Target Practice

Posted on Sun Sep 13th, 2026 @ 9:27am by Lieutenant Vireya Talvaren & Lieutenant Syvar MD

2,257 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Season 1 Episode 2: The Garden at the Edge of Night
Location: Phaser Range | USS Genesis

Vireya caught the expiry date while working through the security certification roster.

Syvar’s wasn’t overdue, but it was close enough that she knew exactly how this sort of thing went. Leave it a few more days and it would somehow become urgent at the worst possible moment.

She tapped the comm control at her station.

“Talvaren to Doctor Syvar. When you have a few minutes, could you come down to the phaser range? Nothing dramatic. Your weapons certification is coming up for renewal and I’d rather get ahead of it.”

By the time he arrived, Vi had one of the range lanes active and a standard hand phaser resting on the bench beside her. She looked over as the doors opened and smiled.

“Thanks for coming down.”

Her gaze flicked towards the weapon, then back to him.

“I promise this should be considerably less painful than whatever you imagined when Security summoned you to the range.”

"I wasn't concerned ma'am," the young doctor answered, though he looked at the phaser as though it was something vile. "It's just not something I'm comfortable doing. I know it's necessary and required but..." He hesitated, casting green eyes back to her and producing a very thin smile. "I don't like it. And I'm not good at it either, for obvious reasons."

Vi had noticed the look he gave the phaser before he ever said a word. Not fear exactly. Distaste, perhaps, with enough discomfort beneath it that she could understand why he had allowed the certification to drift towards its renewal date.

Her expression softened rather than hardening.

“I don’t expect you to like it, Syvar.” She rested one hand against the edge of the range console, leaving the weapon where it was rather than pushing it towards him. “I’d probably be more concerned if you were excited about carrying one.”

A faint smile touched her mouth before she glanced towards the phaser herself.

“But being a doctor isn’t an obvious reason to be bad with it.” There was no rebuke in her voice, only a gentle correction. “You spend your life protecting people. This is another way of doing that when talking, running or putting someone behind a locked door isn’t enough.”

Vi looked back at him. “Most of the time, you’ll never need anything beyond stun. Used properly, it gives you a way to stop someone without putting a hole through them, and that’s considerably kinder than most of the alternatives the galaxy offers.”

She let that sit for a moment. Syvar was intelligent enough that she didn’t need to explain what violence looked like when nobody had the means to stop it.

“If the galaxy were peaceful, I’d happily lock every phaser aboard Genesis in an armoury and forget the combination. Unfortunately, it isn’t.” Her smile returned, warmer this time. “So I don’t need you to enjoy this. I just need you comfortable enough that, if someone threatens your patient, your away team or you, the weapon in your hand doesn’t become another problem you have to solve.”

Vi finally nodded towards the phaser.

“And if you’re not very good at it yet, that’s fine. That part I can help with.”

Syvar hesitated and picked up the phaser at last, holding it like he was holding a hot iron. "There are other means," he offered uncertainly, "less violent means. Sickbay is packed with potions that could knock anyone out cold."

His eyes never left the undesired device as he spoke still holding it as far away from him as possible. "Sickbay is the safest place on a ship," he continued, now shifting his gaze to look at her. "I don't want to be good at it," he confessed, "but I'm required to pass this."

Vi’s gaze dropped briefly to the way Syvar was holding the phaser, arm extended as though distance alone might make it less offensive. She understood the discomfort, even if she didn’t entirely agree with where he was taking it.

“There are other ways,” she said, her tone gentle. “But most of what you have in Sickbay needs you close enough to touch someone with a hypo. If they’re already violent, that means putting yourself within arm’s reach and hoping you get there first. Anything you release into the air has the opposite problem. It doesn’t know the difference between the person attacking you and everyone you’re trying to protect.”

She stepped a little closer, though she left the phaser in his hands. “And Sickbay can be secure, but I wouldn’t call it the safest place on the ship. You’ll have patients who can’t move, people who are injured or sedated, and very little room to retreat if someone dangerous gets through the doors. Sometimes you may be the only person standing between them and whoever comes in.”

Her eyes returned to his, warm rather than challenging. “A phaser on stun isn’t there because Starfleet wants you to hurt somebody. Quite the opposite. It gives you the chance to stop them from a distance without cutting them, breaking bones or putting a drug into their body that might react badly with something you don’t know about.”

A small smile touched her mouth as she glanced at the weapon he was still treating like contaminated surgical equipment. “You don’t have to like it. You don’t even have to want to become particularly good at it. I’m not trying to turn the Chief Medical Officer into a marksman. I just need you good enough that, if somebody is coming towards you or one of your patients and there’s no time for anything clever, you can stop them safely.”

Her expression softened another fraction. “That’s all we’re doing today, Syvar. Nothing more.”

Vi turned to the range controls and tapped in a simple programme. A few metres away, the air shimmered and resolved into a single humanoid holo-target, standing still in the centre of the lane.

She looked back at him.

“Standard stun. Centre mass. One shot.”

There was a faintly encouraging tilt to her smile.

Encouragement or not, Syvar closed his eyes as he tried to aim and pressed the trigger in vain hope of hitting the indicated target. He was so scared and uncomfortable, he didn't want to see what damage he was afflicting. It went against everything he believed in. Knowing she wouldn't be satisfied with a single shot, he blindly fired off a few more.

Vi’s smile disappeared the moment the first shot went wide. By the second, she had already killed the range programme, the holo-target vanishing before Syvar could blindly send another beam across the lane. His discomfort was no longer subtle; she could feel the fear and revulsion coming off him clearly enough, but sympathy stopped where safety did. “Syvar, eyes open.” Her voice was firmer now, though not unkind. “I mean it. I can work with you being nervous. I can work with you hating the thing. I cannot certify you while you’re firing without looking at what you’re aiming at.”

She stepped closer, watching him rather than the phaser. “Standard stun is meant to incapacitate. You’re not burning holes in anyone. But if you close your eyes, you’re not choosing who gets stunned anymore. You could hit the person you’re trying to protect, a bystander, a console, anything.” Her expression softened slightly, enough to take the sting out of the correction without weakening it. “That’s more dangerous than the weapon.”

Vi brought the holo-target back, leaving it stationary and obvious in the centre of the lane. “We’ll slow it right down. Keep your eyes open, breathe, aim at the middle and fire once. I don’t care how long you take.” She held his gaze for a moment. “And if you can’t do that today, we stop and try again another time. I’d rather delay the certification than pretend you’re ready when you’re not.”

The young Vulcan couldn't remember ever having felt so uncomfortable. He appreciated the security chief's patience with him but it didn't quench his anxiety. How he had passed the previous time he didn't even remember, despite usually having excellent recollection.

He took a deep breath, and then another. "What if I never pass?" He asked anxiously, hoping the answer would be that he'd never have to touch another ranged weapon. His hand trembled as he held the phaser, and he added his right hand for support. It didn't stop the trembling, and part of him felt absolutely silly for his fear. It took several minutes and equal deep breaths before he finally fired a shot. A single shot that barely clipped the target. "I don't want to use weapons," he whispered, "it doesn't feel right to touch these."

Vi watched the tremor in his hands and, this time, didn’t bring the target back for another attempt. Whatever she had expected when she called him down here, this wasn’t somebody being awkward about an unpleasant requirement. She could feel the anxiety sitting much too close to the surface now, and another shot wasn’t going to teach him anything useful.

“Then maybe you don’t,” she said.

Her voice had lost the firmness she’d needed a few minutes earlier, though not the seriousness. Vi stepped closer and nodded gently towards the bench. “Put it down, Syvar. You’ve done enough for today.”

She waited until the phaser was out of his hands before continuing. “I’m not going to sign a certification saying you’re safe with one when you’re this uncomfortable. That wouldn’t be fair to you, and it wouldn’t be safe for anybody standing near you.” There was no judgement in it. If anything, she looked thoughtful now. “But failing this today doesn’t automatically mean I keep dragging you back here until one of us breaks.”

Vi rested a hand against the edge of the range console, considering him for a moment. “There may be another way to handle it. I can speak to the Captain and look properly at the regulations. If we can register you as someone who doesn’t carry a weapon except under very specific circumstances, then we work around that. It would mean some limits on what duties you can take and how we put away teams together, but you’re the Chief Medical Officer. I’d rather have you concentrating on keeping people alive than spending every mission terrified of what’s hanging from your belt.”

A small smile found its way back.

“And before you worry, I’m not giving up on you. I’m just beginning to think making you a good shot might be solving a problem we don’t actually have.”

A little colour returned to the young doctor's face as relief seemed to wash over him at her words. He allowed them to sink in for a moment as he watched her, a little life returning to his emerald green eyes. "Thank you," he whispered gratefully, resisting the urge to hug her. Still as he stood there, his youth was more than evident as well as his inexperience.

"I don't want to carry a weapon," he confirmed, "there are other ways to contribute to a team and I know how to defend myself I don't need someone else to do it for me."

Vi gave a small nod, relief in him obvious enough that she didn’t need to labour the point. “Then we leave it there,” she said, reaching for the PADD and closing the certification record rather than trying to make him take another shot. “I’ll speak to the Captain and get the non-user status sorted properly. You’ve made your position clear, and I’ve seen enough today to know pushing this any further isn’t going to help either of us.”

She secured the phaser and set it back on the bench. “You can still carry an appropriate field knife if you want one. Something useful for medical work, survival, cutting someone free, that sort of thing. I’m not going to pretend it replaces a phaser, but as a tool it makes sense.” Her smile returned, warmer now that the argument was finished. “You know how to defend yourself, and nobody’s questioning what you bring to an away team. We’ll work around the rest.”

Vi glanced towards the door.

“Go on. Get back to Sickbay before I find something else that needs certifying.”

"I can agree with a knife for utility purposes," Syvar nodded, arching a single eyebrow in surprise. "There's more that need certification?" He queried, hoping there really wasn't.

Vi laughed softly at the look on his face and shook her head. “No. There really isn’t. I was teasing you.”

She picked up the PADD and tucked it under one arm, then gave the secured phaser one last glance before looking back at him. “We’re done, Syvar. I’ll deal with the paperwork and speak to the Captain. You can forget this room exists for a while.”

Her smile lingered as she stepped aside to let him go.

“Go on. I'll see you later.”

"Thank you ma'am," the youthful doctor answered gratefully, then all but fled from the room that had given him so much distress.

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