The Wheel's Strongman Club

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Taking some valuable down time on board the Whaladon, Cirr had managed to sequester a corner of the massive cargo deck to himself. Assembled there was a bench he'd relieved from the Rogue's briefing room, a pair of ordnance racks, and what he'd learned from Master Chief Kochanski were excess engine drive spacers that she had either graded out of spec or didn't need. It looked like an unrelated pile of junk, but to Cirr, who'd been cooped up in a light freighter too long, they were gold in durasteel form.

All he needed to do now was a little creative cutting, and weighing. Donning goggles, he fired up a flare torch, cutting out circular blanks of durasteel from the bulk parts he liked best. Bit by bit, each hit the deck with a thunderous clang. As each one cooled, Cirr carefully slid it onto a nearby mass scale, jotting down the reading on each as he rolled it into a pile near the bench.

[Abarai Loki]

"Lieutenant Raurrssatta."

The familiar voice came from behind Cirrsseeto, patient and cool. Once he was satisfied he had the Cizerack's attention, Loki clasped his hands before him and continued.

"Lieutenant, across the room Master Nytherciria is attempting to guide padawans through a session of strict meditation. I use the word 'attempting' because you appear to be operating under the delusion that this Jedi training facility is your own personal workshop. The din is appalling. Have you ever tried to meditate through the relentless hiss of a cutting torch?"

Suddenly his hard face creased in confusion and his icy gaze glimmered at the sight of the assorted objects behind him.

"What are you doing?"

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr made an expression of embarassment, looking down at his feet. Of course he should've been more considerate. He thought because they were at the far side of the bay that it would have been alright. Thought wrong.

"Well, even Jedji have to worrk out, rrjight?"

Ears lifting a little bit, Cirr's eyes met Loki's and he shrugged a little.

"jI've been jin deep space on Layla too long. We don't rreally have enough space to do thjis sorrt of thjing. jI fjigurred jit would not only be good forr me, but forr everryone else too."

The big Cizerack peeled out of his work shirt, revealing his broad frame, that while obviously quite muscular, had perhaps less definition than was ideal. In particular, he was looking slightly soft at the middle, which he emphasised by giving his belly a slap.

"jI feel weak. Rreally need to deal wjith jit."

[Abarai Loki]

"I can see that," Loki said, glancing at the felinoid's torso with a frown.

Once more he stared at the arranged objects and this time realised what Cirrsseeto was doing. He folded his arms and his eyes narrowed, moving from the hulking lieutenant to his latest project and back again. A tilt of the head.

"Impressive. This is quite a display of resourcefulness and, with its rather makeshift design, it is one which is appropriate given our current... aesthetic."

To emphasise this, he surveyed the rest of the cargo hold, everywhere there were training stations juxtaposed from an endless variety of junk. He returned his attention to Cirrsseeto.

"I praise your innitiative, Cirr, the padawans will most certainly benefit from it."

"If you are about finished with the power tools, I am available... to help."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

To help...


"Oh! You mean wjith the uh...forrce, ljike a spotterr?"

He flashed an eager grin.

"That'll be grreat, yeah! And, jI can do the same forr jyou too!"

Eager to begin, Cirr tossed his rumpled shirt to the side in earnest, windmilling his arms back and forth as he squatted to loosen up.

"Now, let me thjink. My best would be thrree hundrred seventy kjilos."

He paused mid squat, checking his numbers, and counting on his fingers.

"Yeah, thrree-seventy. jI'm prrobably way off that now. Maybe down to thrree-twenty-fjive, and the barr wejighs fjifteen."

Leaping up and bouncing on his toes, he grabbed his right ankle with his right hand and arched his back a little to stretch out his leg, torso, and tricep on that side. Pausing, he glanced at the weights, counting the piles and figuring out the best way to do it.

"Okay, sjix of the bjig fjifty kjilo plates, thrree on each sjide, then two ljittle fjiverrs, that outta do jit."

[Abarai Loki]

On cue, two of the large plates floated into the air, gently bobbing as if carried on a rising tide. In unison they rotated and slid onto the bar poised over the bench. A second pair followed then another until all the was left were the smaller plates, which flew gracefully into place, and a pair of suitable restraining bolts. Loki tightened them manually and watched Cirrsseeto finish his warm-up.

"Do you find it difficult being inactive? To see your physical condition deteriorate?"

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr's face turned a bit awestruck, as he frequently did when witnessing the power of the force in action. It was even more spectacular when performed by the little prodigy.

Realizing that he'd been spoken to, Cirr answered the question, even as his makeshift weights continued to rack themselves.

"Well, jI've always been gjifted wjith strrength. Mama always taught that jit was jimporrtant to embrrace yourr gjifts. jI was gjiven sjingjing lessons when jI was young, wejights when olderr, and when no one was lookjing, books."

Cirr shrugged.

"Seems wrrong to let a gjift go to waste."

[Abarai Loki]

"Indeed. Shall we begin?"

Something confused Loki. Cirrsseeto failed to respond to his attempt to goad him into action. It was a technique his grandfather had used frequently in the past to great effect and given the Cizerack's simplistic nature, the boy predicted similar results. Of course, never had he required such psychological motivation during his years of training, his discipline was flawless... but Cirrsseeto? Instead he just prattled on about his mother and an upbringing which was quite...

"Singing lessons?"

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr eased his back onto the bench, his tail flopping lazily alongside his right ankle as his thick arms lay out to each side, bouncing lightly to stretch out his pectorals. The question caused him to look up, his ears cocking a bit.

"Long tjime ago, ljittle man. When jI was yourr age jI guess."

Now, focused on his task, Cirr carefully eased his arms up, fingers carefully tracing the length of the bar to find a width that was ideal for him. He found it, and his big fists laced around the bar in a slow and deliberate action, gripping the bar fast. The muscles in his forearms rippled as he kept his sure hold.

His chest heaved in and out a few times as he took big breaths of air in and out, his nostrils flaring as he looked straight ahead. He paused to lick his lips slightly.

"Spot me up on thrree Afterr that, let me go untjil jI can't anymorre."

More deep breaths.

"One...

Two...

Thrree!"

[Abarai Loki]

"Long tjime ago, ljittle man."

"Loki," he corrected, his eyes closed in exasperation.

By the time Cirrsseeto was ready to begin, the hot prickling sensation on the back of his neck had subsided and Loki exhaled, calm. He sensed the barbell, guaging its size and weight with practised speed, it was heavy but as he concentrated, its imposing mass began to fall away and in his mind it diminished, small and intangible. On some level he was also aware of the compressed energy now gathered about it and when Cirrsseeto lifted, it was weightless. Slowly, he removed the telekinetic pressure from the barbell, watching the Cizerack compensate for its growing mass, clusters of shoulder and chest muscles bunching up until at last he beared its full weight. Loki folded his arms.

"Now, let us witness the extent of your Cizerack superiority..."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr took the weight, inhaling sharply as he eased the weight downward to his chest. At about two inches away, he began to exert full force, so that the bar thumped against his broad chest just enough to be audible, but the entire apparatus shook as he pressed it up with a sharp exhale of breath.

"hrrm....PSSSSSSHHHH!!!"

The bar and weights rattled again at their zenith, and Cirr eased it back down again, keen to maintain good form, as well as his pace of breathing. Inhale going down, exhale going up.

"hrrrm....PSSSSSSSSHHHHHH!!!"

His tail curled taut, then slapped against the deck as he worked. Lips peeled back exposing his clenched sharp teeth as he bore down for the third rep.

"hhhrrrrrrrRRRRRUUUGHHHH!!!"

The sound coming out of him now was deep and guttural. To those not paying attention, it might have sounded like somebody let a wampa loose in the Whaladon

Cirr continued onward. Four reps. Five. Six. He began to slow down.

[Abarai Loki]

"Your form is faltering. I should hope that after all that racket you can at least make it to ten."

Although he sounded terribly bored, Loki's eyes were fixed on Cirrsseeto, studying his exertions with the barbell. He felt it rise and fall in time with the Cizerak's hissing breath and was ready to relieve him in an instant. From the edges of the cargo hold spectators watched, distracted from their normal affairs, and fascinated by the spectacle. Another rep, then another, and the arms started to tremble.

"Push past the pain, Cirr. Focus on your goal."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr could feel himself slipping, and his form starting to go. He focused, trying to maintain his rhythm and breathing, but he knew he was losing steam. Another rep went down and up. Then another down....and up. The bar began to shake with his fatigue as he struggled against it. He nearly crested his ninth repetition when there finally wasn't anything there anymore, and the bar started to sink a few inches. He adjusted his breathing for a second push, but he had no rhythm or strength to maintain it. Flushed in the face, he shook his head quickly.

[Abarai Loki]

The barbell became lighter and lighter until it floated in Cirrsseeto's grasp, he then eased it onto the rack without difficulty. Loki swung around the bench, arms folded, as he assessed the performance. He glanced at the great hunks of metal on each end of the bar and nodded.

"You now know your limit and you can build on it. How are you?"

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Despite feeling sapped in his chest and arms, Cirr felt flushed and euphoric from the heavy lifting. He panted a few times, collected his breath, shook his head, sat up, and bounced up to his feet, bouncing a few more times to shed the adrenaline.

"That...was...grreat!!!"

Somebody once said the journey of a thousand miles began with a single step, and it was always true with getting back into working out. Cirr was immensely glad to get his first reps in.

"Now you! Come on!"

[Abarai Loki]

Taking a step away from the large bouncing felinoid, Loki tilted his head, first to look at the sweaty bench, and then to stare up at Cirrsseeto once more. His eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"I beg your pardon?"

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr looked at Loki with confusion. What part of this whole thing had he been unclear about.

"Worrk out? You'rre the age jI was when jI starrted. jIt's a healthy thjing to do."

He appraisingly enveloped a hand around Loki's decidedly small right arm.

"Wouldn't a Jedji also want to get strrongerr?"

[Abarai Loki]

For a moment, his narrowed gaze lingered upon Cirrsseeto, looking for a hint of something which betrayed his intentions. He looked as cheerful and enthusiastic as ever, and that hand wrapped around his arm so easily. Loki frowned.

"Very well."

Retreating to a pyramid of crates stacked against the wall, he removed his family haori and folded it into a perfect square before placing it on top of a crate of grain. Then he returned to Cirrsseeto and circled the bench once before turning back to him. His eyes scanned him from top to bottom, taking in his impressive bulk, then crept over to the barbell.

"Perhaps, to begin with, my workload should be somewhat... a little... something more befitting a... novice."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

"Surre. Let me thjink...forr a human yourr age...we'll starrt wjith the barr and go frrom therre."

Cirr's guess was partially grounded in estimation of age, but also grounded in his assumption that humans in general were a bunch of weak pinkies.

Happy that his young friend was receptive to the notion, Cirr worked to manually remove the plates. It might be slower for a non force user, but it was reciprocation of a common courtesy. After he was done, he took his shirt and wiped down the bench to clear it of his sweat.

[Abarai Loki]

"The bar..."

The quiet tone in his voice was one of controlled and completely understated outrage. His burning eyes were fixed upon the contemptuous piece of metal suspended gingerly above the bench. Once the cleaning was done, he sat, then lied down. Again, he saw the length of durasteel, this time hanging overhead. Cirrsseeto nodded at him with big honest eyes and flopping ears. Loki opened his mouth to speak, sighed, then picked a spot on the ceiling. His hands wrapped around the cold metal, lifted, dropped stiffly, holding it in place close to his chest, still staring mutinously at that spot on the ceiling, then lifted and racked it.

"I think I can handle the bar."