| Lampridis Briefing |
| Summary: | Vandenberg delivers a briefing on Operation Saratoga. |
| Date: | 15 May 2042 AE |
| Related Logs: | Ungodly amounts of logs lead up to this. |
| Players: |
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| Ready Room |
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| With the hatches at the rear of the room, the walkways on both sides slope down towards the dais at the front of the room. The stadium seating forms a partial semi-circle around the speaking podium and provides enough seats for all three hundred members of the Air Wing. The walls are adorned with the patches of each squadron aboard and their mottos stenciled in white lettering above each one. Behind the podium is a set of large LCD screens that can display any matter of material from reconnaissance to maps to gun camera footage. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #443 |
The pilot's Ready Room, just a little bit before the briefing is set to begin, has a few people milling around. A couple pilots to the side and Captain Vandenberg is up front on the dais at the podium. She seems to be reviewing something with her head down, mouthing something. The woman is in her full dress blues with her hair pulled back into a tight bun. Rather than practicality, Natalie appears to be going for fully professional. The lights are already a little low but not distractingly so.
Through the door steps the rugged form of Sergeant Ciro Sondray. With only a black coffee mug emblazoned with the Battlestar Cerberus crest on it in his hand, he steps down the row of chairs, picking his placement. A small glance is offered to the pilots before he turns into the front row. He picks one of the open chairs near the edge of the row, and seats himself. The mug of tea is placed down and he reaches into his pocket for a small, octagonal notebook and a pen.
Constin enters the room moments after Ciro in his duty tans and garrison cap. A short pass of his narrowed eyes around the barely familiar room, and the big marine is turning his booted steps through the largely empty large room to choose a seat on the same row as the mohawked marine, with a vacant space allowed between them. "Sondray," he mutters in greeting.
The spiffed Marine Captain looks up to the two entrants and nods. "Sondray. Constin. Glad to see you're here early." She reaches up to the stand of the podium and takes off a few cards. They're walked out to each enlisted. "Review these for your own assent." They're the individual position assignments for the recon. "Also, if either of you need pen and paper I suggest getting it now. We'll have eyes-only material for review that will not be made available outside this room except to command." Nat's hands fold behind her back.
Ciro's attention is turned towards Constin, raising his mug in the man's direction as a silent, returned greeting. Again, his name is uttered, bringing him to look in the Captain's direction. His head raises in good listening posture as she approaches, and he promptly reaches out to take his card. The mug of tea is brought to his lips as he reads, glancing once more to Natalie over his mug. "Thank you, sir. I'm all set." He sets the card down, and sets his mug to rest partially atop it.
"Captain," Constin grunts in greeting to Vandenberg as Natalie approaches. A caloused left hand reaches to take to offered card, glancing over it briefly. As she mentions pen and paper, he taps the breast pocket of his uniform, where the ever present small notepad is kept. He nods once, mutely to echo Ciro's sentiment of 'all set'.
Vandenberg looks to each in turn for their acceptance. "Good. Guns, work with Sondray here to get our packing list set. I'm going to need to know what all I'm jumping tomorrow if possible. We all need to have our gear packed and ready by zero seven hundred Wednesday." She then looks to Ciro. "Pack what you need for the delta-mikey position. But leave your laser rangefinders at home. We don't know what the Centurions will be able to see and detect."
"Consider it a non-issue, sir, Grandfather Colonial was kind enough to give me everything I need to calculate range with the use of math and a notebook." Ciro says, looking up to Natalie. It shows in his eyes that he's a little surprised to be getting the sniper role in the roster change, and that he's not one bit upset about it. He simply refuses to look smug about it. Though he does open to a page of the notebook, making a note about laser rangefinders and sights. He then turns his head to Constin. "Anywhere in mind that's secure you wanna do that, Gun?"
Constin nods a second time to the instruction, bringing out the previously indicated notepad, as he mutters toward Ciro, "We'll do the packing itself in the armory. Gonna be meeting with a couple secure air wing folk on the flight deck to triple check the 'chute packing." He flips open his own notepook past several filled paged, to query, "What you gonna need past three days rations, munitions, field glasses, first aid materials, camera, note book, a thermal blanket, weapon, sidearm, jump knife, and the radio?"
Vandenberg nods once to Ciro in a firm gesture. "Fair enough. Plan for having to potentially take shots from a height of four to six hundred feet at ranges beyond seven hundred yards." Tough, no doubt. She then looks to Constin and takes a long breath while she thinks. "NVG's. I can truck one of the survival radios because its compact. I'll let you decide who has the weight to spare for the 'secure' radio. Just packmule me as you need to." Natalie knows she's the smallest and that responsibility falls to her. "Just try not to exceed two-fifty. I can jump more than that but I tested it out in the MOUT room.. I can't land more than that safely given the terrain." She'll probably be on her rear anyway.
"Three cased pencils, rad disk, anti-rad pills, and anything we can use to decontaminate water if this goes long." Ciro replies flatly, his own pen chicken-scratching a few short-handed notes on the paper. He nods in agreement with Vandenberg as the shopping lists are created. "Captain, if you've got any weather data from down there for this time of year that'd be great too. If I'm shooing that far I'd like to get an idea of what I can expect along the lines of wind, rain, humidity…"
Decumius is early to the party. At least, he thought he was - though he doesn't look particularly surprised to find the mission commander, mission second in command and the sniper here before him. He smiles broadly. "Afternoon." He greets.
Constin drawls a short, "Uh-huh," to Vandenberg. "Was running with double the body weight as a rule of thumb for max packing. Don't want your ankle going when we hit dirt, yeah?" A drawn breath. "Lagana's on the light side too, alotting her some extra weight." As Ciro rattles off more necessities, Constin scribbles them down. "We got iodine tabs for the water, already part of the rations. Don't get scared when you start pissing purple, is all." Decumius' arrival is met with a glance up and short nod. "Corporal."
Ciro looks up from his seat in the first row, seated with a few chairs between himself and Gunnery Sergeant Constin. They're both writing in their notebooks on the small school-desk space that they're provided, speaking with Captain Vandenberg. Hearing the familiar voice, Ciro raises his head and lifts his left arm, offering a fresh pair of knuckles to press against Decumius'. It's a bit of Sagittaron war-bonded camaraderie. "What, pissing purple isn't normal?" Ciro smirks, making a quiet joke. "I'm gonna have stop going to Pete's."
Vandenberg looks to Ciro. "We're jumping into summertime. It'll be hot during the days. Probably highs around ninety-five would be my best guess based on the past weather data we have - but the nukes might have screwed up weather patterns. Based on this old data, though, the winds should be to out backs and diving into the valley below. Fairly light. Its decently dry and arid but at night the wind shifts out of the north and brings the humidity from the falls. My bet is that it will get chilly over night but I can't say for sure. Previous lows put it in the fifties." But that's arid desert environs for you. She then looks to Constin and chuckles. "No way will I attempt to land standing. Too much gear. I'm just planning to collapse. As far as Lagana, I'm instructing her to bring extra medical gear as she see's fit to double up on. Make sure you talk to her before going crazy with it, Guns." Seeing Decumius enter, the Captain nods once to him.
"Better than dripping purple, asshole. And I bet you'd know more than a bit about that, too." Decumius returns the fistbump, his smile staying in place. "I'm a frakking mule, Gunny. Once we're all down there, you can load me up. I used to train with the guys going for Operator selection, even though I didn't ever wanna go. So feel free to add rats or more water to my load."
More notes, now on the subject of the weather, are jotted down into Ciro's notebook with a specific interest on detail. He rests his pen over the paper and reaches to take up his mug of tea, lifting it off of the small position assignment card that was resting underneath. He sips from the mug, setting it back down again. "Two oh-six, Gunny." Ciro rattles off. He's been seen working out all over the decks of the Cerberus for the last few months, and the detail is something he checks regularly.
The Captain nods to Constin nad looks to the others. "If you cod hangers think I'm humping twice my body weight over that terrain, you're insane. Oh, speaking of which.." Natalie focuses on Elf. "I'm bringing climbing gear. Two harnesses, carabiners, and around three hundred feet of rope." Two fifty meter lengths. "That's an extra twenty-five onto my bodyweight and standard gear loading. We will distribute it once we're on the ground but I'll jump it."
"I've been doing a lot of forced marching, as much as can be done in the ship, in the last couple of months. But lots of weighted plyo too. I'm up to around one ninety five." Decumius nods at Constin, but points out, "Yeah, but not everyone is as strong a rucker as everyone else, Gunny. Especially if we're legging it for twelve, fourteen hours. I can just go, it's something I've always been able to do, lucky."
Constin frowns and grunts at Natalie's notation of climbing gear. He draws a breath to inquire, but as she provides the weight of said 'extra gear' he keeps quiet and scribbles down the figure. "Shit, this is gonna be tight." A breath let out through flared nostrils, as he notes, "Provided we can load spare munitions onto Lagana, should work, though." Eyeing Ciro and Decumius, he notes, "Max allowance for the jump harness is three hundred. Which means I cant carry much on the way down. For the second time, I aint sweating who's gonna lug this shit once we're dirtside, its only the jump down that I'm worried on." Given that Constin tips the scales at 240 in nothing but a scowl, the big man's difficulties should be plain.
Ciro's fingers snap as Vandenberg speaks, nodding his head in approval. The idea seems great to him, again he starts to touch his pen to the paper, scratching away. "Mark me down for that, too. I quall'd mountainous after Sag-War. It's more weight but the terrain supports the need." He looks up, glancing over his shoulder to the small numbers in the room and then to the clock. There's a half-hour to go, and these things usually pile on the bodies all within the last five minutes of the briefing. "Are we going to need another chute for a gear-drop?"
"I spent my career rucking at high altitude." Above seven thousand. "Also grew up in the mountains. I can haul about sixty pounds at low altitude without an issue - provided we take a break every few hours." Short legs means she's going ot have to take three steps for every two they do. Whew. Natalie checks the clock on the wall and looks back. "No. No extra gear will be dropped. There's no time. We jump what we got." She takes a step back and moves for the podium.
"I'm good to go for mountain ops too." Decumius smiles again, nodding confidently at the members of the team. He appears pleased that everyone is experienced and tough.
"Plain ironic, this is: the three newcomers are the real frakking goats, while the only original Mountaineer ain't used to aught but digging UNDER the damn things," Constin mutters with a tight grin, invoking the nickname of the 1/9th. "Decumius, anything you can think you gonna need dirtside?"
Ciro snorts, flitting a glance in Vandenberg's direction when Elf makes the joke. The snort causes a ripple in the tea that's inside of the mug. He grins over the rim of his mug and then goes back to his writing. He's seated in the front row with a few chairs between himself and Gunnery Sergeant Constin. Standing near them is Corporal Decumius, and Captain Vandenberg has started to step back to the podium. The briefing is soon to begin. "What's Lagana getting loaded out with? Sidearm or something heavier?"
Vandenberg is in her duty blues, hair pulled back in a tight bun behind her head. She's standing at the podium, watching the Marines in front of her go back and forth. "Ain't my fault you're a puny little man, Gunnery Sergeant. I've seen more durability on a mine cart." Ha! She allows herself a short smirk before returning neutral. "Anyone who doesn't have experience with mountain warfare, I'm expecting the three of us-" Vandenberg looks to Decumius and Ciro, "to help the others out. We jump together, we fight together, we survive together. Nobody gets left behind, oorah?" She glances to Elf with the question from Ciro. "I was going to suggest a folding stock GMAR with a holographic sight. Nothing fancy. She'll have enough weight on her medical gear. Buut.." He's jumpmaster. Not Van.
"Proper camera equipment's been drawn from stores, and that's usually my thing. I got good supplies for hand drawing or taking notes should any of the electronic stuff fail." Decumius ponders, scratching his head. "No, should be good, Gunny. Everything's been seen to I believe." He nods at Vandenberg, chin raising up a little bit. "Oorah, sir." He means it. "And knowing this kinda mission, anyone jumping without a long arm is wrong. That's just my opinion. Marine ain't anything without a rifle and all. Or machinegun." He nods at Constin.
"Rifle, definitely," Constin mutters, nodding to Vandenberg's estimation. The short stock and holographic sight earn the simple approval, "Sounds good." Decumius' answer is met with a nod, and the Gunnery Sergeant flips his notebook closed. That takes care of his logistical questions. "Oorah," he echoes evenly, with a curt nod to the prevailing sentiment.
Wearing his duty blues, Wade steps into the Ready Room. For a moment, he looks around to see all the faces already here and only after a nod "Afternoon" he makes his way through the short stairs, heading towards the top seats. With him, he carries a notebook and a pencil, one that he opens as soon as he takes a seat. The Viper pilot is just here to take notes, and that he will, yup. He sits back and opens his notebook, clicking his pen afterwards but not taking notes yet.
"Oo-rah." Ciro replies to Vandenberg, nodding his head some more. Setting his pen down, he stretches his legs out before him and then brings them in with the folding of his arms across his muscular chest. The mission is getting put together very, very quickly, but the preparations are coming with well practiced ease. The organization feels good. The greeting of a newcomer comes sailing over his head, forcing him to lift his mohawked head to look in Wade's direction. A nod is offered. "Sir."
Like the pilot stepping into the room, and just behind him in fact, Madilyn enters the room and takes a seat near the back. The briefing is intended mostly for the personnel hand-picked, the details already known and approved, so Madilyn is there to take notes and observe primarily. This operation is Vandy's baby, through and through.
More people start filing in after Wade. Pilots mostly. The other Marines participating. Vandenberg watches them and flits her eyes to Wade. She dips her head to him. "Lieutenant," comes the easy greeting before her eyes fall back to the group. "We'll talk more on firearms after the briefing. We need to hit a few points on those that aren't a matter of brief to everyone else." As Madilyn enters through the groups, Vandenberg stands straight behind the podium. "Colonel on Deck," she calls for everyone to come to attention.
Cidra slips in not far behind Madilyn, heading toward the back to take a seat near her and Wade, so she can observe the proceedings. Though she does not sit as attention it called, waiting for that business to get done with.
At the mention of the Colonel being on deck, Ciro stops everything he's doing and rises from his seat. Standing at attention, he locks his eyes forward to the front of the room as protocol dictates. The officer is on deck. It's time to shut up.
Constin goes to his feet at Vandenberg's call of 'Colonel on Deck', coming instinctively to attention with the words as first one, then the other of the ship's two Light Colonels enters the ready room.
Decumius wasn't doing much to begin with. His heels snap together and his arms are checked at his side as Madilyn enters. He stares forward.
"At ease, everyone. Please, continue your conversations or start the briefings as you see fit. I'm here to observe, take notes, and as questions as appropriate. This is your operation now, Captain," Madilyn replies to Vandenberg. To reinforce that sentiment, she even motions for the people that have leapt to their feet to have a seat once more.
"Quite, as you were," Cidra echoes Madilyn, in case the flight officers in the room require further encouragement. That done, she will sit.
Wade also stands up, leaving his notebook on the chair. He offers a salute to both Cidra and Madilyn and then moves his hands behind his back. "Toast…" offers the Viper Pilot to Cidra and then a nod to Madilyn. He turns around, takes his notebook again and sits down, resuming what he was doing before.
The Marine Captain at the podium shoots her eyes to Madilyn and gives her a stern nod. "Thank you, sir." She then looks to Cidra and gives the same gesture. "Sir." The same stern greeting. The normally hyper and driven Dog Platoon Commander seems much more calm, even centered. "We'll hold conversation until the end, if it pleases the Colonels." Maybe even standing a little taller on her whole five feet, two inches. She points a finger at a Marine standing by the hatch. "Lance Corporal, secure the hatches please. Let's begin." The man does as instructed and takes up a guard position by the doors before Vandenberg takes up a remote and a breath, moving on with this.
<OOC> Vandenberg says, "Okay, this is where the posted OPORD picks up. If you havent read it already, it is available here. http://battlestarcerberus.wikidot.com/gemenon-opord"
Constin's eyes narrow habitually on the screen as Vandenberg moves through the mission briefing. From the landing zones, to the lakes, to the crucial codewords. As the diminuative Captain emphasizes the risks, Elf's expression doesn't alter, nor does he immediately offer a question.
Turning his head to see that both Colonels Willows-Cavanaugh and Hahn have arrived, Ciro scans what he needs to about them and then lowers himself back into his chair as the Lance Corporal secures the room. His pen is picked up and his eyes go to the front of the room, watching the display. The pen scratches out vague notes, listening intently. He leans forward, taking a close look at the Recon photo of the Cylons playing openly with the children. Ciro's hand rises, a question prepared.
Decumius takes profuse notes on his small message pad as the briefing rolls on. He looks thoughtful, and writes down something in large letters with a question mark. However, the Marine Corporal is going to wait for the end of the briefing and any other questions before he asks his. He looks over at Ciro, interested.
Vandenberg stands with her hands folded at the front of the room, just in front of the first row of chairs. She looks over the group in silence, waiting. As Ciro's hand comes up, she nods to him. "Sondray, go. No need to be formal about this. Let's get a discussion going. I want communication here, not restrained concerns or lingering doubts." The rest is said more to the group as a whole.
Cidra is likewise quiet during the briefing, taking down a few notes on her own packet she's brought, though she does not scribble too furiously. She had a part in approving the plan, after all, so the details aren't unknown. The photograph of the Centurions playing with human children draws a thin frown from her, though she tries to keep her expression moderated.
"You said that the potential non-coms and Cylons are begging for our help? What's the nature of their request, and do we know if any of them are armed?" Ciro's chin tilts upwards to the podium as he asks his question, eyes forward.
Wade is actually taking quite a few notes, plus he's drawing a map and comparing things with the pictures at hand. The man remains in silence and he doesn't even realize that someone lifted a hand. When he hears Vandenberg, he looks up for a moment and narrows his eyes, however, his attention goes back to his notes and he starts drawing a few things and running numbers.
A silent sentinel in the far rear of the ready room, the raptor lieutenant seems to have settled in comfortably enough for the briefing, her little handheld PDA on top of the empty seat behind her, recording away. It's not that Leyla isn't attentive, or focused, but why take a chance on scribbling down the wrong information, when you can get everything exactly as it came out?
Vandenberg returns her focus to Ciro. "The Cylons sent us two transmission packets. Two, I believe?" Vandenberg looks to Cidra as if to confirm the number. Her eyes then fall back to the Sergeant. "The first was an operatic song that contained the specific plea for help given by a non-combatant? Even a pascifist? From what I understand of the decoding process and what took place with it, this was not some accidental piece transferred away. The second comes from video delievered to our mission to Lampridis with a Raptor. The Raiders or something deposited a video feed onto our Raptor's systems that was actually a clip of the people on the ground asking for our assistance as well as showing some interesting carvings in the caves down there." She takes a breath. "Finally, we have the visit of Sawyer Averies and Tyr Bannik to the town where they made similar requests to them before returning them to the fleet." Its not worded carefully. Just plainly. There is no inference to anyone's status. "Would anyone care to clarify that?"
Constin raises his voice to add evenly, "It is known that several among the non-combatant populace are of a religious character, and present intel indicates that a Priest of Aphrodite by the name of Solon has been represented as acting in a nominal leadership role. this individual also made a verbal appeal for help in the second transmission, as well as interacting with Averies and Bannik." His tone of voice is kept wooden throughout the report.
"But just 'help', right? No specific requests?" Ciro clarifies his question, motioning to the recon photo with his pen. "I'm assuming the Cylon hardshells are armed, but no sight of small arms in any of the visuals?" His lip tugs into a smirk at the mention of a priest of Aphrodite, carefully deciding to not speak the thought that runs through his mind. A small 'hrmm' escapes his lips, though, noting that he finds the possible lack of specifics to be suspicious.
Once Ciro's question's been answered, Decumius pipes up. "Sir, briefing says we're here to protect any civilians. I imagine that includes extricating them from any situations where the Cylons aren't behaving in a particularly nice way? Just want to make sure before the rifle comes up and the safety flicks off, sir." He pauses a moment and adds, "These seem kind of like fairly religious folks who might not have the best idea what's good for them or not."
Ciro's head rises and then lowers, repeating the process in a picture of definite agreement.
From the back of the room, Madilyn scribbles a few notes here and there. Those names and several arrows connecting them on the page are laid out, with the codewords already taking up their own whole page. "You'll have to be more specific in your definition of 'nice,' Corporal," Madilyn replies to Decumius. Recall, the ROE is Yellow-Hold…so if you're shooting, you'd better be running and already taking fire."
"Copy that, Sergeant. They're just looking for our generic assistance. They've made no specific request. Nothing for medical, nutritional, or military support. Though the message via opera seems to indicate to me, personally, that they might be interested in protection. Whether or not this means there is a defined political and military rift in the Cylons is a better question for fleet intelligence. I'm sorry I don't have a better answer than that. As for the Centurions, yes. We assume them to be armed at all times - as they would likely expect Marines to be. No direct reports of firearms that I've seen, no." The Captain holds her own reply while Madilyn gives her own. She folds her hands behind her back, face holding its same stoic expression. "The Lieutenant Colonel is exactly right. Our profession is peace and protection, but if these people are being held against their will the six of us are not going to rescue them. Our guidelines are simply to survey and report. Nobody makes contact with any humans or Cylons on this operation unless we have absolutely exhausted all other options or it is unavoidable. If there is a modification either of the Colonels would like to add to this, now would be perfect for it, sirs." Natalie lifts her eyes to the two senior ranking women in the room.
"Roger that." Decumius nods, writing something down next to his previous notes.
"That's exactly it, Captain. Six Marines, outfitted not only for combat but also for survival and air insertion, are hardly going to be able to rescue those civilians even if they should need it. This is a recon mission, boots on the ground to gain more information. It's that information that could lead to a more fully-realized assault, if the need should arise. Evaluate, survey, locate, mark, and most of all observe. You're the eyes and ears that will help determine any further actions of the fists, as it were. I fully agree with Captain Vandenberg on the parameters of this mission," Madilyn adds. No modification on her part, it would seem.
Cidra offers Vandenberg a simple nod of the affirmative. She has no modifications or anything of that sort to add, for her part. Best laid plans are laid and all that.
Leaning back slightly in his chair, Ciro brings the mug of tea to his lips. Before sipping, his head tilts with the Colonel's words. That settles that. Even if the situation is the worst down there, they're not going to be getting involved. Sadly, it's a place he's been to before. Swallowing the leaf-flavored liquid, he sets the mug back down and glances from Constin on his right and Decumius on his left, searching to see if they have any further questions.
Vandenberg listens to Madilyn in silence, eyes on the LCOL. When the Marine CO finishes, the S-Three looks about the room at everyone else present. "Anyone else? Anything at all that might be lingering?" She waits for a pregnant pause, eyes hawking around the room. "Fair enough. We step to the Raptor at seventeen forty-five on eighteen May. I want all Marines to meet on the starboard flight deck at sixteen hundred to gear and arm-up." She takes another moment to look over everyone. "Personal thanks to the Air Wing, particular Lieutenant Aydin from developing these flight profiles and insertion zones - as well as you other Raptor and Viper crews. We'll be looking forward to working with you. Everyone is dismissed at your leisure except my Marines. We need to discuss firepower loadouts.." She lifts a hand from behind her back and crooks a finger to join her up front.
Silent as she began, Leyla rises upon hearing the Captain's dismissal, moving easily into the line of officers making their way out of the room, a hand reaching out to pick up her PDA on the way. Good to be small, as she melds back into the crowd heading back down, likely to the pilot's berths.
Leyla has left.
Wade doesn't interrupt at any moment, he just writes down a few more things, rips the page, folds it and saves it in his chest pocket. When all things are said and done, he just stands up, takes the notebook and walks downstairs, stepping outside the room without saying a single word.
Wade has left.
The typical shuffle of bodies signifies people moving towards the door, prompting Ciro to slip the recon position card from under his mug and into the front breast pocket of his duty shirt along with his notepad. Buttoning the pocket closed, he leaves his tea behind as he rises and steps over to the Captain.
"Clear eyes and steady hands, Captain," is Cidra's simple parting to Vandenberg. And then the CAG, too, will take her leave.
Cidra has left.
Decumius leans back in his seat, crossing his arms. He peers over his shoulder at the departing non marine types, but otherwise waits patiently.
"I leave the specific load outs to you and the gunny," Madilyn says to Vandenberg upon standing. "This is your mission now, as I've said. Whatever equipment you should need, you'll have it." With that, and a small nod, Madilyn takes her notes and makes for the hatch without any of the pomp and circumstance.
Vandenberg nods to Madilyn her way out and to Cidra on her own as well. The Marine Captain stays up front, stepping off towards the front of the room out of earshot while everyone else continues filing out. "Okay gents, we're silent on this. That means we'll be plugging on suppressors on all guns except for Constin's and Sondray's. Decumius, going to be alright if we sling your forty mike mike under the barrel of a full-size GMAR?" Vandenberg looks more conversational about this than strictly proper.
This means that Ciro's going to have a silenced pistol but a very loud, very powerful rifle at his disposal. There's no look of shock on his face as he steps into the huddle, nodding his head softly. "Makes sense." He offers, folding his across his chest, leaning back on one heel.
"Sure, but honestly we should be taking standalones for this, in my opinion, sir. If the poo poo really does hit the rotating cooling device, and we're going to egress quickly, I'd like to be able to put a bunch of rounds down range and act as a proper support grenadier - covering us as we retreat. Besides, the ones you guys have on board are the nifty new ones." Decumius says, grinning broadly at the thought. "Counter defilade firing device, or something like that. Get to laze and set range for cover so they blow people up behind it."
Vandenberg smirks at Decumius. "Which is why I'm putting the AN/PEQ's on all the rifles by Lagana's. Now, we don't know if the Centurions can see laser or IR beams or IR spotlights, so we're going to refrain from turning them on unless we absolutely have to. But I doubt they will see the beam unless its windy as hell at night anyway." She's once-more serious again and the woman looks back to Ciro. "Sergeant, check with Constin. We've got a twenty-four inch barrel on a GMAR we're going to give you. If you can handle it, we've also got a couple of Cavalera M120's in storage." Shoulder-fired 18mm anti-materiel/anti-aircraft guns firing high-explosive antitank rounds. Perfect against Centurions. "You may consider that, but you're only taking one rifle. He'll clear you for it if he thinks you can shoot it, but I'm backing his decision on your allowance for it no matter what."
Ciro brings his hand to the scruff on his chin, considering the options. While using a weapon that would take down Cylons one after another is both exciting and useful, it's also decidedly heavy. "We have no idea whether or not we're looking at just Cylon or cylon-and-human problems down there. I'll go with the 24 GMAR." Ciro decides, nodding his head a few times. "If push comes to shove and we have to go back, though, if I'm putting holes in Cylon hardshells I'm gonna want that Cavalera."
Decumius frowns. "Get us proper AP ammo and it won't be a problem."