Weapons Qualifications

Posted on Sat Oct 1st, 2016 @ 12:28am by Colonel Damian Highsmith M.Eng

Mission: Bad Moon Rising
Location: Armory and Firing Range- Deck 8
Timeline: Mission Day 1, 1315

ON:

Damian had been walking through the corridors on Deck 8 with a clear objective in mind- he needed to stop by the Firing Range to complete a weapons qualification. Over the past year he hadn't had the time to complete a formal course of fire and he felt that if they were going back into combat, he'd need to keep up, especially if he was going to require it of all crew members. Walking inside, he stopped at a desk that extended around the perimeter of the room. Mounted on the bulkheads were a veritable collection of impeccably arranged weapons, everything from combat knives to massive isomagnetic grenade launchers.

Looking around at the heavily adorned walls, Damian waited for the armorer to come out from the range.

Briggs entered into the room and took a quick look around, his tricorder already out of his pocket and in his hand to save time. He'd been called down here and, really, the only reason he could think he'd be called anywhere was because there was some form of mild medical intervention that needed to happen. For the most part nothing life threatening but could require someone to take a look and make a decision to take care of it on the spot or send it higher to medical and the doctors there.

He stopped as he noted all the weapons, his mouth going dry at the idea of so many of them. But he also noticed another person in the room. The tall, fit Terran appeared to be quite a few years older than Briggs, but in no manner into his elder years. He wore a Marine uniform and, trying not to be too noticeable, Briggs only recognized his collar device because of his recent training and travel with the Marines. Rank recognition was drilled into them, especially the Fleeters taking the training with them.

He nearly dropped the tricoder as he stiffened, the straps of his ever present backpack momentarily digging into his shoulders until the weight resettled on the waist strap. "Sir," he said, casting another look around for anybody else in the area, hopefully somebody gushing blood so that it gave Briggs a chance to focus on that instead of the Colonel before him.


Damian turned as he was addressed by a young Petty Officer Third Class wearing medical teal. He was rather young but he appeared to be fit and rather nervous. "Stand easy, Petty Officer. We can't have you passing out on the deck. It could lead to a lot of paperwork for me." Damian joked. Looking the man over, he could see that nothing was out of place and he was obviously prepared with a full field trauma kit wherever he decided to go. Extending his hand, he smiled slightly. "Damian Highsmith. A pleasure to meet you, 'Doc'." he said, using the Marine term for Corpsmen.


Briggs was still frozen in spot for a few more seconds. He was just a lowly enlisted man, a walking bandaid and this was a colonel and the commanding officer. He shouldn't be talking to him, he should be talking to Lieutenant Rose and then it filtered down to him. But...out of somewhere he slipped the tricorder back into his pocket and accepted the hand. "I'm Briggs, sir, but, sir? I ain't no 'Doc'. Ain't earned that," he said, hoping honesty would serve to cover for being a spazz. "Though I'av takin courses that could get me a spot in FMF."

Briggs looked around, pulling the tricorder out and fiddling with it. "I gotta call I gotta come down here, and only reason I can think is somebody needs some patchin'?"

Damian extended his arms and looked himself over with an expression of faux shock upon his face. "Well I think I'm alright for the most part, with the exception of a few loose screws." he joked, smiling at the young corpsman who looked extremely uncomfortable. "If you're looking to get a spot in the FMF, here's a good a place to start as any. You'll need to complete initial qualifications and familiarization on a few weapons if you want to even hope of being assigned to the school, much less an operational battalion."

Briggs looked down at the tricorder as he considered. The Colonel was telling him that if he wanted to do the FMF thing, then he had to go through weapons training? He didn't want to lie to his Ma when he promised her that he wouldn't join a gang and go off harming people. He told that to the Starfleet recruiters and they told it him it was okay, he could go in 'objecting to consiciousness' and that would help keep him away from weapon specific jobs. He suspected that's why he wound up as a corpsman. But...as long as he stayed a corpsman he was learning he could do more good by having the FMF certification and going with the Marines.

Which meant, he'd have to learn to use and then maybe even carry weapons. What was he to do? His promise to his Ma was the last he made to her the last he could ever make to her but...he had years left and how did he want to spend it? And, it's not like shooting at the range was harming anybody. All he needed was the certification, its not like he had to use the weapon. "Understood, sir," he mumbled while he continued to stare at the display of the tricorder as if there was some magic answer to the problem there.

As they talked, Damian could hear the footfalls of a set of boots walk over and stop. As a heavily accented voice spoke out in a Scottish brogue, Damian finally turned so that the voice was within his field of vision. "Excuse me, gents. I hate to interrupt a good conversation but technically you're not supposed to loiter here. So what can I do for you?" the man asked. Damian turned turned to the source of the voice and noted that he was a Marine Chief Warrant Officer Four with a small, gold bursting bomb on the left side of his turtleneck collar which signified that he was an Infantry Weapons Officer- an expert on all weapons that the Marines and Starfleet used.

"Well, Gunner. I'm a little short on my weapons qualifications, so I'll need a course of fire on the Type III and Type I." Glancing at the Corpsman, he spoke up again. "And if HM3 Briggs feels the need, I'm authorizing him to complete the Marine weapons familiarization and qualification course."

"Yes, sir," Briggs said. He didn't have to make the choice now, but if he failed to take the opportunity that was pretty much making the choice by default. It was also closing the door on further opportunities which closed off all those choices. "I, uh, well, sir, I guess so."

Damian nodded. "Well feel free to proceed whenever you want." he said before the Gunner handed him a Type III Phaser.

"Sir, the range is ready for you. I'm sure you know the rules already, so I won't bore you with them." the Gunner said as he motioned to the door that led to the firing range. Walking through, Damian noted that a holoprojection of a desert plain had been set up with humanoid shaped targets at various ranges.

Briggs selected a Type III and a more conventional pistol gripped phaser which could be worn in a drop holster in order to help keep his waist area free for other areas. He strapped it on, quickly, before rushing to follow the Colonel into the firing range. Unease flooded through him as he saw the environment - Trill had notorious issues with heat and the type of histamine inducing bugs that came with it. Not only that, but the targets he used in boot weren't holoprojections of humanoids. More like shadows. But...he swallowed against a dry throat and tried to control his breathing.

The Gunner stood by at the edge of the range, holding a remote in hand. "The range is hot! Commence Fire!" the gunner commanded. Damian immediately brought his rifle up and began firing on the targets, using one, one shot burst per target. Controlling his breathing, he fired at each of the targets center of mass until all 20 were down before they had a chance to move more than 15 feet towards him.

After the final target fell, Damian noticed the range safety light turn red and deactivated his weapon, rising from the ground. Walking over to a small metal table, Damian tightened the sling and set down the rifle upon the table and picked up a Type II phaser. Leaning on the wall behind him, he took a moment to rest.

Standing well back, to make sure to stay out of the way, Briggs watched the Colonel as he went through the course of fire. It reminded him of the Marines he trained with before coming out here, as he prepared to go through FMF. They too took weapons training seriously and they, like the Colonel, showed a proficiency that Briggs never had. Suddenly he didn't want the Colonel or rangemaster around to see him perform.

That nervousness continued, and worsened, as the rangemaster indicated he should take the line and make ready. Briggs put the butt of the rifle to his shoulder, and nodded that he was ready. As ready as he would ever be at any rate.

Once the course started, Briggs tried to do what he did in a medical emergency and let go of anything extraneous that wasn't what he was doing right at that moment. Which included the presence of the ship's commanding officer as well as the rangemaster. Keeping the rifle tight against his shoulder, he began firing.

And showed that he was definitely someone that objected to consciousness. It took several wild shots before the first target dropped, several more for the second. The humanoids continued to advance on him and, seeing the line in the sand, he suspected if they got past that line, the course was over and he'd have failed. Forgetting breath control, trigger control and anything else about weapons fire that they tried to teach him in boot, he fired wildly, hitting more by sheer dumb luck than anything else.

When the first wave came close to the line, he dropped the rifle and pulled the pistol, doing worlds better with it - for him at least. When the first of the 'targets' crossed the line bringing the course to an end, he managed to drop at least seventeen of them. Not that they were all dead, but they weren't moving to the line anymore.

Slowly the young Trill replaced the pistol in the holster and stared down at the sand, waiting for the berating sure to come from the Marine CO and the NCO regarding his performance. But what worried him so much: did he just perform so badly that the Colonel would put a stop to any further attempt for him to go FMF?


Damian watched the corpsman complete his course of fire, wincing slightly as his fire went wild. Fighting the urge to correct him, both he and the gunner swapped looks of slight apprehension. As Briggs stopped firing, Damian clapped the Gunner on the shoulder and stepped forward as the safety light turned red again. Being careful not to become too friendly with the Petty Officer, he pointed to the furthest target. "You know, your aim is pretty good on that target-" he noted that two shots had landed square in the center of mass. "But what about that little guy?" he asked as his finger pointed to a burst that had landed on the far side of the 'neck' of the target.

Keeping his gaze on the ground, Briggs shook his head. "That one was far 'way an' I had time ta get'em. This one was close and I..." He swallowed hard, not wanting to finish the sentence with 'I panicked'. Plus, his mother always told him not to pick on smaller people, that it wasn't right for bigger people to hurt smaller people. "I can do better, Colonel!" he said, hoping he hadn't ruined his chance to advance his skillsets and do more than just stay on the ship. "My bunkie's are security, maybe they can help me out?"


Putting his hand down, he looked over the target. "They definitely could but also keep in mind that if you're planning on going 'greenside', then the best people to teach you would be Marines." Damian looked back to the Gunner. "In fact, that's what this range is for. Arrange some time with the Gunner, he'll be able to show you the ropes if you ask." Damian pointed out.

Briggs stood up straighter as he seemed to brighten. He hardly believed what he was hearing. He did horribly, the Colonel confirmed it but not so horribly that the Colonel didn't seem to think he could improve. "Ya mean ya ain't gonna cut me from tryin more?" he asked, just to make sure. "I promise I'll try hard and get better."

Damian sighed. "How do you think you learn? You practice until it's practically second nature." he said, sighing slightly. "Do you want to know what happened the first time I handled a phaser rifle?" he asked, rhetorically. "My shots went everywhere and they nearly pulled me off the range until they decided that I could be redeemed. The point that I'm trying to make is that if you practice, you'll be shooting expert in no time. Think about it." Damian finished his monologue and strode back over to the table and picked up the phaser rifle. Making sure it was rendered safe once again, he walked back into the weapons storage area and handed his weapon to a Staff Sergeant standing behind the barrier.

While there seemed to be a rebuke in the comments, Briggs didn't care. That the Colonel not only took interest in helping him to further himself and his career already put him leagues ahead of his previous CO (where he wasn't the lowly man in medical, but the entire medical team). Also, the Colonel was going to let him try to get better. Despite the vow he made to his mother, he was determined now that he would become as proficient as any of the Marines aboard ship, even, if he put in the effort, the Colonel himself. Plus, maybe if he showed the Colonel that he could improve in an area that he was so clearly deficient in, it would get him FMF status.

"Yes, sir, Colonel," he said, maybe a bit more formally than was required, but then again, it was kind of a formal moment. He sighed as he turned to the gunnery sergeant. "Are there any holodeck programs that'll help me ta work on gettin better?"

Damian thought for a moment. "The Marine Close Quarters Battle simulations should help with the quick fire exercises on the Type II. I'd also recommend the Parris Island Marksmanship Simulation- it's actually the way I boned up on my proficiency on the phaser rifle." Thinking for a moment, Damian continued. "I'd recommend learning the ins and outs of these weapons as well- you'll be tested once you go before the board after you pass the exams and serve your time."

For a moment, Briggs heart rate shot through the roof when he heard 'serve your time'. For him that phrase normally meant an arrest and conviction and made to serve jail time. But, after a few moments the context didn't add up and he slowly relaxed. "Thank you, sir, I'll do my best." He repeated the names of the programs to himself, trying to secure them to memory in order to get them loaded into his personal holodeck profile. He checked his chronometer. He was still on duty for another couple hours, then he was going to hit the gym and get chow after that. But later tonight? He felt he could definitely get started. And surely he'd be able to find something in the ship's library about the weapons so he could start learning them as the Colonel said?

Damian nodded. "You're welcome, HM3. Have a good day." he said before he headed for the door.

"Colonel, sir?" Briggs said, chancing it as the CO was leaving the room. He swallowed, but was determined to say it. "Ya ain't as scary when ya ain't doin a briefin. Ya 'lmost 'right good guy for a commandin officer."

Damian turned and looked back. "Thanks for the compliment, Petty Officer. I just try to treat everyone the way I'd want to be treated because I never know who I'm going to have covering my back when the crap hits the fan." he said thoughtfully.

"Understood, sir," Briggs said as he continued to work to commit to memory the things he was taught and told. The Colonel was giving him a chance and he wasn't going to squander it.

:OFF