Command Training, Part III
Posted on Sun Jan 18th, 2026 @ 1:41am by Master Chief Petty Officer Vashti Rao & Major Clay McEntyre III
1,471 words; about a 7 minute read
Mission:
Peril at the Unification Accords
Location: Holodeck 3, Deck 7
Timeline: MD 10, 0612 Hours
Previously: Command Training, Part II
Polaron fire lanced past the junction in even, disciplined bursts. The white plasma chewed into the bulkhead like it wasn't just scorching it--large chunks were being vapourized. The Jem'Hadar weren't retreating anymore. They were dug in and defending the heart of their ship.
Vashti raised a fist again. This time she knew she had it right. The squad halted, their armour settling in tight, nervous clicks. The ship groaned around them. They didn't have much time left.
She crouched and pressed her back to the wall, letting her mind do what always did best: strip the problem down to the bare parts and then work from there, identifying the various pressures and inevitabilities.
Leaning out just enough to see, Vashti could see the Jem'Hadar had set overlapping fields of fire at the entrance--three firing positions elevated, two low, one further back near what looked like a control nexus. They were not going to be dislodged.
Vashti looked over at Clay. "This doesn't seem doable," she whispered.
Clay merely gave her a nod, but didn't tip his hand as to the nature of the program itself.
"Move your chalk up, Chief" Clay ordered, before falling back to cover the advance.
The ship rocked again, harder, sparks flying from the impacts of the torpedoes and the errant plasma bolts from the advancing Jem'Hadar, who had grown in number. A whole platoon stood between the Starfleet Marines and their objective. How Vashti solved this problem was up to her.
Vashti stayed at the choke point and felt the answer still refusing to come to her cleanly. This wasn't going to be a simple solution. No equations to rebalance and far from some loose panel to pry open.
"All right," she said to her team, "I want two teams. Suppressive fire, uh, alternating advance. Use the bulkhead ribs for cover--but don't get bunched-up. When one team gets pinned, the other will go. We move when I say move."
The Marines didn't hesitate. This was their bailiwick and this was the language they spoke best.
"Go."
Blue-white phaser fire cut through the corridor. The first team went right and surged forward, their boots hammering the deck while the second team laid down a brutal barrage of suppressing fire. A marine to Vashti's right went down hard, armour smoking, and the sickening smell of burnt flesh and hair assaulted her nostrils. Another stumbled and caught a Jem'Hadar bolt right through his shoulder plate. He grunted loudly before dragging himself to cover.
"Keep moving!" Vashti shouted, even though every instinct inside of her was telling her to stop and fix this terrible training program. She crouched low and advanced with the second team which moved left--the first team now providing enough suppression.
The Jem'Hadar held just as one would expect them to.
They were close now. Vashti could see the Engineering doors ahead--massive and sealed. One more push should do it, she thought.
Tight, targeted phaser shots took down three Jem'Hadar consecutively, but despite their marginal successes, the ship still continued to rock. Suddenly, the corridor lights failed. A main power failure could mean only one thing: destruction was imminent.
"Smoke!" she ordered, pulling a dispersal canister from her belt and rolling it down the corridor. Dark smoke billowed out of both ends, blooming thick. It bought them critical seconds. A marine at point took a hit to center mass and crumpled without a sound, his face planting directly into the deck plating. Another made it two steps past him before catching fire and dropping to his knees.
Vashti felt the loss like someone was twisting the wrong end of a spanner into her ribs from the inside. These marines were holograms--but watching a someone die violently was no less shocking to her.
Before they could breach, the door to engineering blew outward in a flash of fire and shrapnel which would have incinerated the Chief and Major if not for the safety protocols.
Clay called out: “Pause program!”
The flame stopped, everything went still.
“So.. what, Chief, did we learn from this?”
Vashti stayed where she was for a second, crouched just inside a layer of frozen smoke. Her breathing slowed on its own and she came to her feet slowly, unsealing the helmet and lifting it free from her head.
She looked at the corridor. The fallen Jem'Hadar, the marines paused in their positions. Then she looked at Clay.
"What did we learn?" she repeated. "That the Dominion architects are sadists. That bottlenecks kill people. That Majors bucking for Colonel still believe in the fucking Kobayashi Maru. And that if you give an engineer a rifle, she's going to look for something explosive to solve her problems."
She stepped closer, armour plates clicking with each movement. "Also," she added, "that I can keep people moving under fire--but I don't like the cost. I hesitate where Marines don't. I leave people behind and carry it with me. Which tells me I'm still thinking like someone who fixes things after the fact, not someone who breaks them while they're fighting."
There was no apology in her voice. It was a straight, in-your-face assessment and she didn't care how many feathers she ruffled. The simulation felt like a no-win and she knew exactly why the Caitian had chosen it.
"You did leave Marines behind, which for a Marine goes against the espirt de corps and doctrine. Dominion ships are always built with bottlenecks cause they think tactically."
Clay stood his full height, a broad 6'9' and towering over the Chief.
"As for your thoughts on the Kobayashi Maru, It still serves value to evaluating officers for leadership in a No-Win Scenario. A No-Win situation is the possibility every commander may face, as it was once said by someone greater than I am"
Clay quoted from history.
Vashti didn't flinch when Clay stood to his full height. She'd spent her career working under warp cores and inside crawlspaces that could crush if you had but the imagination. Size had never impressed her much.
She tucked her helmet under her arm and ran a hand through her hair. "Respectfully, Major," she said, and there was almost nothing particularly respectful about the way she said it, "I know the quote. I know the theory. I even know why Starfleet keeps dusting it off and trotting it out like it's scripture."
She gestured back at the Jem'Hadar corridor--the dead marines, the smoke locked in the air. "You're right. I left Marines behind. And if this were real, that would haunt me for the rest of my life. And not because I violated doctrine--but because I understood exactly what I was trading, and made the call anyway."
"And admitting that is the mark of a true leader," Clay reassured the Chief.
"My recommendation to the captain will be that you are approved for command, with notes that I do want to continue working with you. You got a solid grasp of things, know what's what and can understand the risks of command."
Vashti took a breath and gave Clay a precise nod. "Thank you, Major," she said. "I appreciate the confidence. Truly." She hesitated and then went quieter, but maintaining her firmness. "I'll shoulder command if it's asked of me. But I don't intend to go looking for firefights. I'd rather keep ships afloat than prove I'm capable of breaking them under pressure."
Her mouth twitched. "If something starts shooting at me, I promise I'll respond with appropriate enthusiasm. Ideally, from behind several meters of reinforced bulkhead."
The comm opened.
[Engineering to Rao.]
Vashti rolled her eyes at the timing. "Go ahead."
[We've found a harmonic desync in the port EPS manifold. It requires some... delicate recalibration, Chief.]
"Understood. Have Scout and Moxx put together a repair team. I'll be there in a few minutes," she said confidently.
Vashti closed her eyes for a half second before smiling at the towering Caitian. "See?" she said. "The universe knows where I belong."
With that, she thrust her helmet into Clay's paws and left the holodeck, her armour clinking noisily.
Clay took the helmet, gripping it tight. Vashti would be interesting to work with but she had talent. Talent needing tempering but talent nonetheless as he stowed the helmet in the locker near the arch.
"Computer: End Program."
Major Clay McEntyre III
Marine Commanding Officer
USS Astrea
Master Chief Petty Officer Vashti Rao
Engineering Technician
USS Astrea
RSS Feed