<USS Avalon> Stress Relief by Ming Kabuki

Patrick Ming Kabuki considered himself a fairly calm man, definitely not 
given to fits of nervousness, but he couldn't sit in the cabin any longer, not 
after Malika told him what was going on.  Just hearing the word 'quarantine' 
made 
his blood run cold.  He barely suppressed a shudder after Malika clucked at 
him in sympathy then patted his shoulder.  She left him to go to her duty 
station, leaving him to think the worse, to worry.
 
His faith had never failed him before and it didn't fail him then.  Prayers 
and meditation brought his swirling thoughts under control but he was still 
with the physical side effects of the stress.  
 
"There is," he said out loud, "only one thing to do."
 
He shed the jacket, trousers, and formal collar he usually wore and traded 
them for loose exercise pants and a sleeveless shirt.  Ten minutes later, he 
stood barefoot in the middle of the ship's gymnasium.  He noted with some 
satisfaction that there was no one else there and plenty of martial arts 
equipment in 
stock. 
 
The workout started with the simple katas of the Northern White Crane style.  
The next stage, though, was the one that released the pent up stress.  Wooden 
posts were struck with kendo sticks and, more satisfactorily, well placed 
kicks and punches.  By the time he was done, sweat was dripping from every inch 
of him, including the hair that had escaped the long black braid he wore.  His 
hands and feet ached and several broken targets were strewn about but he 
definitely felt better.
 
His usual even keel restored, Ming looked around at the mess he'd created 
then shook his head and smiled.  "I am going to owe somebody an apology."
 
A few minutes later, the destroyed targets were disposed of and he headed for 
the sonic shower. He then changed into the spare exercise pants and shirt he 
brought with him.  It was in his head to just go back to the cabin and go to 
bed but the sensible part of him said that would only bring him back to the 
state that brought him to the gym.  
 
A sudden burst of inspiration made him smile and he turned and headed for the 
nearest turbolift.  What can they do?  Send me back?  With the aid of the 
computer's voice commands, he found his way to deck thirteen.  From the lift he 
could see the nine people under quarantine and another woman on the outside of 
the field.
 
"Wu de tyen ah," he said softly as he approached.  He sobered very quickly as 
he caught sight of the quarantined people.  His hand moved in a quick gesture 
of blessing but he nevertheless smiled when he caught sight of Vilya's auburn 
hair. He could see the lump on the back of her head and she looked nervous 
and pale but she looked infinitely better than the others.
 
Vilya caught sight of him and, despite still feeling woozy and having blurred 
vision, she stood up.  Skirting the Romulan, she edged her way over to the 
edge of the field.  She held her hand up, inches away from the field, even 
though she knew she couldn't touch him.
 
"What are you doing here?" she whispered.
 
"I missed you," he said simply, "and it looks like a prayer for divine 
intervention is order."
 
She wasn't going to tell him the other possible news, not yet.  She also 
couldn't disagree with his assessment of the situation.  Even though his 
beliefs 
were different from hers, she couldn't help but feel a wave of peace and 
comfort wash over her as he knelt there in front of her, and all the others, 
and 
began to pray.

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