Working Out the Rage

Posted on Sat Jan 10th, 2026 @ 10:04am by Colonel Josiah McEntyre & Sub-Commander T'shir

997 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Tales of the War
Location: Gym - Unicorn Deck 5
Timeline: Midnight - Early December, 2156

The ship should be asleep. Only the skeleton crew of the night shift is on duty. Though some, like Josiah, just couldn’t sleep. The weight of command weighed heavily after the Coridan Campaign. The gym on Unicorn is a dim, industrial area, with only the hum of life support and distant footfalls outside the gym echoing through the corridors.

In the far corner, the heavy bag thuds in brutal rhythm.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

Josiah was drenched, stripped to a sweat-drenched undershirt, and shorts, bare-knuckled, hands raw and taped as he slammed knees, fists, elbows into the bag with raw fury, rage behind each strike. His frame is solid muscle, scarred and shadowed under the flickering light, the power systems still buggy from the battle still. Josiah’s MACO tags bounce with each strike.

Music playing through the speakers rigged to the wall. The chorus hasn’t hit yet. Just that low, boiling buildup:

“’Cause sometimes you just feel tired… you feel weak…”

The memories of Coridan coursing through him as he worked the bag. The raging battle in the Jornal Canyon, the brutality of the Nuclear Strike that lit the valley on fire. The rage he felt on the dropship, holding Bassett in his arms as the man died in them. Josiah’s worked it out on the bag.

THUD. THUD.

Another kick, another knee strike, another punch. His eyes were burning. Sweat flooding down. His teeth grinding with each impact. His fists bleeding openly now, red soaking into the bandages wraps. He pivots, dropping low and Judo tosses the bag off its anchor. It slams against the wall with a powerful thud that echos off the walls as Josiah screams raw in anger.

“’Til the roof comes off, ’til the lights go out…”

He drops to his knees, panting, chest rising with each breath, fists on the mat below him, his head down like in prayer.

He didn’t hear the door open. He looked up, his head turning to see T’shir coming into the gym.

“I guess you heard all that?” Josiah said as he walks over to pick up the PADD that controlled the speakers and turned off the music.

"There is very little on this ship that I don't hear, Colonel," T'shir responded simply. Whether she was referring to her position as Chief of both Communications and Intelligence or if she meant her heightened sense of hearing thanks to her Vulcan genetics was anyone's guess.

Josiah sighs, walking over to the bag on the floor, lifting it, hanging it back up.

"Coridan was a disaster, that much was clear. Now the Romulans are using nukes. God Damn NUKES!!" Josiah voice rose as he started working the bag again, more in anger than anything else. He turned his head to T'shir,

THUD, THUD

T'shir's eyebrows raised slightly as she averted her eyes, attempting to disengage from the rage that the Colonel was taking out on the heavy bag.

"How the hell are we supposed to defend ourselves against Nukes? Humans haven't experienced nuclear warfare since the end of WW3 and now just like that, our enemies are using the very weapons that nearly wiped us out!"

THUD, THUD

"What..." He started again, "What are our options, T'shir, Cause I don't have any but going on the offensive and nuking every Romulan bastard I come across."

T'shir turned her gaze back toward Colonel McEntyre, her expression difficult to read as she spoke her response with calculated precision.

"Our defensive strategy will need to be adjusted somewhat, but we do possess technological capabilities to defend against most after effects of a nuclear attack," she replied. "Our medical capabilities are far more advanced than what Humans possessed during their nuclear war period as well, Colonel. Our physicians are able to successfully treat and reverse many radiation related illnesses if exposure can be mitigated," T'shir reminded him.

"Of course at risk regions should begin preparations immediately," she added firmly. "Resources sent to build bomb shelters if the communities do not already have them."

"That may be true, but the Vulcans and Andorians haven't had a nuclear event within recent memory." Josiah stopped working the bag and looked over to T'shir as intense as ever.

"Everything about this war has been one disaster after another. We still don't know what the Romulans even look like. Berengeria couldn't even recover corpses of the Romulans because they slagged themselves before we could even recover them. Not to even mention those shocktroops of theirs. Do you think we have any chance of winning, T'shir?" He asked bluntly as he wiped his face with a towel.

"It is early to accurately predict long-term outcomes," T'shir replied. "But the tenacity of the Human spirit has long frustrated my people's desire for statistically predictable outcomes."

Josiah stepped away from the bag, grabbing up a towel and wiping his face of the sweat and grime from the workout.

“True. We as a species can be quite…illogical at times” Josiah commented with a smile.

“Any wise and sage consul for me?” He asked as he put the towel over his shoulders.

"Starfleet has been wise to forge allies where it can," T'Shir acknowledged. "It is the common element keeping governments like the Vulcans and the Andorians working together for this common goal. It was logical of Captain Archer and his crew to build these alliances despite discouragement from most all other parties involved. Logical."

"Logic will almost always certainly hold the correct answer, Colonel," T'shir affirmed, you must see past your own emotions.

"As always, I thank you for your counsel, T'shir." Josiah picks up his towel heading for the gym doors. "Care to join me for a Drink? he asked as he walked.

------
Colonel Josiah McEntyre
Commanding Officer
Unicorn NX-151
M.A.C.O SOD-Alpha

Sub-Commander T’shir
Officer of the Watch
Communications Officer
Argosy Liaison
Unicorn NX-151

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