Date: Thu, 8 Dec 2011 20:07:32 -0800 (PST) From: B Chapel Subject: Trek Training This "Star Trek" themed fanfiction is based upon the movies and television shows of the same name. All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of Paramount Studios. "Mentor" Ensign Jennifer Buck sat in the social lounge of theUSS John Henry reading her datapad and wondering how its news was going to affect her. Her best friend, Lt. Hawley Gretch had put his down and was well into his second Bloody Mary, he seemed unconcerned. "A mentoring program?" she asked. "I don't understand." "I've heard about this kind of thing before, I think they did it on theUSS Bozeman last year. Don't get all twisted up about it." "I don't need any mentoring," Buck said. "I do a good job." "Don't look at it that way," Gretch said. He had loosened his hair from the strict pony tail he wore when on duty and let his dreadlocks shake free. "It's not like we're doing a whole lot right now. Getting a little extra training from a senior officer is good for your career, remember that. The extended patrol in the Neutral Zone is going to go on for a long time, the captain is probably trying to keep the cabin fever down." "Isn't that what the holodeck is for?" She stared out the bulkhead window at the corner of the bar at the ringed planet the John Henry was orbiting. They had been stationed over the godforsaken gas giant for a week. Something about fluid dynamics or high-pressure wind systems. The sweeping, elegant Centurion-class starship was made for exploring deep space and fighting whatever it ran afoul of -- burping a gas cloud was an undignified task for a lady as glorious as the Henry. Buck felt the same way about herself. She was a first contact officer, a professional trained in how to handle the particularly delicate task of deciphering and understanding a new culture when the United Federation of Planets came across one. She knew how to read the signs, the subtle quirks and mannerisms that the computers and the translators couldn't decipher. A good first contact was like a good first date, make the right impression and all the doors open. She was good at her job. Parked 300 miles over the face of a planet she couldn't even walk on with no signs of anything more intelligent than bacteria clinging to the six misshapen moons in its orbit, she was useless onboard the Henry. "Who did you draw?" Gretch asked. "I'm going to be working with Dr. Pluure. Should be fun, I once worked in a convalescent center in San Francisco so I'm kinda prepared." "Cmdr. T'Lev." "Shiiiit. Good luck with that." Commander T'Lev was the tactical officer of the USS John Henry and a Starfleet legend. After working for 30 years in the Vulcan home defense force she entered Starfleet Academy and graduated at the top of her class. She rose through the ranks like a meteor to become a full commander in just seven years by distinguishing herself in battles with the Klingons. She was hard, driven and a hard example to live up to. During her time on the Henry she had earned a reputation as the hardest officer on the deck. "Keep laughing, jackass." she said. ******************************** "I have reviewed your service files, you are a competent officer," T'Lev said coolly. "But Captain Halsey wants me to take you under my wing, as it were, and we will be spend the time he has allotted productively." "Of course commander." Buck stood at parade rest in Cmdr. T'Lev's office. The room was sparsely decorated except for a few weapons hanging on the walls, mementos of conflicts all over the Alpha Quadrant. There was a Klingon bat'leth, an Andorrian rock cudgel and a 21st century human-made fletchette rifle. It was rare stuff, certainly, and all lethal. "I'm concerned about health," the Vulcan said. "Health is just another state of readiness and that is the essence of tactical work." "I completely understand," Buck said. "I'm up to date on all of my checkups and have a clean bill of health." "That is not my concern," the Vulcan said as she got up from the desk. "I am more interested in seeing that you can complete a force readiness test. When was the last time you ran a combat program on the holodeck?" "It's been a while," Buck said. "Not since you were at the Academy," she said, "That is not acceptable." T'Lev stood in front of the ensign. She was tall and sculpted like a goddess. T'Lev was whipcord trim with tight lines. Her breasts were high above a carved flat stomach and toned hips. She had her white-blonde hair tied back in a tight bun with just a few tresses of hair let loose around her temples. She, like most of her race, was a perfect physical specimen. Buck was...not. It wasn't that she was out of shape, per se. She had a pair of full wide hips that enclosed a round, lush pair of buttocks shaped like a pear. Her dark brown hair fell in loose rings that framed her large brown eyes and fell over her round breasts. Her mother said it was her Mediterranean blood that made them "curvy." Her roommate at the Academy called her "plushy." Gretch said she was a "plump little berry." She was healthy, certainly, but she did jiggle when she walked, "I don't run into a lot of combat situations." "And yet you are placed in direct contact with potentially hostile aliens...if you do what you're on this ship to do." "Strictly speaking," Buck nodded, "that doesn't happen if I'm doing my job the right way." "The captain has seen fit to place you in my tutelage," T'Lev said. "I don't care for the situation any more than you do. I agree with nearly every other officer on the John Henry that the mentoring program is a thinly veiled attempt to alleviate the queues for holodeck service, but I am not in the habit of disregarding the captain's orders. I can help you, Ensign." "So it's combat training?" Buck thought about the last time she held a phaser rifle, it had been years. She put on her most winning smile, "I'm sure I can find my shooting glasses somewhere." "I have more respect for the gun range than that," the Vulcan said. "We will be starting with physical conditioning." "Well then, when do you want to go to the gym?" A lot of the enthusiasm had gone out of her voice. "I have more respect for the gym than that," T'Lev said. "Report to my quarters at 06:30 tomorrow." ************************ By 07:32, Ensign Jennifer Buck wanted to die. After stretching, calisthenics, and a brief primer on Vulcan yoga techniques she had been placed on an elaborate four-point artificial gravity rock climbing simulator. Her feet were a mere six inches from the floor, but she had been climbing for a very long time. Her baggy blue exercise shorts and matching top were soaking with sweat. There was a shivery tremor that was developing in her calf that was making every move "upward" successively harder than the last. "You are barely 100 feet off of the ground," T'Lev said. She was wearing a pair of gray shorts and top that were so tight that they appeared to be painted onto her. Every plane of her immaculate body was apparent. "Do you know why you've made so little progress?" "I don't climb? Ever?" "It is because you are woefully out of shape Ensign," she said. "Your life is almost entirely sedentary. You do not exercise." "I pass my physicals." Buck panted, "I'm cleared for service!" "The minimum standards exist for a reason," the Vulcan said, "and you are the proof. Climb." Buck reached another hand upward, waited for it to find purchase in the computer-rendered air, and pulled upward. Whatever T'Lev had set up in her stateroom, it was her compensation for having nothing else. There wasn't a thing on the walls in the room. No art. No diplomas. Not so much as a fleck of dust to differentiate the difference between lived in and vacant. Big, she thought. Six of us share a room this large. As she struggled, T'Lev stood behind her, "Do you know why this is so difficult for you? It is because you are fat and slovenly." "Hey!" "I care for myself. I have respect for my body. You have let your backside grow sloppy and thick." She slapped Buck's ass with a resounding crack, causing it to jiggle. The struggling ensign, momentarily shocked, lost her balance and fell to the floor in a heap. The Vulcan stood over the girl with her hands on her well-formed hips, "This is obviously going to be a long process. Get up, you need to clean yourself." Buck got wearily to her feet and turned to the door. T'Lev stopped her, "No, you will not leave my cabin looking like that." ************************************************** T'Lev led Buck into the largest bathroom the ensign had ever seen on board a starship. The room was dominated by a large, plexiglass-enclosed shower from which radiated the only smells in the whole cabin. There were flower smells and spice smells mixed in with the undeniably familiar smell of soap. Real, honest to Earth soap. Finally, she thought, something about this woman that makes sense. T'Lev crossed to the shower and turned it on. Water, Buck thought, she actually has a water shower. She and her roommates, 30 decks below, only had a sonic dry-shower. Rank has privileges. T'Lev pulled off her top in a single move then bent over to remove her shorts. She stood and turned to face Buck. She was perfect. The taut plane of her abdomen led down to an orderly white-blonde patch of pubic hair. The tuft of hair was a neat v-shape over her bare labia. She gestured to Buck, "Remove your clothes." Buck had been staring at the Vulcan's naked body and missed the actual words, "Huh?" "Take off your clothes, ensign," she said. "One does not shower in clothing." A minute later Buck stood in the back of the shower, halfheartedly trying to cover her breasts and pussy at the same time as she watched a superior officer stand underneath a three-headed array of water spouts. The Vulcan looked back at her and pressed a button that activated three shower heads above Buck. In a second she was drenched head to toe. She shrugged and ran her hands through her hair and started to wash up. After a few seconds of shampooing her hair (the tangerine-kiwi), she noticed the Vulcan woman looking at her. "Why do you do that?" "What?" Buck flinched, it had been a tough afternoon for her. "What did I do?" T'Lev gestured toward her thighs, "You have unkempt pubic hair." "Oh," she said and looked down at the curls of brown hair concealing the soft lips of her sex. "Yeah, I guess so." The Vulcan offered her a sonic razor, "You look like an ape. Attend to that." Buck looked at the razor and then at her downy muff. "I think it's pretty to look natural." T'Lev's hand flashed out and activated the razor, burning a swath of curly hair away from the girl's vulva and leaving a strange, diagonal line. "It's never acceptable to appear messy. Fix it now." Buck stared down at her newly striped pussy, took the razor and sat back in the corner of the shower. She drew the slightly vibrating wand across the remaining hair, trimming it away to reveal soft, bare skin. She lifted her left and then right leg high to get between her thigh and outer lips, leaving her hairless and pink. She took a sponge and washed away the last few traces of hair away from her skin and looked at her coral-pink labia, "I've got a baby pussy now. Is that all right?" "What did you say?" "Baby pussy," Buck said as she stood up underneath the shower. "I'm bare like a little girl." "At least part of you is under control," T'Lev turned off the shower, stepped out and handed Buck a thick, fluffy towel. "Dry yourself. We have things to discuss." MORE TO COME...