Even The Fodder Needs To Train

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Crystala Endivain
Grand Inquisitor
Grand Inquisitor
Posts: 475
Joined: 2008-04-20 16:59
Custom Title: Director-General & Dark Jedi Archon
Organizational Unit: ISIS (in its entirety)
Location: Echo-class cruiser, Observer
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Even The Fodder Needs To Train

Post by Crystala Endivain » 2012-07-09 05:00

"HAI-YAA!" A foot was raised up.

"Oof!" And it was planted with firm accuracy straight into the mid-section of another being. "Nugh, not, not bad." Getting back up, the downed, and somewhat winded IntOrg Supervisor Drey Murray smiled at his sparring partner, out of breath and drenched in sweat.

Standing across from him was another agent, Overseer Amberly Vahl smiled, wiping her forehead from the sweat that was trying to run into her eyes. Like Drey, she too was out of breath, however unlike Drey, she had youth going for her. "You're pretty good yourself Drey, I would have thought standing around all day here on the Observer would have made you soft."

The man shrugged slightly. "It may have made me soft around the edges, and perhaps a little rounder than I'd like, but I try to keep up with youngsters like you." He put a hand to his chest, smiling through the pain of the last kick. "Though I have to say, you youngsters like to hit hard."

Amberly laughed. "You're one to talk. That shot to the face was uncouth."

"That was supposed to have been the bluff," Drey smiled back, still a little guilty that he broke the cardinal rule of sparring even if she hadn't reacted quite the way he had hoped. Reflex should have kicked in, but instead the woman actually took the hit leaving him to be surprised and thrown to the floor in response. "But you know what they say, 'no harm, no fowl.'"

The training centre was buzzing with activity, a fair number of people about practicing their aim, or how to hit someone else or even less combative skills like their lockpicking, simulated bomb disarming, hacking, when the ISIS has a room marked training centre, the really mean 'training'. Reaching the bench, Drey picked up a water bottle from a tray held by a waiting protocol droid, one of the perks of rank it would seem, and handed it to the woman before picking up one for himself where he proceeded to uncap it. "I haven't seen much of you around lately. They keeping you busy up there?"

'Up there' was a spook term for Ubiqtorate, and Amberly nodded as she likewise opened her own bottle. She took a few gulps of water, wiping her lips with the back of her hand before replying casually, "You know how it is. Too many places-"

"And not enough bodies," Drey finished along with the woman, nodding in agreement. "Sounds about right."

"How about you? Section K seems to be doing well for itself lately."

"I guess you could say that. We got lucky with some of those operations but I'd like to stop relying on that if we can help it." Sitting down at the bench, he shook his head as he stared off at the opposite wall for a long moment. "I miss the traveling though. Spend more of my time locked away here than I do out in the field."

"It's not all it's cracked up to be anymore, I can assure you. Between stuck up Third Fleet Commodores who lack the tact and social grace to make a good impression-"

Drey cut her off with a quick observation. "I heard he transferred to head up Second Fleet." She glanced at him and he thought he perceived one of those 'how can you possibly know who I'm talking about' looks. "Come now, there aren't that many Commodores in Third Fleet that fit that description and, the way I saw it, I had a fifty-fifty chance."

That made Amberly throw her head back and laugh. "I can see why they picked you to head up Section K, you've got a knack for deducing these sorts of things."

"I got lucky."

"Mmm, perhaps." She suspected there was more to it than that, but maybe that was just woman's intuition kicking in again and she'd bet credits to doghnuts that his lucky guessing streak would hold up better in the end. Lowering her head back down, she looked over at her counterpart and gave him a weak smile. "But I have to admit, it's been a while since I've talked to a familiar face, at least you get to do it every day."

"Believe me when I tell you it's better that way," Drey began, polishing off his water bottle in a few quick gulps. "At least you and I can't be at one another's throats for very long." He rubbed his chest for effect, adding, "And I would hate to have you as my enemy." That got her to laugh again and he stood back up, grabbing his belt with holstered sidearm on it. "You up for a little round of target practice? At least there's something age and experience might win out over youthful enthusiasm and energy levels."

"Drey, you're only forty-one."

"And you're twenty-seven." She smirked at him and he smiled back, another one of those little spook guessing games where they tried to see who was bluffing whom. Neither of them blinked and, fearing this could last for a very long time, Drey broke first and said, "Interested?"

"I don't see why not. I seem to spend more of my time dealing with Moffs and Commodores than I do fellow agents or even enemy combatants." The two of them exited the sparring room, Drey ordering the droid to fetch a few powerpaks for them as they made their way to the firing range. The Observer wasn't an overly large vessel. Sure it was a cruiser, but compared to the sheer size of a Star Destroyer, it didn't have the volume to house an overly elaborate firing range, all the space taken up more with sensor and communication equipment, computers and enough servers to store what might as well be every last flimsiplast note in the galaxy. Those hoping to test their long range accuracy were better served visiting the Nemesis or any of the other ships in her task force.

The firing range was mostly empty, only a couple other agents were practicing at the moment. "When was the last time you fired your gun anyways?" he asked, making idle small talk as he looked at some of the other people at the range while checking over his gun.

"A lot more recent than you think, I'll say that much."

"So, yesterday then?" he mused, another one of those bluffing statements to maybe draw her out and reveal something more interesting. She just rolled her eyes, shook her head and smiled, refusing to allow herself to be roped in so easily. He watched the others at the range shoot and though his eyesight wasn't as keen as it used to be, bacta only helped so far and if he didn't have a debilitating injury there was no reason for treatment, but he could make out some of the tiny markings on the various targets. As could be expected, the agents had fairly decent aim, average when he thought about the few times he passed by firing ranges being used by the army. One agent in particular, a blonde woman, was using a carbine fitted with a scope and seemed to be having a bit of a time hitting the target down range.

"Huh," Amberly began, also seeing the same thing Drey did. However, her interest lay elsewhere with the woman. "Haven't seen her before and I thought I knew everyone aboard this ship."

"You have been gone a long time. Things do change around here."

"Yeah? And how many heads have been on the Director's chopping block?" She grinned fearlessly.

"None actually, at least since you've been gone." It was surprising, not just for the red-head, but for everyone in general. For the optimists, it meant things had improved and the ISIS was actually secure. The pessimists all figured the DG was doing it in private now, using falsified reports claiming the unfortunate were being shipped to the Misfit when really, she met them half way and made sure they never got off the shuttle in one piece again. The realists, like Drey, didn't think a whole lot of it, it was a lot easier to work when one didn't have to constantly worry about the DG looming over you, lightsaber in hand ready to sever your head because you spilled a drop of stimcaf.

"You don't say? Well, let's hope we can keep it that way."

Drey grimaced, still unable to divine anything from her, this time with respect to which camp she was in though was inclined to think realist as well. It happened like a sine wave, newly inducted agents were optimists looking to make a difference. Then they became a little more grounded like Drey, until they started to see how ugly things were able to get, the despicable acts that they were committing or helping commit. Assuming they didn't defect, retire or die at that point, they would come to accept what they did was a necessary evil to make the Federation a better and safer place for it's citizens, fellow agents, soldiers, pilots, officers etc. etc. and become realists again. It always made Drey wonder if the DG saw herself as an optimist or if she was firmly planted in reality, just so he could finalize his theory, but Force knew he would never ask that particular woman such a question.

Putting on the necessary hearing protection, he approached the would-be sniper, watching her pop off a few more shots. Her aim was slowly improving, but he could swear her aim was off not because of some lack of ability but more because she hadn't properly aligned the scope. "Need some help?" he asked.

The woman glanced back at him and offered a polite smile. "I think I'm just a really bad shot," she began, her accent sounding distinctly Kautii.

Drey extended a hand, gesturing for the gun she was using. "May I?" He could sense Amberly approaching and his thoughts quickly turned to the hope he wouldn't screw up. The woman handed him the weapon and he looked it over. A standard DC-19 stealth carbine which explained the first problem: it was next to impossible to actually see where the bolt was going or the path it was taking. "I think your scope is crooked."

While he fiddled and played with the scope on the gun, Amberly looked at the woman and gave her the twice-over. "You just get transferred here?" she began with a friendly smile that might have been a little forced.

"I was just called in for a priority briefing," the woman responded, raising her shoulders a little, looking uncertain. "But when I arrived, I was told they weren't ready for me, that they were still waiting on others to show up so they gave me access to a bunk and the basic facilities here." The Observer was known as one of the most difficult ships for accessing even a public refresher, security was paramount and those not usually assigned to live aboard the vessel were subject to intense scrutiny and clearance checks.

Amberly nodded as Drey finished fixing up the scope. "That should do it. Give it a try and see if that doesn't help your aim some."

"Thank-you... Sir?"

Drey, realizing he left his rank plaque and code cylinder in the locker, chuckled. "I guess it's Sir for you but I hardly think that matters."

"Done your good deed for the day Supervisor?" Amberly asked mockingly as she moved into an empty stall, readying her weapon. "Let's see if you've still got your touch."
"Dagger of the ISIS? No, I am the hand that wields it!" - Director-General Endivain
"The quickest way to find the needle, burn the haystack!"

User avatar
Crystala Endivain
Grand Inquisitor
Grand Inquisitor
Posts: 475
Joined: 2008-04-20 16:59
Custom Title: Director-General & Dark Jedi Archon
Organizational Unit: ISIS (in its entirety)
Location: Echo-class cruiser, Observer
Contact:

Re: Even The Fodder Needs To Train

Post by Crystala Endivain » 2012-07-11 02:35

Drey stood at another stall and raised his DC-18 blaster pistol, a standard sidearm across the Federation as it was sturdy, reliable and required very little in the way of maintenance which was good as most officers and 'desk-workers' couldn't be bothered to maintain a weapon that seldom saw use. Of course, for most of those people, their lack of care for maintenance also extended to lack of practice and after the army started enforcing mandatory fire range refreshers and practice on a regular basis for all their soldiers and officers- even the armchair generals- the ISIS, not wanting to be outshone in their silent rivalry, enforced the same measure.

It was no where near as stringent as the army's requirements, mostly because off-duty soldiers stationed aboard a warship didn't have much to do besides train. For the ISIS, it didn't matter where individual agents were, they were always working on something or another be it filing reports, consolidating intel, monitoring other staff, Drey could write an entire holonovel on the subject and he thought about it on an on-again-off-again basis even had the odd chapter drafted up but a hectic work schedule kept him from really making any strong headway on it.

He watched Amberly fire a few shots down range, hitting the holographic target in the distance. A series of sensors measured where the shots traveled and the hologram lit up with red spots of the same diameter of the blaster bolt to show what was hit. The back wall was made of thick durasteel protected by a light energy field that was easily able to handle small arms fire, the thick durasteel a back up in case the vessel needed to reroute all non-essential power.

"Showing off again?" Drey asked Amberly as he looked down the iron sights of his own blaster.

"You know me," she shot back with a grin, "I don't show off unless there's a practical reason to do so."

"Like trying to impress me? Or intimidate the woman next to us?" He shot a quick glance at the blonde girl who only seemed to be half paying attention to them. Looking back down the sights, he fired, almost having forgotten just how much kick the pistol had when it fired, the barrel snapping upwards. The bolt traveled down the range and just grazed the head of his hologram humanoid.

"Looks like that one is going to be going bald early." Amberly mused aloud, snapping off a few more rounds.

"Death from the shame of it all?" the other woman offered. That made Drey laugh, forcing him to postpone his follow up shot. He was already losing most of his own hair, but he had long since stopped thinking about it though every now and then others might make a quip, particularly whenever old holos of him surfaced, usually at parties or social gatherings.

"She's got some wit about her. Always refreshing to be around people who can joke about in an environment that is normally dry and serious."

"You're working with Third Fleet," Drey raised an eyebrow, finally firing off a second and third shot. "I thought they were the pinnacle of jokes, if usually the butt end of them, or the punchline."

"Ohhhh, you have no idea." She barred her teeth together, something clearly troubling her. Was it the relaxed environment the Grand Admiral maintained? The fleet was pretty much a security nightmare, though the same could be said for Second Fleet though for the exact opposite reason. Where Admiral Fenris ran such a tight ship that even a single speck of dust would be hard pressed to find it's way to his office, Admiral McFini just didn't seem to give a damn, maintaining an open door policy to his office. "Too many personalities in that fleet, a lot of them conflicting."

"Doesn't that describe the Federation as a whole?" spoke the other woman again, glancing over at the two of them from around the small dividing partition.

Sighing, Amberly knew it was hard to argue against that, but her experiences in other fleets were a lot smoother than Third though maybe it was just a byproduct of the times, especially now. "I suppose." Emptying the rest of her clip down the range, she looked at her handiwork. The holographic target, normally a green colour, was still green, except for a red head that only had two green spots and a single curved line in it.

"So how is making a smiley face on the target practical?" Drey asked, unable to keep the envy from his tone. His shots were reaching the target as he found his aim again, a shot in the chest just below the sternum and one in the shoulder, right where the collar bone was. "Looks more like you wanted a reason to show off."

"It usually makes people smile." Amberly began reloading her blaster, watching Drey and the other woman continue to fire down the range at their own targets. "I like to think that I could give the Surface Marshal a run for her credits too."

"Ever consider testing yourself against the Surface Marshal?" the other agent inquired, looking through the scope at the smiley face in the distance. From the distance they were at, without the aid of a scope, it looked pretty neat, but upon closer inspection, it was a very crude form, but it was still impressive nonetheless. Her question was received with a sharp, brief laugh.

"I like tests of skills that I have a shot at winning."

Drey chuckled suddenly. "Heh, 'shot at winning'."

A few minutes went by, more rounds were fired and the other people on the range had disappeared, leaving the three agents alone in the room now, only the sounds of gunfire filling their ears. "So, you're a Coordinator?" Amberly asked as she reloaded her blaster for the third time.

The other woman nodded once, still staring down the scope. "I am."

"Got any interesting stories of past ops?" Just about everyone had a tale or two, usually the details were modified significantly, names changed, locations and environments altered and the like, but the general jest remained the same for the part of the tale they hoped to get across.

There was a long pause, the woman with the carbine not firing a single shot the whole time. "Nothing interesting really. I mostly handle black ops."

"What ship are you based on usually? You said you were here for some sort of briefing?" Drey lowered his blaster, reloading it for the first time as his protocol droid approached with a tray filled with blaster packs.

"I don't have a ship actually, at least, not that I'm aware of. I usually get redeployed as soon as I return from an assigned op."

"No rest for the weary." Drey chuckled.

"Or the wicked." Not many people had assignments like that, everyone was usually offered some sort of respite. "So I take it this is your first time to the Observer."

Firing a shot, the woman nodded slightly. "Second actually." She paused, adding indifferently, "But I suppose the first time doesn't really count as I never left the hanger." Glancing over at the red-headed woman, she asked a question of her own, mostly to buy herself a moment of rest from more questions. "How about you? I overheard you two talking about third fleet."

A sigh escaped. "Federation wants to expand into the Outer Rim, or maybe it would be more accurate to say Grand Admiral McFini wants to. We don't really have the time nor resources to try and launch a campaign there, especially with the New Republic ships at Arbra in such close proximity. I'm the liaison for the agency for that campaign."

Drey took in a breath, figuring it was his turn to answer. "I'm actually based here. Head of Section K, Internal Organization." Extending his hand, he introduced himself. "Drey Murray."

Straightening up at last, the woman turned to face the man and took his hand to shake it. "Fros-" she cut herself off suddenly. "Er, I mean, Essia Ocheron."

"Codename?" Drey began with a knowing grin. "It's all right. I've got so many aliases I sometimes forget my real name."

Amberly laughed. "How long has it been since you've been out in the field and had to actually use one?" He shrugged, having lost track of time though it probably wasn't quite as far back as he might believe it to be. Turning her attention to the new girl, she did the polite thing and introduced herself as well. "Amberly Vahl. I'm all over the place, everywhere and nowhere all at once."

Nodding, Essia looked at the two of them. "Pleasure to meet the both of you."

"Likewise you Essia. Forgive my curiosity, but the briefing you were talking about, you said it was rescheduled?"

Essia nodded again. "Yes."

"Do you know to when?"

"Tomorrow morning I believe, oh-six-hundred hours." She saw both Amberly and Drey exchange looks. "Why?"

"I think we're part of the exact same briefing then."
"Dagger of the ISIS? No, I am the hand that wields it!" - Director-General Endivain
"The quickest way to find the needle, burn the haystack!"

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