Adjusting Sights

Posted on Tue Aug 18th, 2026 @ 4:34pm by Lieutenant Zachary Addams & Lieutenant JG Grace MacKenzie 'Sabre'

3,816 words; about a 19 minute read

Mission: Kintsugi
Location: Holodeck 1
Timeline: Day after "Helmet" 1100 hours

Zach wasn't sure if he was wasting his time, but showed up to the holodeck at 1050 hours, pulling a container behind him. As the holodeck doors closed behind him, he tapped the arch.

"Loading program," the computer said.

The blank holodeck grid vanished and was replaced by a clear blue sky above, and lush green grass below. The terrain was flat with hills in the distance, a perfect blank canvas for what he had planned.

"Computer," he said, "place a large, oak tree two meters in front of me with a wide canopy."

The computer beeped and a large tree appeared, leaving Zach suddenly in the shade. He pulled the large container up near him and sat down under the tree, leaning back against it and closing his eyes, listening to the wind and wondering if he'd be doing that the whole time.

Despite what had happened the day before, Grace would be damned if she wouldn’t show up dead on time. Her only problem was what to wear. There were two ways she could go with this and neither of them included the flight suit she wore on the daily basis and her drawers were completely empty because she replicated new flight suits and underwear daily. The empty bottom of the drawer reminded her that it didn’t have to be that way.

In the end, after debating the merits of jeans versus the long knee length skirts, what decided things was that she wasn’t going to be riding today, most likely. The patterned white and black pleated skirt was vaugely what she remembered from only six years before, the white and copper embellished shirt without the fringe on it smooth on her skin. She decided to not wear the makeup she often wore for her shooting, then with only seven minutes to spare changed her mind, hurriedly adding the mascara, eyeshadow and lipstick that had her smiling with some confidence into the mirror before she looked at the chrono and realized she was late.

She shoved her feet into the replicated white boots and grimaced as she realized they were slightly too small, but that couldn’t be helped, running down the corridor and to the turbolift, hands wringing as it seemed to take forever. She burst out the doors as they opened on the right deck and panted as she was out of breath when she reached the Holodeck door and inside, “Ah’m here!” She got out, “Ah’m here, Ah didn’t forget!”

Zach didn't move from his resting position under the tree, but instead let out a dramatic snore and made a point of getting more comfortable.

Grace heard the over-loud 'snore' and her eyes narrowed, but she kept moving towards him. She was iffy on if he was actually asleep or not, but since she was late... "Computer, Winchester model 1873." She whispered and in front of her the sleek earlyish model lever-action rifle appeared in midair and she grabbed it, planting her front foot and flicking off the safety with a 'snick' sound. Fifty feet was a clap shot for her with this rifle and she aimed right above his head and pulled the trigger with a loud 'CRACK'. A 'thwip' sound and a thunk as the bullet hit the tree an inch above his head sounded. "Wakey, wakey!" She said cheerfully.

The number one lesson of being the assistant in a knife-throwing trick: do not flinch. The moment he heard the call for a rifle he stilled his body and held his position. Once he heard the bullet hit above him, however, his eyes snapped open. "Oh, you made it," he said, casually. He stretched and stood up. "Well, excellent first demonstration," he said, grinning.

Clicket-ty, Clicket-ty Grace worked the lever-action twice, first a spent casing flipping out, then a bullet and she shook her head, “Action is all wrong on this, too stiff. She automatically bent to retrieve the brass, “And if Ah’d missed that shot from that distance? Ah’d have been truly embarrassed. But that’s what ah love about the Winchester, shoots straight and usually the sights are spot on right away.”

"Yes, how embarrassing for you if you missed," he said, dryly, looking at how near the bullet was to the top of his head. He stood up and told the computer to remove the tree. "I'll admit, I don't know much about guns, but I'll take your word on the Winchester." He flicked his wrist, producing a playing card. "I suppose, though, it's not the kind of gun to pip an ace?" He grinned at her.

Grace raised an eyebrow and brought the rifle back up quickly, CRACK, clicket-ty, CRACK!. The diamond in the playing card nearly vanished with the first shot, the top and bottom tips still showing, then the top tip vanished with the second and an irregular hole was there. Grace glanced down as she cycled the lever to the next round, “As Ah said, this close, it would be embarrassing to miss. You said you were puttin’ together a rifle in the program? What model is it? And if it isn’t a ‘73, Ah need a screwdriver or this action is goin’ to throw me off all day.”

Zach stared at the remnants of his ace and let the rest drop to the ground. "Alrighty, then," he said, stepping out of the line of fire. "Computer, one workbench, and a screwdriver, set to Ensign MacKenzie's height." A table that would've been low for him but set for her comfort appeared next to them, along with a screwdriver and bits. "I hadn't actually been working on rifles," he said. "I was working on something else. Computer, add container project BG-1 to the workbench."

She immediately got to work, wielding the screwdriver like someone who knew how to drive it, dealing with things down past the trigger guard. After a minute or so, she experimentally ratcheted the lever action and it was much smoother with a single-sounding ‘clicketty’ and the spent casing flew out. She did the same, ejecting the last three bullets in rapid succession, “That’s better.”

A case appeared on the bench. Zach opened it, revealing the twin revolvers inside. "What do you think?" he said. "I haven't prettied them up, but they function well."

Grace’s eyes opened in appreciation, reaching out to pick one up. Always keeping it pointed away from him and looking it over, then holding it up to her ear and rolling the cylinder and listening to the clicking sound it made, verified that it was unloaded before pointing down range again and slowly pulling the trigger, smiling as it broke cleanly to a click of the hammer, “Ooo, these are nice! I don’t suppose they come with a belt?” She grinned up at him.

Zach gave a shrug. "I'm sure we can have the computer make one." He produced another card. "And we can see how you do with a moving target." He flicked his wrist, sending it flying straight and true as a demonstration.

Demonstration it may have been, but Grace automatically took the revolver she was holding and snapped it up to eye level in response and pulled the trigger to a ‘click’ as the hammer fell on the empty chamber and she glanced down with a blush, “Perhaps Ah should load them first, don’t you think?” She gave a nervous chuckle, “Computer, check system for file MacKenzie, Grace, Three-six? And one box of forty-five ammunition.” She hoped that the threats had been groundless, that the Foch officers hadn’t been ABLE to delete these from the system and a white leather belt with one holster on each hip materialized next a large box of ammunition and Grace squealed in excitement as she put the pistol back down in the case and rapidly strapped the gun belt on, being sure to secure the strings at the bottom around her thigh.

Next, she finally slid the cylinder on first one, then the other revolver and slipped six fat bullets into each one before slowly making sure the hammer was down and not going to cause any misfires. The left revolver just slid into the holster, but she twirled the right one in a series of moves, backwards and forwards, on the sides then backwards again while moving her hand down so that it slid into the holster naturally.

Zach grinned as he watched her move. This was the Grace who he wanted to know, the one who smiled at him when they met. He just hoped he could keep her here and not let her shift back to the dark place. "So, want to show off with some stationary targets? Or should I just start throwing?"

"Ah think some stationary targets would be best.." Grace rolled her shoulders to stretch out a bit, "One out at three hundred feet, A couple out at two hundred, a seven of somethin' at fifty to seventy five and however many targets you want at whatever ranges you really feel like." She slid seven rounds into the Winchester, through the port on the side, "We may even need more ammo, but we'll see."

"Computer," Zach said. "Set up a series of targets, ranging from fifty to three hundred feet from a firing line." The computer beeped in agreement, and the targets appeared, each one a simple red circle on a pole, ready to be aimed at.

"Thanks, Sugarcube." Grace turned to face the targets, putting the rifle on the table for the moment, taking a deep breath as she pulled the right revolver and rolling the cylinder on her arm in what looked to be habit, then spun it on the trigger guard around her finger once to let it smack into her palm and settle, then brought it up to in line with her eyeline and started shooting. She took her time with this one, one shot every two seconds and the targets began to vanish from the fifty foot line, then seventy-five and as the sixth round flew and hit a target at the hundred-foot line, she smoothly pulled the other revolved and brought it up in line as well, and began to squeeze off rounds with it as well, still not missing as she effectively repeated the exercise with that one.

Twelve rounds, twelve hits, though one of the rounds with the left gun hit the outside marker, then she holstered them before reaching for the rifle again and ratcheted the lever to load the first round and snapped it up to her sightline. This time she started at a hundred feet, but rapidly moved to the next and next, the fourth shot centering the two hundred foot mark before the next shot went through that hole, enlarging it slightly along with the third shot, barely feeling the recoil and without watching to see if that one hit the target aimed at the one at three hundred feet. The length of a football field with no scope, the target seemingly just a dot in the distance. The rifle remained steady for several seconds before the shot came as more a surprise than anything.

Zach raised an eyebrow watching the display, genuinely impressed. He gave a long, low whistle. "You would have been a menace at a carnival rifle range game," he said, chuckling. "Damn impressive though."

"Warmups." Grace smiled at him as she began the reload process on all three guns, "Ah'll have to get some speed reloaders at some point, but Ah appreciate the compliments." Her smile made her makeup all the more glow..

"You're welcome," he said. "Although, incidentally, could I request a cooler nickname?"

"A cooler nickname?" Grace asked him all confused, "What's wrong with well.."

"Yeah well 'sugarcube' doesn't quite stack up with something like 'Sabre,'" he said. "A sword, versus a horse snack? Not quite on the same level."

"Sabre is my callsign, not a nickname." Grace laughed, "A professional nickname, Ah suppose, not one between friends or more. Ah got it just a few weeks ago when Ah won a sabre from Lieutenant Walker in a poker game. Ah'd been in need of a callsign instead of a number, and it's a tradition that one's fellow pilots give them that." She holstered both pistols again and walked over to him, "Why, you don't like it when Ah call you sugarcube?" She batted her eyelashes at him.

Zach blushed, unable to withstand the assault of a pretty face batting her eyes at him. "I didn't say I didn't like it, per se," he said. He smiled at her and shrugged. "All right, Gracie, 'Sugarcube' it is if you want."

"No." Grace said firmly, her smile fading slightly, "Not 'Gracie', never 'Gracie', that is the one thing that Ah have always despised bein' called. It didn't help that my first boyfriend was named George, back when Ah was fourteen, so they never let me live that down."

Zach had no idea what the name George had to do with anything, but he couldn't help but get an evil smirk. "Oh, so, giving me an overly cute name is fine, but giving you, the actual cute one between us, an adorable version of your name, that's a no go? I don't know...doesn't seem fair."

"Ah just.. Ah know what-" Grace stamped her foot once in frustration, then sighed, "Fahn. If you wanna call me Gracie, Ah suppose Ah could let you, but the first time you make it sound like you're callin' me a whale?" She patted the holstered pistol on her right side, "Then you'll be in trouble."

Zach tilted his head in confusion, now positive he was missing a reference. Must be a Terran thing, he thought. "Fine and the first time you make it sound like you're feeding me to a horse, you'll be in trouble." The foot stomp was adorable, and he was trying hard to keep feigning annoyance. He was also having a hard time standing up straight, as he kept leaning closer to those green eyes.

"Well, sugarcube, good thing horses aren't carnivores, then." She was rooted in place and she tried to step back, but her feet refused to move her, her eyes locked on his.

He saw the flicker and the shift behind her eyes. There was the same thrill he felt, but there was fear. Before he'd consciously made the decision, he adjusted course and veered to the side, kissing her temple. He stood back up and cleared his throat. He plucked another playing card out of the air and held it up. "Another round?"

Mixed emotions filled her: Relief that he hadn't just kissed her, but a larger flood of disappointment of the same. She licked her lips out of reflex and leaned forward just as he left her immediate vicinity of a few inches, missing her chance to rectify the disappointment. Then she looked down at the ground and consciously stepped backwards, whatever had been keeping her feet in place having suddenly vanished, then back up. "What, you wanna try throwin' them this time, see if Ah can hit 'em?"

"Can you?" he said, flicking his wrist and sending a card flying straight into the blue.

Her right pistol came out of the holster as if on it's own, sightline snapping into place, tracking it as it bit into the air and suddenly was face on for a brief moment. There was a sharp retort as she squeezed the trigger, the off-center of the card vanishing in the fraction of a second before it began it's downwards fall.

Zach smirked at her and brought his hands together, fanning out the rest of the deck. "More where that came from," he said. He picked out the ace of spades and shot it into the air.

Grace laughed as she picked the ace out of the air on the fly this time, not letting it slow and pulled her other pistol out as well. Being ambidextrous was useful in times like these.

Another ten cards flew and with the last bullet, the last spade burst into pieces and hit the ground. Zach shuffled the rest of the cards idly and shook his head. "We'd have made for a great act together," he said, looking at the bits of plying card around them like giant snowflakes. He smiled at her and nodded. "You're pretty great, Gracie."

Inside one part of her warred with the other, the teasing of the girls from when she was a freshman against the affection in his voice when he called her that ever so hated nickname. It was six-five and pick ‘em as to which would win, so she kicked the girls in the shins mentally to give him the advantage. She didn’t think any of it showed as she holstered her pistols once more, reaching up to tip the Stetson on her head back a little bit, giving more light to her face and unmarred lipstick, “Ah happen to think you’re pretty good too, Sugarcube. Maybe if this here ship throws a talent show, we could give them a treat?”

Part of him had a really good joke to respond with, but he knew it would upset her. Another part of him wished she'd go back to Zed instead of "Sugarcube", but at least her accent made it sound cute. Another part won out. "Well, every act needs a grand finale." He had the computer create five silver dollar coins and one gold coin. He picked them up and rolled each between his fingers. "Better reload," he said, grinning. "Time for the finale."

"Oh...?" Grace smiled, turning around again to empty just a single pistol of the empty shells, sliding brand new rounds into the cylinder once more and snapping it back into place, "Only gonna need one for this, Ah think." she slid it back into the holster, ready for a quick draw as she recognized what he was about to do.

When she was ready with her hand on her holster, he stepped back. "Go for the gold, Gracie," he said, tossing the six coins in the air.

The coins spread out into the air in a glittering array and she took quick stock while hand flashed the pistol out and up, one hand steadying it while the other hovered near the hammer. First shot knocked the first silver coin out and away, hitting it on the thin edge and she instantly flicked the hammer back again to repeat with the next silver coin. Repeat, repeat, repeat and the gold coin was remaining and at the apex of toss. One final shot cracked out, but instead of flying away, a hole appeared in the center of it and smoke was seen drifting out of the now empty pistol.

Zach's eyebrows bobbed. "Show off," he said, grinning. "I just wanted to see you hit the gold coin."

"That would have been too easy!" Grace grinned at him, "I didn't want you to think that all I was good for was a single shot."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said, grinning.

"Besides, by shootin' all of the silver ones first, it does show Ah'm a discerning sort of girl." She reached up to preen a little bit in humor, then noted something that she hadn't actually noticed before, "What's in the box over there?"

"Oh, that?" he said, looking at the container behind him. "Well I haven't had lunch yet so..." he looked up. "Computer reset program to an empty field."

The targets and table and guns vanished and it was just them and the open grass under the sky. Zach opened the container, taking a large red and white blanket and spreading it out in front of them. "Thought I'd do us a favor and have some food ready."

From one container he pulled out hot fried chicken, french-fried potatoes, and buttered corn. From the other container he pulled out cole slaw, potato salad and bottles of ice cold ginger ale. "Join me?" he said.

"Do Ah have a choice?" She giggled as she followed him over to the blanket and after a moment used her feet to take off her boots, leaving her barefoot while she set herself down, taking each container from him to put on the cloth in the proper picnic style, "A Southern style picnic lunch for this? You're tryin' to earn points with me, aren't you?"

"Well, truth be told, fried chicken is one of my favorite Terran foods," he said. "I just made sure to have appropriate accompaniments." He handed her a plate and cutlery, letting her have first go at it.

The problem was that there were too many option, so she started off with a drumstick and a wing from the chicken, then helpings of the potato salad and cole slaw, hesitating before also grabbing one of the corn cobs and resting the plate on the ground while she grabbed the drumstick first, "So, this is what you planned for that meal with me?"

"Uh, no, this most certainly does not count for that," he said, emphatically. "I said you owe me dinner. This is lunch. Two very different things."

Grace tittered with a giggle before pointing the chicken piece threatening at him, "Now look, you, one of these days we'll be even and then we can start over like real people." Her heart wasn't into the 'threat' though and it was clear in her smile. "In the meantime, however, Ah'm gonna have to do somethin' in return, you know?"

"Oh, threatening me back hm? Well, do your worst," Zach said with mock defiance, then grinning. He took a few bites, chewing thoughtfully. "Vulcan isn't really much for picnic spots. It's just so damn hot there." He shuddered and took a long sip of his drink. "Makes me thankful for the ship's climate controls."

She finished stripping the meat off the bone and set it down on the plate before picking up a fork to dig into the other stuff on her plate, "Well, if you look at it, you're findin' ways to prevent me from makin' up for that dinner that Ah ruined, which suspiciously looks like excuses to spend time with me. Maybe if Ah try some reverse psychology, like doin' more things with you, then one time it'll actually be dinner and we'll be square with each other!" Her eyes glittered.

"No, please. Don't," Zed said with the driest inflection possible, then broke out into a grin. "Then again, I suppose that'll be the only way I'll learn my lesson."

A post by:

Lt. Zachary Addams
Chief Engineer
USS Tokyo

Ensign Grace MacKenzie
Fighter Pilot
USS Tokyo

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