Rodeo

Posted on Wed Jun 10th, 2020 @ 10:30pm by Lieutenant Commander NightWing K'Trevala

2,459 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Going Home
Location: Holodeck 1

Lieutenant Commander NightWing
Chief Medical Officer
Lieutenant Commander C.J. Langley
Chief Engineering Officer
Joint Log 2020.06.10
Rodeo
Langley took a deep breath and tugged on his shirt. Both actions were relaxation
techniques he typically used while on duty in the midst of one engineering crisis or
another. He had not expected nervousness to present today. Today he was introducing
NightWing to another aspect of his life, one that had to do with unruly ‘engines’ of
another kind. Like nacelles, these ‘engines’ had a mind of their own. If not treated with
finesse and respect this ‘engine’ could kill you, sometimes in less than eight
seconds. Much like the engines and many other systems that engineers are tasked with
keeping purring like kittens and in turn to maintain the safety, integrity and
functionality of the whole ship - the ‘engine’ C.J. would be showing NightWing today
also demanded finesse and respect.
C.J. had programmed the rodeo while in the academy. He had not been able to make it
back for the county rodeo in two years; the decision to program his own was an easy
one. He was looking forward to taking NightWing into the holodeck; he wondered if she
had ever heard of an American western rodeo. The grandstands were a replica of his
hometown’s. Even the brand of the beer and brats being vended was the same as he
remembered. They would see calf-roping, barrel-racing, bucking horse riders and bull
riders to name a few. During intermission there would even be a mutton-buster race for
the cowpokes and cowgirls ages five and under.
NightWing got the invitation to meet him in the Holodeck and headed over after her
shift in Sickbay was over. Anything would be good after dealing with all the plasma
burns, they had been having to deal with and right now, honestly, she was getting tired
of the sickly-sweet smell of burned flesh tainted with the scent of the plasma coolant
that Starfleet used. She headed over to the Holodeck and slipped inside, looking for CJ.
Garbed completely in western wear, C.J. grinned as NightWing entered the deck. With a
sweeping motion, he removed his ten-gallon hat and bowed. “Howdy, Ma’am.” Slim jim
jeans, ornately carved leather boots and a bandana tied around his neck completed his
look. Offering her his arm, Langley escorted NightWing through the entrance arch and
to their seats waiting for them. If one had grown up with C.J., then they might have
recognized several rodeo spectators seated nearby. “The processional is about to
begin.””
“Tokast, Ke’chara, thank you, beloved.” She took his arm and moved over to their seats
as she took in the sights and scents of the arena. At least, the clean smell of well caredfor animals overpowered the scents coming from the cooking areas, but maybe BBQ
wouldn't be so bad after all.
The procession was twenty-five minutes of pure rodeo pageantry. C.J. hoped
NightWing would not be too terribly bored by the music and singing of songs that she
probably did not know. Of course, there was the parade of champions, with flags on
display and the rodeo queen out front on a white charger fit for a princess.
NightWing sat smiling as she listened to the songs and even tried her own at adding a
descant to a few of them, praising the wild freedom of the plains, sweeping along in
counterpoint like a crop of tumbleweeds before a summer storm. She looked closely at
the charger the Rodeo queen was riding, slightly disappointed that the gorgeous equine
didn’t have sapphirine eyes, but she guessed that not everyone could have everything
they desired.
The first event was Tie-Down Roping. First place was claimed by a margin of two
seconds. Given a head start out of the gate, the calf’s goal was to evade the rope and not
be tied down. Of eight contestants, two unfortunately missed their calf on the first try,
causing the crowd to murmur in sympathy. Team roping was next. Caught by the back
legs and the neck, two ropers showed their prowess. All six teams were successful and
again, first place was determined by mere seconds.
“I participated in rodeo events while growing up.” C.J. told NightWing. The crowd was
loud and boisterous, making conversation tricky. “I was never much good with roping--
I tried, but I was a much better rider than roper.”
NightWing grinned.” Then how were you able to snare me so easily?” she teased him as
she leaned over and kissed his cheek.
“Well, I dare say, my prize was much more valuable than a silver buckle.” C.J. chuckled
quietly, a bit of blush blooming on his cheeks. “I’m going to go get us something to
drink and a snack. I’ll bring back some traditional rodeo food fare. Hope you like it.”
He grinned.
“Make any drinks for me nonalcoholic, who knows when they’ll need me back in
Sickbay?” she told him seriously. She Loved being with him but she still had her duties
to attend to. Yes, there were other doctors, Heather was one of the better of them, but
none of the others on the Aldrin’s staff had her abilities on dealing with healing the way
she did.
Pieto, the rodeo clown, was in the middle of the arena setting up barrels, preparing for
his routine that would begin shortly. He had mastered the art of jumping into and out
of barrels with the grace of a ballet dancer. Like mimes and slap-stick comedians of old,
he kept the crowd in stitches with his antics. Soon Pieto had the rodeo announcer
engaged in a bidding war to see how many jumps Pieto could make in sixty seconds. His
all-time best was ten.
NightWing watched while C.J. went for the snacks and drinks, totally enjoying herself
watching the master clown work the audience the same way he did his equipment, with
a grace and skill that was easy to see, even for all the antics he pulled for laughs.
“Six Seconds-Seven” The announcer proclaimed. Pieto had the crowd
mesmerized. “Five Seconds-Eight.” One could almost hear a pin drop as Pieto ran to
and from jumping into and immediately out of barrels. “Three Seconds-Nine.” The
voice of the announcer rang out, “I believe he’s gonna make it.”
“Come On, Pieto, you can do it!” NightWing called to him as the timer went into the last
few portions of a second before going off. She was hoping he’d break his own record at
eleven.
Some spectators held their breath. Everyone was on the edge of their seats. Pieto made
his tenth and last jump into a barrel as the announcer called out ten. The crowd
erupted, most jumping up, giving the victorious rodeo clown a standing ovation.
“Now, for our next event---bull riding.” The announcer called out loudly, hoping he
would be heard over the continuing ovation for Pieto. While Pieto was bowing, relishing
in his accolades, others gathered up the barrels. The announcer explained the bull
riding event and its rules. The primary goal was to stay on the bull and the secondary
goal was to remain alive. Some riders felt those two were in the wrong order of
importance. Most did not, as the vast majority of bull riders were committed to making
the eight second ride, regardless of physical danger to themselves.
“And now our first rider… this young man hails from Walsh County. He is currently
ranked fourth and will be attempting to claim third. Everyone, give a big round of
applause for Cameron Jamieson Langley.”
“I’m gonna ring his neck if the bull doesn’t do it for me first.” she thought heatedly.
The gate opened and Volcano, all 2,500 pounds of him, shot out, his back legs kicked up
and out, his hips twisting. C.J.’s body was flung back, his helmeted head nearly making
contact with Volcano’s hip bones. Volcano was in charge; Langley was but a mere
ragdoll the angry bull wanted to throw off his back anyway he could. For Langley
everything was gone except he and Volcano. If sheer determination was enough, C.J.
may have lasted the eight seconds. Alas, C.J. had not been on a bull for years and his
technique was rusty. Although his ride was good, his body went flying off Volcano at six
point five seconds. Instinctively, Langley rolled, hoping the direction was away from the
angry bull, who was still twirling and kicking. A pair of rodeo clowns distracted
Volcano, stepping between the bull and Langley.
NightWing saw him go flying and headed down there to make sure he was alright,
waiting till he was brought back to the chutes to really check him over. She knew not to
get in the ring without making sure it was safe.
Langley got up and dusted the dirt off his jeans. Scooping up his nearby hat, he gave the
crowd a wave as he made his way out. Six point five. Langley shook his head
forlornly. That was okay for most, but not for him. It was embarrassing actually. He
had had eight second rides consistently while active in rodeo prior to Starfleet. Only two
or three on his circuit scored as high as Langley had.
NightWing came over and kissed him, checking him over as she did so to make sure he
was alright. Seeing a blank spot on the roster against a bull named “Widder-maker”, she
nodded to the official to add her name there.
“Um…” C.J. started, a bit quietly. “That didn’t go quite as I had hoped.” He
shrugged. “I haven’t ridden in a while.” He cleared his throat. “I used to be able to
make full rides with high scores.”
“It’s alright, Ke’chara, there’ll be other times. “She kissed him again now that she knew
that his worst injuries were to his ego.
“I never got those snacks I mentioned.” Langley grinned sheepishly. He really thought
he would have been able to make the full ride. “Getting snacks was just a ruse to leave
and saddle up.” He smiled at NightWing. He was glad she was not reading him the riot
act right now. “Want to go get something to eat?”
“Maybe in a bit, I thought I’d try my hand at some stuff too,” she told him with a
twinkle in her eye, that he knew was a sign for total and pure mischief on her part,
though what she had planned up...he had no idea.
“Okay.” Langley answered, sounding a bit leery. “Shall we go back to our seats, then?”
“Go ahead, I’ll be up in a moment or two after I find the cowgirl’s room.” She told him
with a smile. It wouldn’t hurt to watch the bulls’ actions from something closer to
ground level. Maybe she could figure out how they thought and without using her extra
abilities either.
C.J. plunked down in his seat. The cardboard tray he carried held two chili-cheese dogs,
two brats with sauerkraut, two bags of hot jalapeno chips and two tall, frosty cold
lemonades. Ice cream for dessert would have to be purchased later, lest it melt. Food
was a great way to soothe a bruised ego. Holding up a chili-cheese dog to his mouth,
Langley dived right in.
More people went on their bulls, none of them making even six seconds. It looked like
the bulls were winning that day when the announcer said that they had
a late contestant riding “Widder-Maker” and it looked as if they never had ridden
before because he didn’t see any stats on the rider but Widder-maker was well known on
the circuit for living up to his name by costing at least a dozen cowpokes their careers if
not their lives.
NightWing had all the needed protective gear on and was wrapping the rope around her
now gloved hand the way she had watched the others do before settling down on the
cantankerous Brahma’s shoulders to see how she’d do against him. She felt his
peevishness at the tight bellyband with the bell and then just patted his shoulder. “It’ll
be ok, big fella. Let’s just show them a good ride.” That was it till they pulled the chute
door open and Widder-Maker took off in a tornadic series of spins and bucks that she
seemed to be handling easily. She kept her mental ear on the clock counting the ride’s
time and jumped off at 6:45 seconds, rolled twice on the ground, which freed her hair
and waved to the crowd as the clowns got the belly band free from the big bull.
Langley’s eyes nearly popped right out of their sockets when he recognized NightWing
as the bull rider. Startled, he sucked in a mouthful of chili-cheese dog with his next
breath and it lodged snugly in his throat. He had leapt to his feet hollering to those
around him that the rider was his girl. It was several seconds before he realized that he
was not talking, he was choking. The blockage was cleared by a Good Samaritan from
two seats over who performed a textbook Heimlich on Langley. The food lump sailed
over several heads, making its way into the arena. Had the bull carrying NightWing
been closer to the rail in front of C.J., then NightWing could have caught it.
She grinned as she made her way back to where C.J. was. “You’re right, Ke’chara, it IS
fun!” Seeing the look on his face she went to check him over again to make sure there
was nothing amiss. “Sauce for the goose, C.J., sauce for the Gander.”
“That was awesome!” C.J. hugged NightWing, giving her a kiss. “Have you ever done
anything like that before?” He queried.
“Not exactly but we were trying some of the techniques similar to the Minoan Bull
dancing, like doing a variation of vaulting onto a bull’s back from between the horns. I
WAS thinking of going into a full style handstand with the rope when he was jumping
but I didn’t know if it were allowed and it would have been too risky for anyone that was
not trained in bull dancing and gymnastics.” She told him. “It would have been totally a
show stopper for certain… but I made certain not to best your time. You deserved the
top ride.”
Grinning proudly, C.J. shook his head. That was his girl who had been out there on a
bull. Imagine that.

 

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