| With Training Like This… |
| Summary: | …who needs Cylons? Lysander and Vandenberg discuss ideas. |
| Date: | 13 October 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | None |
| Players: |
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| Shooting Range |
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| This nearly soundproof room has ten shooting booths in a straight line that face the target field. The ranges move out to thirty yards, each booth using its own track to take targets out to the desired distance vial a simple dial at the booth. Behind the firing line is a long bench that runs the width of the room where crewmembers can load magazines and compare targets. At one end is a huge stack of paper targets that has either Cylons or a few different types of human targets on them. A large sign hangs from the ceiling that details out the rules such as wearing eye and ear protection and watching where weapons are pointed at all times. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #229 |
Boom! Lysander lowers his firearm in order to gauge where he had just hit on the cylon-like target in the distance. Down range and now missing its left cheek, the papery version of the Centurian continues to stand there waiting for further punishment. The marine raises the large caliber handgun and aims before dropping back down and exhaling. He doesn't bother with another shot and instead releases the magazine, sets it aside, and then switches over the safety while setting it down. Late night target practice, fun; having too much to think about, however, is not quite as exhilarating. He removes his protective eyewear as he reaches aside in order to have the target drawn up and to him.
The inner hatch to the firing range swings open, the new entrant already wearing hearing protection. This time, though, Vandenberg is sporting her offduty garb. No pins or other such decorations. She leaves the clear plastic frames on as she sidles up next to him to lean on the divider. "Hey Sergeant. Got a few minutes? Figured I would bother you over anyone else. Unless.." She glances up to him from the target. "'less you need a few minutes on your own? Got somethin on your mind?"
Lysander doesn't readily notice someone near to him but that's merely devotion to his thoughts, which he is now pushing aside, in order to stiffly smile to Vandenberg. There's a brief once over and then he glances over towards his target. "Nah, I'm fine. This just happens to be one of my ways of thinking," meditating, judging, etcetera, the man trails off and takes a step back. He turns to face her, leaning back on the opposite divider while folding his arms over his chest. "What's up?"
"Ha! Yeah I know the feeling. I blame it on the controlled breathing. Calms the soul." Vandenberg looks to his target absently, not terribly concerned with where his rounds landed. Just admiring the design of the target. "So. I got assigned. The Major gave me Able. Also tasked me with Company S3 duties." She looks back to him. "Being as fresh off a rescue as I am, I wanted to get the input of someone who has been aboard longer than me. What needs doing? Specifically training. Any ideas?"
"Yeah, was a marksman in the Fighting Dozenth before all of this. It helps." Lysander makes the comment offhandedly, in passing, mostly because his background in the Corps is easy access and he's just lowly enlisted. Still, there's a spark of a smirk setting to his face and he gives a stiff nod. "Congratulations on your new assignment," and then he falls quiet instead of further interjecting. When she's done speaking up, he replies in turn. "Well, Able gets to learn what Charlie knows, an' vice versa. Dog double-times it in coverin' both areas of expertise, military policing alongside hard combat and field experience. Those're the basics you'll be workin' under. This is all with our regular duties as well."
"No kidding. Good to know I've got someone else who has done something a bit out of the ordinary. Might call on you for help on some things, Sergeant. Appreciate the congrats, too." Van offers him a quick smile. There is pride and maybe even a little squee hidden under the surface. Not than Vandenberg would ever squee. Ahem. "That's what I'm hoping. I can bring my experience to bear for the MP's in Able and pick up some of their more honed skills on my own. I heard about some Sergeant up for promotion who is handling Dog also. Apparently he's seen a lot of action. Looking forward to meeting him, too. But seeing as my duties with S3 have me in operations, I want your opinion on training. Not being organic, you have a different perspective to how these leathernecks have been operating. What kind of training needs doing? Got any ideas on your own for something to run?"
Lysander looks back up. He could almost sense a squee, almost. The man chalks it up to something along the lines of wishful thinking and turns in order to return to the range and cast his gaze down the empty lane. He listens. It's something he's good at. "I'll take a guess at that being Constin," with regards to the other Sergeant, and he lifts his shoulders into a loose shrug. He picks up the pistol but holds it loosely, barrel still near to the surface of the counter before him. "Like Dec said at our latest briefing, I'm all for more MOUT training since our first priorities is the security of this ship an' the rest of the fleet, whether that's civilian riot, mutiny, or trigger-happy tin-cans. Helps that we're all riflemen, but," he glances over towards Vandenberg with another shrug, "Lack of real engagements planet-side should be taken advantage of. We've got entire continents' worth of ground and a lack of threats that lets us cover any specialized training: AIT a'plenty."
"Aye. Sergeant Constin. I'll run his ass down eventually." Vandenberg steps back a bit so she isn't crowding him on the range. Arms crossed while her absent gaze travels between the gun and the target. "Yeah, that is sort of a concern of mine. A Rifle Platoon's biggest worry should be combat training, not..what did the JG ask about? Plants?" The LT shakes her head, a little perplexed by that obviously. "I was thinking along similar lines, though, Sergeant. We've got a boring colony with a variety of terrain and a fairly mild climate. My men I lugged up have got plenty of experience down there I'm just unsure what all is needed. I guess the battlegroup has already been to Sagittaron so I'm just curious exactly how much ground training is needed. But 'Dec' does have a point. We know our primary concerns and should focus our maximum effort there. The damned trick is going to be balancing it. So what say you?"
"I hear it's a brainchild of hers, an' barrin' that she could have a healthy supply of chamalla floating around. Either way, as strange as the inquiry was, I won't hold it against her: people are frakkin' weird nowadays," because before then they weren't, possibly but highly doubtful, but Sergeant Lysander goes back to testing the unloaded weight of the handgun in his right hand. "Well," he inclines his head in her direction with a light smile, "We don't know when we're leaving, and we always have the resources on-board to finish off any Em-Pee training an' MOUTs. We don't know where we're going, yet." He looks back forward. "I say we abuse the situation as much as possible, reap the benefits of a peaceful planet, an' I must say I've always been interested in blowing shit up and jumping out of Raptors at high orbit."
Van listens to the explanation for Lunair's concerns and eventually shrugs. "Guess so. Met a guy on Aerilon who was still concerned about his flower garden and the effects of radiation." She lets off a light sigh. The rest, though, is something she seems to pay attention to, if not surprising her a little. "High orbit Raptors? I understand the want and need for explosives training. That's always good and hard to really appreciate on a ship. We can arrange something. Maybe do a few minefield drills or threat detection exercises. What's this about jumping out of a Raptor, though?"
Lysander slips on his eyewear protection and pushes the orange lenses further up the bridge of his noise with the middle finger of his off-hand. He gives a nod of his head before replying in turn. "I hear some of the personnel have done one before, without much certification, but a free-fall form of insertion has its places. I only say it especially now because other planets are now even more heavily occupied." He begins to reload the handgun and while doing that turns his head in order to look at Vandenberg for her response.
"Get the frak out," she chuckles. Oh- wait. No, Lysander is being serious. That smile fades. "This ship has run airborne drops?" Its not meant to be answered. Just a rhetorical question while her brain tries to reboot. "Considering the situation, yeah. I'd say they definitely have their places." Vandenberg blinks a few times and looks back up to the man. "If an extraction operation could be mounted, you think it might be more than viable? If so, I gotta ask why they haven't been practiced on Aerilon. I know some perfect sites for landing. …Where was this done? When?"
Lysander flashes a nice, charming grin at that laugh and then directs his focus back forward. With a lift of his chin, he goes to watch the target cylon be placed back down the range while he listens to the Lieutenant speak up in response. After a nod, he briefly interjects with, "Some rescue op' on Leonis, so before my time." He further pauses and rubs his jaw offhandedly before adding. "No idea on why not, but I take it with all of the sudden lack of fighting that they're more than willing to live a little. Doubt'll last long though. We can always go through the differences in warfare with varying terrain, an' since we're the underdogs… well, hit-and-run'd be a nice venture, yeah?"
Natalie offers a soft grunt in reply to the location. "That place. Heard nothing but bad about it. Must have been desperate." She lifts her arms, lacing her fingers behind her neck to hang her elbows. "Lack of fighting means something. Nobody will tell me what happened to change things. But I'm inclined to keep preparing to fight. If its been quiet on Aerilon as long as it has here, people have earned some downtime. But letting our guard down and relaxing is definitely the last thing to do." She leans back on her hips, the whole movement looking like she's stretching her back. A few cracking sounds later, she rises back to look at him. "What if we practiced one of these jumps? We tell people to take a full combat loading for it. Then when they land, we meet them with an opposing force. Spend five days or so on Aerilon on conducting guerilla warfare training. Shoot and scoot. Firing from concealment - something you'd be better with than I. How to spot traps. That kind of junk. After the jump, people run what they brung. Sound like something you might be interested in helping me out with?"
Lysander makes a face as he thinks off the colonies as a whole, brought on by what he's heard of Leonis. He wrinkles his brow thoughtfully but the expression softens when she moves about out of the peripheral of his gaze. He glances to the stretching and then looks back forward with a last minute once-over of the handgun. It's held loosely while he aims with none of his fingers bothering to touch the trigger; instead, one of his confident, half-smirks appears. "Sounds like you want to do some war games down there," he looks at her, "I'm in - sir."
"War games, training, whatever people want to call it. We load them up with some of these paint rounds you all use on the MOUT range and ambush them when they land. Hell, we can drop them into an empty LZ and see how they react when nobody shows up for them." The Lieutenant's smile is a little feral. But only a little. "Appreciated, though. I'll pitch it up the chain. You help me out with this, I'll hit you back. You want help setting up something here on the boat, or anywhere else, I'm your woman. Anything cracking your skull that we can plan deep for?"
"Sounds like we've got a plan," idly offers the Sergeant with an offhanded tone. He exhales and lowers the handgun rather than go about shooting at the target, second-guessing himself into hesitation and then looking back aside to the Lieutenant. "I-," there's something sarcastic or otherwise informal that's about to be mentioned and he bites his tongue instead of comment. He smiles. It helps him to avoid responding to her being his woman. "We haven't ran a large-scale MOUT in a while, I don't think. I was thinking of doing that, set up at least a squad against another. Don't much matter from what platoon, an' can always hodge-podge the groups to have them work with new faces."
"I…what, Sergeant?" she challenges with a quirked brow. At least there's hints of a smile on her face. Hard to tell if she would have laughed or decked him. She doesn't let it linger, though. Vandenberg plows right ahead. "Fair enough. My men I brought aboard haven't had a proper MOUT exercise in some time. Most of our experiences was literally in a field. Or woodlines. Some small town stuff but the Cylons never bothered to clear a building. They'd just shoot the damned thing full of holes til it collapsed." Her arms cross and she steps away, eyes turned towards the ground while she thinks. "Got a particular scenario in mind? Flat force on force? Hostage rescue? Escaped suspect?"
"Oh, nothing at all, Lieutenant," is murmured quietly by the Sergeant and with that he easily clams further up against maybe-maybe not having to say something. It also leads into his idea and she seems appreciable enough about it for him to continue along this new avenue of the conversation. "Guess I'm glad none of the buildings fell on top of y'all," offers Garret in turn. There's a moment though where he simply stands there and a thoughtful murmur comes up from the bottom of his throat. He clears it. "How about giving them objectives depending on the scenario? Some variant of capture the flag for potential vital information, force on force since we know Cylons enjoy the genocide in things, hostage rescue sounds nice, an' hunting down escapees looks good. So long as things are kept dynamic, it doesn't mean we have to be frakkin' original."
"Who said none of the buildings came down on us," she offers up quietly, daring a bit. Vandenberg has probably done a lot of really dumb stuff in her life. Probably by the grace of the Gods that she is still alive. Or an amazing streak of blind luck. "That sounds like a pretty good idea, though. Keep it dynamic. Hell, you could start with a hostage rescue, force it to go wrong and kill the hostage, then make it capture the flag. Missions aren't always going to go the way you want. We can force the Marines to cope with changing objectives on the fly. Tell them afterwards that no matter what, the hostage was dead. Good thinkin." The LT drums her fingers across the other elbow. "Hell, if we do an escaped convict, we could just bring a squad in here at a time. Tag one of them, give them a four minute headstart and let them run the ship. No heads up to the search party. Might be fun." She finally looks back to him with a grin.
"But did they kill you?" This time, Lysander fancies himself the challenger and he unloads the handgun and sets it down. It's a seamless, trained set of movements that has him ignore the target down range and focus on Vandenberg. He turns in place and eases his left side into the counter while crossing his arms over the breadth of his chest, listening to her without the distractions of multi-tasking. He's even facing her again. "The only problem is, you know, safety first an' making sure anything mock isn't taken too seriously." There's a pause and slow nod, "So, like I said, some people are a bit of a fanatic an' maybe unhinged. A sudden change in objectives is easily workable though."
"Nah. Building starts coming down around you? Typically the intelligent thing is to get out. Or get under something load-bearing like a central wall. Or a staircase. Same thing with fighting in tunnels." Vandenberg's little smile just hangs out like a lazy pilot, sprawled on her face hapahazardly. "I don't know exactly -how- it oculd be dine, but I would assume there is a way to inform the crew about an exercise. Give the 'escapee' a bright green shirt so people know who he or she is and whats up." She shrugs. "But yeah, we'll set something up. You want me to pitch all this to the Major and run with it? An one thing?" The LT inclines her head towards Lysander. "I give credit where its due. I got no patience for glory hunters or creditpullers. My guilty pleasure is finding those people and demoting them. I'll make sure the CO knows who is giving up what ideas if you want me to go to bat for it. Sound like a deal?"
Sergeant Lysander grins in turn. It's an appreciative and good-natured one. He nods though, his only concern being the constant security and safety of things. Where there's a will, there's a way, and he figures the two of them alone can come up with enough ways as to avoid some form of catastrophe. "I'll let you do the honors," he's fine with her pitching. The marine lifts his brows and refocuses his attention when she goes to add more. The corners of his mouth tighten his expression into a short-lived smirk. "I'm likin' you more an' more, Sir. That's perfectly all right with me."
Vandenberg dips her head. "Just who I am. Push, shove, and kill to get credit where its due. There's no place for people who can't swim anymore. The people with the initiative and ideas ought to be recognized for their contributions, Sergeant. I expect the same thing of everyone else. You see someone trying to shovel that horseshit, let me know so I can keep a hairy eyeball on them." She glances back towards the target and back up towards him. "I'll get it taken care of. Talk to the Major and hunt down the CAG. See if we can get a couple Raptors for jump training. You need anything from me before I leave you to your meditation?"
"Will do," is offered in turn by the man and he gives an upwards nod to her words as a whole. That smile of his lingers on his face too and he's not partial to getting rid of it just yet. When she glances over, he looks to the side as well but it's just a passive thing. Lysander shifts his weight against the counter and adjusts his forearms in the process, closing his eyes momentarily. "I think I'm good, for now, yeah. I'll work on the potential plans," he nods his head once more and opens his eyes, holding out his right hand to her, "And if you ever want, I don't always meditate by myself. So you're welcome to join me."
"I might take you up on that. I'm not above getting pointers. I'm not a bad shot but I'm also not the best. I'll let you know, though. I gotta catch up on files and operations history for now." Vandenberg holds out her hand like a gun and 'shoots' it at him with a click of her teeth. "Keep it up, Sergeant. Thanks for the help and ideas. I'll get back to you as soon as I know something." A single step back before she turns to push back through the hatch and exit the range.