 "Indeed," Aldur said, musing.  He then turned to collect his sword and the
 congratulations of his approaching officers.

\_______________________________________________________________________________
\ End Simulation Epilogue                                                       |
 ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ

----------
Ross Glenn aka Jester
Fleet Captain Brian Aldur, U.S.S. Coronado, NCC-63100
http://www.ussrenegade.com/coro2400/