Ask Drill Interrupted

[Roland Rook]

THEME
Training thread for Rangers lead by Roland
​

The efforts of past Ranger the rest of the Sector Rangers had a space station in the Manaan system. It served the purpose of allowing fast and efficient response to nearby emergencies. Moreso it was a good pit stop for the ever-moving members of the Sector Rangers. But today the newly promoted Lieutenant had something else in mind.

There was a small firing range, armory and other facilities that Rangers might need onboard. Roland stood in front of a small table that was positioned near one of the docking tubes. Behind him the docking tube was closed and the ship connected wasn't visible but it would come into play soon. The table had a host of items on it that would be useful to the rangers should they choose to add to their equipment.

"Today, we will be running drills in a zero G environment. We will be only using non-lethal weapons. You won't be using your own weapons in this drill so you can stow them in your ships or turn them into the armory until we're done." On the table there were closed weapon cases he had yet to open for the attendants. "If you want to use your own flightsuit it must have the following specifications. A built in rebreather, life support system and vac seal that have been tested in the last month and are in working order. If you don't have a flightsuit or if it doesn't meet specifications....see the armorer." There were other items on the table besides the melee weapons that the Mandalorian looked over.

If anybody needed to leave and come back he was fine waiting. Eyes behind T visor examined those that were participating in this training wondering if everyone took care of their equipment to the same extent as he did. Roland's own armor would have changed to match his instructions. His purplish hued helmet that was different from his standard portions of his armor that were still the blued steel appearance. The life support pack was obvious as well but he decided to forego his vision modes and jetboots. A small chirp came from his datapad which he checked momentarily but then stowed again.

@TerranSteel @Kestrel

 

[Corran Velt]

Outpost Blue was almost completely different than the last time Corran was here. The carbon-scored wall panels were replaced with shining and reinforced new ones. The floors were not littered with bodies and metal shards of shattered armor or station hull. They were polished and clean; one could almost see the reflection in their footsteps. The hangar was practically serene when he arrived. It use to have flaming hulks of transports and charred remains, mixed with blood curdling screams of the wounded. Whoever had done the detail work deserved to be praised.

The young Ranger had signed up for the exercises offered by Lieutenant Roland because, well, Corran had never missed an opportunity for training. An ounce of instruction saved a pound of trouble later. Not to mention, the training was on operating in a zero-gravity environment and the blond youth's only experience working in that type of setting was fixing something outside the hull of a freighter. He didn't want his first experience in it as a Ranger to be the real thing. Especially not after what he learned in these very halls at the cost of other's mistakes.

As the Lieutenant gave his briefing, Corran stood at attention like a cadet in an academy. His boots together and standing at his full height. The flightsuit that made up his uniform for the day was of New Republic style, in contrast to Mandalorian or old Imperial style where your whole face was enclosed in an armored helm. The helmet, which sat tucked under the young Ranger's arm, was fully enclosed by had a see-through visor unlike the limited vision goggles or T-visor of other types. It looked in pristine condition. After all, Corran took care of it as instructed in the manual, complete with monthly functionality checks and operator drills. In the event of a hull breach, it wouldn't help anyone if you didn't know how to operate the equipment that would save your life from a quick end in space.

Once the briefing was finished, Corran responded with a professional, "Yes, sir," and remained at attention. Even if others had to go to the armory and equip themselves, it didn't bother him if he had to stand there the rest of the day rotation. Gave him more time to think over what the training exercise might entail, along with the enigmatic Mandalorian who stood before him. The blond youth had met Lt. Roland only once before and only very briefly. Today would be a lot to learn.

@Darasuum @Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

Dread permeated every fiber of the detective’s being as she stepped into the cool halls of Outpost Blue. Bast had not slept well the previous night. Despite the peaceful lull of the Sapphire Crescent cutting through the marbled blue of hyperspace, she remained seated stiff as a board and the hazel eyes never closed for more than a fraction of a second. The entire night had been agonizingly spent in an attempt to not to think. She was returning to her prison, her hell. The detective had convinced herself she was ready, or more so she was convinced not to have her weakness known. She was almost always present at training sessions in order to hone towards perfection, and there was no doubt her conspicuous absence would be noted. Now she walked with measured step, unease masked behind neatly pulled back hair and sharp dress.

The building appeared unnervingly freshly redecorated, as if in an attempt to hide bloodstains and scoring, bullet holes and cages. Still, she knew the layout. She knew the location of her holding cell and that of the exact spot where she’d seen Orn die. He had spoken no hopeful last words, had not felt peace. He died in pain and fear, and part of Bast had died with the man she’d met barely an hour before. Blood never made her queasy- she investigated murders- yet she had lain in her own vomit before she’d been dragged away. This is not the time, even if it is the place. Damn, she needed to get over herself. She deserved to feel the guilt and reap the consequences of her decisions. Forcing her reluctant body to take the long route, the woman made her way through the grave of her fellow men.

As per usual, the seasoned Sector Ranger arrived five minutes early and greeted her lieutenant with the appropriate and formal respect. Having met him once before on a now cold case, his mandalorian armour sparked interest rather than surprise. He seemed a good man who abided by a code of some sort, and she could respect the fact. A minute or so later, a familiar blond man entered the room, as put together as ever. She nodded at him, acknowledging the man with his technical title. Despite the formal greeting, a small smile hinted at familiarity between the two. It also conveyed some amount of relief. He hadn’t seen what the pirates had put her through, but he could likely guess by the way he found her. Having her partner there was like having a handrail to cling onto in the case of tidal waves of emotion.

Having been given permission to take her leave, the Sector Ranger disappeared and reappeared almost immediately, clad in a semi-tight fitting, motion maximizing flight suit. The protruding line of her exo-spinal prosthesis was visible under the dark gray fabric, beginning at her neck and ending at her pelvis. A chromium helmet with a tinted, full faced visor was propped on one of her hips. “Ready, Sir.” Intent eyes stared steadily over his shoulder. She was ready, or rather, ready as she could ever be.



@Darasuum
@TerranSteel

 

[Roland Rook]

Roland looked at a message from one of the logistics officers. It was talking about probe droids and showing a few different model options they Sector Rangers could switch to depending on deployment location. It had been the Mandalorian's opinion they could mitigate their report and response time by having drone barges loaded with probe droids. The Galactic Empire had a history of using them for scouting rebel locations and he had to admit when a tactic worked.

The hooded helm looked up from the datapad noticing Corran standing at attention. "Relax Ranger." He was used to sometimes calling fellow rangers simply 'Ranger' and since he was now a superior to he had to make sure to not be overly familiar.

When everyone was standing back at the ready he put the datapad down. "First, let me see a show of hands. How many of you have fought in Zero G before?" He would wait to see the response. But it was mostly to get a ballpark idea of how fast things might take off or if there was going to be a different learning curve. "Zero G is naturally...in space. That means you will be on a space station or starship when in Zero G. Makes sense right? Well you'd think that but then we've heard that story about Ranger Dan thinking it's a good idea to use a thermal detonator against a terrorist in some casino satellite."

"You are quite literally a few centimeters from a silent death anytime in space. Artificial gravity or otherwise." He hopped they understood he was training them for the real thing. This wasn't laser tag. The moment they realized the gravity would mean when it came to the real thing they would be able to react appropriately.

"Form a line. Come up to the table and select one item." This was one of the tests that didn't necessarily have a right answer. On the table there were a few weapons as well as other tools. A set of binders, an empty dc-17 with an ascension mod, a foe sweeper with only a few shots in its cartridge, a pair ofshock boxing gloves with the right being larger than the left and being clearly from two different original sets, a stun baton, and a S-40 stun pistol with half a cartridge. The Lieutenant was curious to see what everyone picked. There were maybe still a few that were arriving back from changing but that would mean they wouldn't get first pick.

@TerranSteel @Kestrel

 

[Corran Velt]

At the command, Corran took an at-ease stance. As Lt. Roland briefed the assembled Rangers on the focus of their training today, the blond youth allowed himself a brief glance to Bast next to him. His blue eyes help a clear expression of youthful exuberance. If the training required any teamwork or cooperation at all, they would have this in the bag. Not to mention, they were being trained by Lt. Roland himself - known as the Sith Slayer. He had taken down a trained dark force-user during the Prison Incident without injury. On top of that he was a Mandalorian, which held distinction all its own.

The young Ranger stood still when the question of fighting in Zero G before was posed. He hadn't fought in Zero G before - only operated in it. While that might provide some advantage over those who have never felt weightless, it didn't exactly provide much experience either. It's like the difference between walking and advancing in combat. Similar in theory, different in practice. This exercise would be one to commit to memory, both mind and muscle.

Predictably one of the first ones to arrive, Corran had the prize of being one of the first in line for a weapon. Once at the table, the assorted armory offered quite a few advantages and disadvantages. With those in mind, a user needed to also recognize their own strengths and weaknesses. Blue eyes glanced back at Bast again. Teamwork too. The answer became clear. Corran grabbed the empty DC-17 with an Ascension mod attachment. While technically defenseless, the mod would allow secure mobility in a Zero-Gravity environment. Plus, the former space trader had more experience using cables in space than blasters. With the empty blaster in hand, the blond youth returned to his position and stood at-ease.

@Kestrel @Darasuum

 

[Bast Emblai]

Although Roland’s ‘At Ease’ command was directed at Corran, Bast relaxed her posture slightly. Still, it was unusually stiff and her hands were clenched at her sides. The lieutenant seemed to care less about formality than several others the knew, namely Lt. Ghotti. That man had yet to call the Cath Hounds off her scent, convinced he would eventually find something incriminating. The detective wondered what was taking him so long. Here she was, at the very place where she could have prevented the death of thirteen men, but didn’t. perhaps he would be the only one to acknowledge her guilt, rather than tell the woman it was not her fault. The casualness of her current commanding officer’s demeanor created a contradicting mix of discomfort and relief within Bast. She felt as if she were walking a cable between respect and aloofness. She yearned to be seen as experienced but not presumptious, and familiarity with a relative stranger blurred those lines that were typically black-and-white in her mind.

A quick shake of the woman’s head indicated she had never fought in a zero G environment before. With all the training, first for CorSec, then for the Sector Rangers, it seemed like a serious gap in experience. She’d done hand-to-hand and ranged combat, specialized driving, survival courses, and specialty detective training, yet never this. Although her stoic face betrayed nothing, a nervous itch developed at the nape of her neck. Hard work and unshakability had earned Bast respect. Respect she hoped would not be lost from a failed drill that she had arrived at unprepared. In an attempt to reassure herself, Bast decided to talk with Corran after the exercise. Not only should she check in on him because of his experience at the outpost, but she could confide in him. The man had been fresh when he was sent in, and nothing could prepare him for the emotionally grueling work of identifying and retrieving the badges and tags of the deceased. Even the seasoned CorSec veteran had seen new atrocities, experienced the ruthlessness of power hungry, immoral people. If such beings could be fairly called people.

Bast queued behind her partner, hazel eyes soaking in every detail of all the weapons neatly laid on the table, weighing advantages and disadvantages of each. Almost immediately, she dismissed the boxing gloves and the stun baton. Unarmed combat had always been a struggle for her. Before her injury, her skill had been passable. Now... It was best to choose a blaster. The Foesweeper, although sparsely loaded, would provide enough kickback to propel her around if necessary, and, of course, could also be used for defense. The only downside was that she must carefully consider when and how to use the weapon because of its limited resources. The ranger was grateful for her sharp, decisive mind. After all, it was her last and only line of defense. Gloved hands carefully took the Foesweeper and a finger rested on the safety, but did not remove it.

Eying her partner, Bast smiled encouragingly, hoping they would be working together rather than being ‘enemies’. The thought of shooting at him, swinging at him felt off, and the woman had to remind herself it was for the good of the organization. Perhaps it was fate’s cruel punishment to make her hurt her fellow men, this time directly. The female ranger spoke under her breath at no one in particular, trying to process what was happening, reminding herself once again it was all for the best. “I never thought I’d be back here.” Shuddering at the concept, Bast shifted her hand away from the safety and waited.


@Darasuum
@TerranSteel

 

[Roland Rook]

The Lieutenant had become aware of how he considered other Rangers. There were certain responsibilities he had now that he didn't before. It was something he was going to have to adapt to. But if his history was anything to show, it wouldn't be too much of a problem. The only difference this change in his life had was that it affected others and not only himself. That's not true. I chose to affect other people's lives the moment I decided become a Ranger.

The mental health as well as morale of his subordinates was important as their physical health if not more so. As the participants selected their tools for the exercise ahead Roland would keep an eye on each of them. Some of them he knew from the report on the events that had allowed the Sector Rangers to use this space station as well as a bolo class corvette. Both were vital tools for the Rangers but there was more horror that had happened in the process. The Lieutenant had not been there and would not give any words of comfort regarding the incident despite it seeming to hang over everyone's head. Maybe this exercise and its proximity would be therapeutic.

There was however an odd number of people. That was fine. "Pair up with them." He motioned for one of the facilitating Rangers. They voluntarily set the S-40 stun blaster aside. Now there were three pairs of two. "Facilitators, select your tool." He gave a wave of his hand for the two Rangers on his side of the tables to step forward. One was a fellow Lieutenant but the other was a detective specialist. They had arm bands marking them as part of the training and not as trainees. "Each team will be selected to face one of the facilitators, myself included. It will be two against one. But because of this we get to have a stun blaster with half a cartridge full and select one additional item from the table." He looked down at what was left. "Not that there's much to choose from" Roland muttered. Finally he elected to pick up the stun baton, double checking that it did have a charge.

Making sure his tools were secure on his belt he used his free hand to throw a thumb over his shoulder. "Beyond that airlock is an IT-6 drone shepherd. Once we are aboard we'll head into high orbit and turn the artificial gravity off. The crew of the ship has been set to locked down quarters in the fore section of the ship. Let's walk and talk." He turned and headed through the sliding doors and began boarding the ship. The docking tube had windows, showing the starry vacuum of space as well as the planet Manaan below. There were stories among his people of the history of Manaan. He could have sworn there was a song sung about a Mandalorian but he couldn't remember how it went.

"There are markings on the bulkheads and cargo netting to portions of the ship that are outside of the exercise area. For obvious reasons, don't go outside of the exercise area except in the event of an emergency." He knew they weren't straight of out Ranger academy but that also came with the job. Sometimes he just had to say the standard obligatory procedure that even he felt was redundant. "This is Captain Jyra..." He motioned as the tube came to an end. Just beyond the bulkhead was a flightsuit clad Kel Dor. "Welcome aboard. My crew will be limiting their movements to adjacent compartments. I hope training goes well." As quickly as he had been introduced he departed to go back to the bridge and take care of his own responsabilities. "Any questions so far?" He asked as they made their way into the spacious cargo hold of the drone freighter.

@TerranSteel @Kestrel

 

[Corran Velt]

So it would be teams then. If they got to pick, Corran would choose who he had from the start long ago, on this very station. The facilitators were likely experienced Sector Rangers and certainly had fought in Zero-G before or they wouldn't be instructing. Armed with weapons of their choice from the table and stun blasters made them very challenging obstacles. A team of three or even four could find themselves utterly defeated in the right circumstances. The junior Ranger regarded the Mandalorian officer for a brief moment. Any team against him might need five or six to be competitive.

The briefing provided more on safety limits than the actual task at hand. A whole section of the ship they were boarding would be off-limits. By the sound of the class and type, maybe they'd get the large cargo section to themselves. More questions than answers, yet again. While crossing the umbilical docking tube, Corran fell back a little to walk alongside Bast. Mostly because he liked her company above all other Rangers, but also to offer silent support. The station was haunted, even if others couldn't see the ghosts. At least the view was something beautiful. The moons, stars, and planets of the Manaan system reminded the blond youth why he had picked up the life of a stellar nomad.

Corran signaled he had a question, "Lieutenant Roland, sir, is there an additional objective or is the sole objective to defeat our assigned facilitator?" It was a gut instinct. Based on the descriptions provided, could they really be using much of the droid barge as a combat and dueling arena? If so, it would be a very mobile battle indeed. If not, what was their other objective? How the instructor replied would inform Corran with enough information to begin planning.

@Darasuum @Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

The rules set out for the exercise were simple safety regulations: no exiting the training area, non-lethal force, teams of two against one, where the medkit was, and so on. Bast’s eyes tried to find her partner’s blue ones for confirmation. Matching pairs of operatives for missions was a serious and difficult business. There had to be respect, communication, and trust. The partners had to back each other one-hundred percent. Generally, there was a trial period to test compatibility, but the detective and Corran had met by chance on a low-profile case in Jakku. Whatever made teams work, they had it. The woman could work with others well enough, but through experience made her and the younger blond man, they had perfected communication. If there was any chance of taking down the mandalorian officer, the best chance of success was to team up. According to all sources and witness accounts, the man with the hidden face was a formidable enemy. His rank was well earned, and she feared him.

Walking down the docking tube, even with Corran by her side, felt like walking a parsec. She had thought once she was no longer on station ground, the regret and pain would disappear. She was mistaken. Did any of here men die near here? She didn’t think so. It was a part of the station they hadn’t gotten to, but the air felt the same: electrified with bolts, carrying the now silent-echoes of the screams of men calling for help, crying for their mothers, saying a prayer to die quickly. The Sector Ranger’s ears would never stop wringing. Damn the place for having such a hold on her. Damn her for not resisting. She was too tired. If only the training would take her mind off of what had happened for a moment.

“Captain.” Bast gave a subtle nod for greeting. The Kel Dor was wearing a mask obscuring most of his face, but it seemed as if he acknowledged her, then disappeared as quickly as he had come.

“No questions, sir.” Came her response to Lt. Roland. The quicker her adrenaline kicked in and her mind was focused, the better. While Corran, admirably ever wanting to be prepared, queried on the main objective, Bast began to consider how to maneuver with no faux gravity. Technically, the ship would be constantly feeling the effects of the force, in perpetual free fall, but it was almost an exact simulation of a vacuum. The only way to shift positions was to use secured objects, and extra precaution had to be taken considering the only friction offered would be from air resistance. Unless the walls were padded, which was unlikely for a cargo hold, pushing off something and being unable to stop could result in serious injury. The one blessing was that unless the space was also a depressurized vacuum, she would still be able to communicate verbally without a comm. Perhaps the piloting class from CorSec had actually taught her something useful. The situation was going to be complicated enough as it was, and anything unexpected would be doubly hard to handle.

@Darasuum
@TerranSteel

 

[Roland Rook]

He could see the anxiety in some of the faces and the body language of the participants. Behind the group, once they were all inside, the door to the docking tube would close. The subtle shudder of the ship detaching from the station followed. "It will be timed. No time limit but speed is of importance so don't take too long. We might introduce some objective securing and even extraction exercises later or during a different session." Roland checked his chrono to just check how much time had passed so far since they assembled.

There were more situations than just 'take out the hostile' in a Ranger's line of work and it was a reasonable question. "If you didn't already know, without gravity an object continues to move in on its trajectory until it hits something. So if you push off a bulkhead as fast as you can, you'll be expected to stop yourself at that speed." Roland knew how to reset a dislocated shoulder and some first aid. "If you get a cut or have a few other injuries or sicknesses they can be worsened by the affects of zero gravity. Keep this in mind if you're on a transport with civilians for example. Or if a hijacker gets some shrapnel. In this training environment, we can turn the gravity back on. You probably won't have that luxury in the field."

"This is the captain. We will be disabling the artificial gravity in one minute. Secure quarters or zero G training." The internal ship's announcement system clicked off. Roland walked over to the side of the cargo hold. A gloved hand reached for a bar about shoulder height and held onto it calmly while the other used his thumb to tap a datapad which had the roster of attendants. The other facilitators did the same and the trainees quickly followed.

He pulled out his datap"First group is...Rangers Vikkers and Ranger Y'ual. You two stay here while Ranger Segatt gets into position." A moment later they would all feel themselves become suddenly weightless. The facilitator moved out and out of sight. There were two holoprojectors in the cargo hold that had relayed points of view of other compartments in the ship where the training exercise was taking place. The intent was so that the others could watch and learn from one another. Roland would have preferred better facilities but this was the best the Sector Rangers could afford at this time. "Begin." The rest that had to wait he hoped used this time to get acquainted with zero gravity. It would only take a minute or two for either team to likely win. That was a benefit to forcing relatively tight quarters. But the drone freighter was far from small itself. Roland wasn't sure he knew the layout as well as he liked. If we ever need to operate on one of these we'll at least have some familiarity. A host of the drone freighters were moving about the galaxy as they trained. The probe droids that they used helped keep an eye out for pirate bases and possible Sith Order activity.

@TerranSteel @Kestrel

 

[Corran Velt]

A time trial was unfortunate enough, but the possible injection of unknown objectives was worse. Corran liked to plan everything out as much as possible. Especially for training. In the field, he had so far had no issue adapting but he hated the sudden changes then too. Almost always for the worse. The tips on gravity we welcome and things the blond Ranger hadn't considered. Civilians made every operation more complicated, as it added in the role of protector when Sector Rangers were often so focused on bagging the suspects. The injuries portion also suggested that one could take a hit on a planet or space station and recover, but in zero gravity it could be more likely fatal. Maneuverability and dexterity was more important than ever.

At the announcement of losing gravity, Corran grabbed a hold of a nearby metal rung in the cargo bay with some careful precision. He knew the feeling and could prepare for it. Even better, two other Rangers were going before him and neither of them were Bast Emblai. As heralded, the artifical gravity vanished and the normal weight of the flight suit went with it. All resistance on Corran's organic muscles ceased to exist. He kept his grip firm on the rung and used the slightest pull to keep his boots firmly planted on the deck upon which he previously stood. Just like working the merchant fleet ships. Well, it wasn't just like the trader ship days. When on the hull, a safety harness and cable were always attached, in case the wearer suddenly found themselves floating into the endless void. That's why Corran chose the ascension-gun. A cable, like he was used to. The being shot at while using a cable, not what he was used to.

Holoprojectors provided a clear visual on the duo facing off against a single instructor. Already, the blond Ranger was analyzing the visual data he was receiving, even from the empty hallways. Every aspect of the environment, and how the currently sparring Rangers operated in it, was crucial in giving an edge for those who went second or third. These droid freighters were internally small for a ship their size. Most of it was automated, except for the necessary bridge crew. A memory reminded Corran that he had worked on several cases that earned the donation of these ships. The young man nudged Bast next to him and pointed, "I hope I can move like the facilitator in zero G when this is over." It crossed his mind just then that maybe Bast already had training in this. She had years of experience over him, first with CorSec and then with the Sector Rangers. Corran hoped, after the thought, that they would be on a team and not risking it with an unknown partner.

@Kestrel @Darasuum

 

[Bast Emblai]

Although Bast was more than adept at hiding her nervousness, there was an unmistakable look of relief on her face when her name was not one of the first Lt. Roland announced. She knew well about the dangers of micro-g forces, and had been about to warn Corran when the head instructor beat her to the punch with a blanket statement on safety. She had never experienced an emergency in the vacuum of space, but one homicide investigation had included a shootout in a wrecked ship. Needless to say, the bodies had not been pretty and the results inconclusive, despite the near perfectly preserved evidence.

The switch to zero gravity was not a pleasant one. After the warning, there was a short period of extreme pressure while the ship was pulling into higher orbit. If Bast had not taken ahold of a bar above her head, she would have struggled to stay upright. The air pressed in hard on her temples, making any movement immediately nauseating for her. Then the gravity dial of space flipped the other direction, and she felt increasingly light. Pressure on her joints and temples was alleviated. Her first instinct when she felt her feet drift off the ground was to kick them back down, which, naturally, did not prove a successful method. Finally, after a few moments of struggling against the nothingness, she was standing again. The sensation of weightlessness was bizarre. Small bigs of rebellious hair that had escaped from her bun formed a sort of vertical halo. It felt a bit like the training exercises in water, but she knew it was going to be much more difficult.

As soon as the blue-tinted, fuzzy participants of the first round we’re projected, Bast’s attention locked on them. Her eyes, for the first time, were not clouded with fear, but clear with concentration. Making a mental note of which tactics worked and which didn’t, what unexpected challenges the other team faced, and how the instructor responded, she watched critically. Careful of the crate loaders- they are not padded. Find cover anchored to the ship to avoid the unfortunate consequences of conservation of momentum. Take hold of walls to get around. Moving fast was hardly an option, so she must remember to move strategically.

A prod from Corran caused her hazel eyes to swivel from the projection to his blue ones. There was a hint of boyish excitement in his voice that made the corners of her mouth turn up a bit. Her partner looked at home, in a way, floating gently in a ship. That thought elicited a full smile. Frankly, compared to her, he had shared very little about his personal life, his aspirations. While in the drone, he was in his element, and his confidence, forced or not, was radiating power. Perhaps sometime she would ask about his family, his opinions. Likely, such bonding should have been done earlier in their relationship, but now was hardly the time. Roland was a stoic as usual, and she wondered what his expression was behind the helmet, what he was thinking.

@Darasuum
@TerranSteel

 

[Roland Rook]

Roland watched the trainees. Some of them clearly disoriented but only time would tell if that persisted for the duration of the training. Hopefully it was just temporary for them at worst. But the Mandalorian's gaze also checked on those moving through the corridors. It was good to hear some of the comments from the observers. They were becoming aware of checking corners, learning from the mistakes of their comrades and already planning ahead.

They soon came to approach where the facilitator was. The first through the door, Vikkers, floated in only to be met by a stun blast to the chest. The flightsuit did provide some protection against the light stun damage. The stun only gave minimal change in course. The other trainee, Y'ual, who had yet to enter the compartment stayed around the corner. The one that had been hit tried to turn and find the source of the shot. Another two shot from the ceiling of the room followed, causing Vikkers to go limp.

The Ranger who had been waiting for them had traveled to the furthest compartment in the drone barge to make the two trainees sweep each room. Then he hid, weightless, near the ceiling. The Ranger pushed off from the ceiling, now his position revealed and fired two shots into the doorway. Y'ual remained in cover and poked her head to get a visual on Vikkers since his body was slowly moving out of sight and further into the room. But she just recieved another stun bolt suppressing her back into safety.

Like Bast, she had a blaster of her own. Taking a deep breath, the trainee floated to the wall facing the door and got into position like a proffesional swimmer before pushing off rapidly towards the door. Flying through at high speed Y'ual fired the half full foe-sweeper. It certainly did the job as the facilitator was struck in different spots. His hands didn't track the suddenly rushing ranger as well.

"End of exercise. Replacements..." He pointed towards the other duo besides Bast and Corran. "They're going to be stunned for a bit but should come to. Then we'll start the next round." He looked towards the two remaining Rangers. "How would you two have dealt with that situation?"

@TerranSteel @Kestrel

 

[Corran Velt]

For such a brief exchange, it provided lots to think about. In normal gravity, everything has a flat dimensional plane to it. Points of contact can be expected from forward or behind in urban or enclosed settings. One cannot dig a trench into floor panels or easily rappel up a durasteel wall. Without gravity though, the calculus changed in a way that surprised the young man. You have to think in a 3-dimensional combat space. Additionally, the speed at which engagement distance can close is surprisingly fast, though the way Ranger Y'ual landed on the far wall made him wince. Being propelled by her own push off the wall and the force of her blast fire caused a lot of acceleration. Those bruises would be deep and purple. Not to mention, the unorthodox firing position of the facilitator. Corran would not have assumed to look towards the ceiling when sweeping a room at first glance.

There were plenty of mistakes made by students and teacher. Some Corran painfully learned in the hallways of the very station they boarded from. Rangers Vickers and Y'ual did not coordinate well. Vickers entered in a room without a clean visual sweep from cover. A shrill cry of sudden death echoed as a Ranger's chest burnt red from a laser blast. Vickers then didn't take immediate cover in response to enemy fire. Sparks flew from an armored chest plate as another Ranger fell to his knees - dead before his face hit the metal floor. Y'ual did not provide covering fire upon encountering hostile resistance. Pale, lifeless eyes staring up from a body slouched against a wall. A hallway of bodies. The instructor didn't anticipate the sudden rush of a pinned opponent and didn't take cover himself. A Ranger screaming in agony, as Corran dragged them by a backpack strap away from a torrent of red light. No. They all made too many mistakes. Too many Outpost Blue didn't forgive.

When the helmeted Ranger directed his question to Bast and Corran, the blond youth was the first to respond, "Sir. While Rangers Y'ual and Vickers had individual skill, to defeat a defensive opponent communication between the offensive unit is critical." The young Ranger's reply was cadet-like, serious, but not arrogant or proud. "A partner should always provide overwatch while the other commits to entry. Once engaged, fire-and-manuever tactics would have allowed Ranger Vickers to relocate or close the distance to eliminate the hostile, sir." It was a near literal by-the-book answer. Documented time and time again in infantry manuals from the Clone Wars, Galactic Civil War, and conflicts beyond. No matter how many generations read those training documents, many of their dictates had to be learned by trial and error. Corran was no exception. Although he had escaped Outpost Blue unscathed, many others did not. They made the same mistakes Vickers, Y'ual, and the instructor had. They wouldn't get the chance wake up though.

Out of the corner of his eye, Corran gave the briefest glance to Bast. He couldn't read her mind, but he knew if his memories were surfacing, hers would be as well. She had been exposed to much worse. The former CorSec officer was tough though and more trained than himself. If anyone saw additional opportunities from the first exercise, and strong enough to push back on old memories, it would be her. That's what Corran believed.

@Kestrel @Darasuum

 

[Bast Emblai]

The abrupt end to the exercise shook the detective out of her absorbed trance. Two were unconscious, one Ranger and one instructor. Although, she supposed, at least one participant would have to be knocked out to complete the task. And... No. She could not think too much about it. The merest suggestion of a thought would send her over the edge. Even now, her weak grip was slipping, metaphorical hands made slick with fearful sweat. Helplessness. Unconsciousness. There was the time she’d woken up from anesthesia, terrified, lost, ‘agressive’ according to the nurse report. Bast could not let herself be stunned. Could not be seen coming to, out of control and scared, stuck in a nightmare. What would Roland think? And Corran? The woman clenched her jaw and set her face in an attempt to stop any emotional reaction. It was too late, however. She could feel the dread building up, clawing at her chest. Fighting to stop the reel of snippets of memory from playing, the woman made an agonizing attempt to turn her attention to the Lieutenant.

He was asking a question. The female Ranger heard the words, but her mind was blank when it came to processing them. As always, her partner had her back and responded first with an eloquent and concise answer. Damn. She‘d better think of something quickly. Gathering together her thoughts was like catching eels. Every time the woman grasped something, it slipped out of her grip. If she had been on a job, Bast would have excused herself, but there was no such luxury now. Frustration began to creep in.

“Rangers Vikkers and Y’ual, while well trained and efficient individuals, failed to communicate and carry out a shared plan, sir. It seemed to me as if they rushed rather than properly inspecting and clearing. It is wise, sir, for one partner to be ready to provide cover fire at any time, as well as to immediately locate a safe area to regroup in.” Only years of knowing the right thing to say in reports or interrogations saved her observations from complete incoherence. It was a policy of Bast’s to review every mission she went on and reflect to develop a nuanced view on the advantages and disadvantages of her tactic. This knowledge would then be compared with literature on strategy to perfect future plans of attack. Unfortunately, it could not save her from everything.

Bast could not resist forever, could not stop her inevitable fall back into the moments of the First Breach Massacre or what followed, but she took solace from Corran’s concerned glance. There was a glimpse of understanding in it. Slipping away into memory was made even easier by her weightlessness. Gripping the cold bar even harder, the woman dug her nails into her hand in an attempt to ground herself, but she could already hear the echo of blaster fire. See... No. Stop. See the lacerated... fight it. See... aurggh... the lacerated chest of the man choking on his own blood, unable to get enough air to scream. He had wanted a mercy kill, but she couldn’t. The Outpost could not claim her life physically, but it was ahold of her mind while she was there.

The tide of memory receded, but there was no telling when it would return. She was shaking and her breaths were quick and shallow. Every part of Bast wanted to approach Roland. Sir, I cannot do this. I am very sorry. But leaving Corran would be cruel. Instead the woman combated the treasonous thought and moved towards him. “Are you ready?” The seemingly innocent question had a second meaning as well. Are you prepared to fight here again? There was so much to say, but none of it would come. No plea for comfort, no reassurance for her partner, no witty commentary, no clever questions for Roland. It would simply have to do.

@Darasuum
@TerranSteel

 

[Roland Rook]

Roland nodded as he listened to Corran's assessment. He had some of his own insight, knowing that sometimes things called for unorthodox measures. But the Lieutenant couldn't think of a way that didn't make it sound like ignoring regulations. The last thing he wanted as to give confusing lessons.

Bast said something similar. "Teamwork is essential but you might not have that luxury at all times. We get injured and then your dragging a fellow ranger through corridors and also taking on an opponent. Now if this had been a real situation with real blasters. Y'ual would have to deal with Vikker's injury from that point on and any other dangers." He didn't want people to also think that their team mates were disposable. This wasn't a game where they should be in the mind set of 'respawning'.

"If you have zero gravity, chances are kark has already hit the fan. But...Rangers Emblai and Velt!" he called over to them motioning for them to get into position. His eyes watched Bast and knew what jitters looked like. He wondered if she had been given a psych eval after what happened on the station. But if she was here, he had to give her credit for facing the trauma.

"You two be-" But the Lieutenant get to finish his sentence as he went flying across the compartment, or rather, the ship suddenly shifted and the wall was flying towards him and anyone else not holding onto something. A siren began to sound and small lights in each chamber began to show red, letting everyone know something had gone wrong. The internal ship announcement system crackled for a moment and the captain's voice came over the line. "Attention all hands. Cease all training exercises. Hostile forces have engaged us. Renabling gravity in five seconds. Brace in three..." The ship shook again. Roland got to his feet and immediatly triggered his magboots with a groan. It was hard since his left shoulder had been dislocated by the sudden movement of the ship moments ago. Another impact came, this time the Lieutenant was prepared for a little better though his balance was off. "...two, one." The artificial gravity came back on Roland's floating cloak, the slack from weapon slings or zipper tassels were affected by the pull down. Everyone would feel the return of the gravity and hopefully found it easier to adjust back to what they were familiar with.

Roland made his way towards the exit of the compartment and headed towards the front of the ship. "Let's get the Vikkers and the Lieutenant to the med-bay. Once they're secure I'll head to the bridge. The rest of you go to the armory and wait there." Training was over.

@TerranSteel @Kestrel

 

[Corran Velt]

It would be a lie to say Corran was not shaken. There were the natural jitters, of course. The ones you felt when trying something new in front of others or feeling the seriousness of a test. Those jitters were standing on a layer of unease. A queasiness caused by the onset of returning to Outpost Blue. Complex emotions of fear, regret, and failure. If only he had been more prepared. If only he had more experience back then. If only he had been on the first landing with Bast. As if summoned by the very thought, the female Ranger approached and asked a simple question that held more depth than even she intended. As much as Corran was her rock, Bast likewise was his; even if she didn’t know it. The two were stronger together – that was an undeniable truth in the young Ranger’s mind. Luck or choice or real grit had solidified that fact. Whenever they were together, everything turned out alright. A soft, confident smirk crept up on Corran’s face, “With you? I’m always ready.”

Lieutenant Rook’s examination of the previous exercise proved educational. Corran realized he had let himself get too tunnel-visioned again. Plans and maneuvers were formulated based on the parameters of the exercise, not on the real-life situation they were intended to emulate. Roland was right – Y’ual and Vikkers had been reckless and Corran would have been too, just in a more rigid way. An unintended lesson, perhaps, but a needed one nonetheless.

At the shout of their names, the blond youth snapped to attention, but held onto the metal rung that kept him upright. Corran was about to kick off due to the motioning of the Mandalorian’s hand to prepare for their turn. The order was cut off mid-sentence by the freighter shuddering roughly and propelling forward. The rapidly shifting hull pushed the young Ranger along with it and he braced his knees against it to prevent being suddenly slammed into the durasteel wall. A ship-wide alert darkened the atmosphere into hews of blinking red and repetitive sirens. The captain’s voice over the inter-comm confirmed the worst: they were under attack. Another hull impact punctuated that point.

When the gravity finally returned, Corran fell to the metal floor with a noticeable cacophony. His gloved hand still clung to the metal bar that supported him moments earlier. The sudden return from weightlessness caught him off guard and with knees against the wall, not feet on the ground. The young Ranger groaned as he propped himself up on an elbow and rubbing his head. The Mandalorian took command and quickly dispensed orders. As if completely reinvigorated, Corran pushed himself back onto his feet and replied crisply, "Yes, sir!"

Vikkers and the instructor were in the corridors at the front of the ship, likely still unconscious (especially if they were still stunned and floating in zero-g when the gravity turned back on and threw them to the floor). The young Ranger saw the armored Mandalorian officer make his way towards the front of the ship and Corran waved at his female partner to follow. With two down for the count, they'd need at least two pairs of hands. That is if the ship held together that long. To think, the Sector Rangers had worked so hard in blood and material to cleanse this system of pirates and they still came under attack.

@Darasuum @Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

Out of the corner of her eye, Bast noticed the Lieutenant had been watching her, or at least she assumed so despite the fact his eyes were not visible behind his helmet. The woman was under the impression he was quietly analysing her, a thought that took her back to her cadet days and made her rather uncomfortable. Not that there was anything to hide, really, except perhaps the occasional panic or flashback. Clearly, she had not hidden those well enough, however. She was afraid that if studied too closely, her behavior would be that of a volatile woman rather than a competent and efficient Sector Ranger. There was a fine balance between distance and aloofness, ambition and aggression, vigilance and paranoia. Walking the cable of perfection, so to speak, was the detective’s constant struggle. Corran’s answer steadied her.

Good partners were hard to come by. It was not because the Rangers were particularly bad at their job or disagreeable. The female officer had worked with half a dozen decent partners, but none were her partner the way Corran was. Personalities, energy levels, humor, and method had to match. Then trust had to be built and maintained. With the blond man, she had endured a trial by fire. It was no surprise Bast trusted him with her life.

The combined sudden lurch of the ship and inertia of the woman’s body violently wrenched her grip from the bar. She careened almost directly into her would-be companion for the exercise, narrowly missing crushing him against the wall. Sirens blared. The woman’s heart was in her throat. Strobing lights made it impossible for her eyes to adjust, leaving her in alternate rounds of blinding brightness and impenetrable dark. So this was why it was recommended pilots could maneuver around their ship with their eyes closed. Everything felt simultaneously over stimulating and unreal. It had to be a vivid nightmare. But it wasn’t. Corran and Roland were there. Orn and her twelve men were not. Where were they? There was pain in her head and something warm and sticky in her hair, but it was not the pain of being pinned to the ground. There was no cold floor behind a torn shirt. No boots or fists or shock collars. An overhead announcement punctuated the panic, announcing an attack.

Gravity returned and the detective flopped to the ground, completely unprepared and sporting a pallor of pale grey, fighting nausea once more as the lunchtime rations churned in her stomach and her vision spun. A groan escaped her lips, echoed by another. Ice ran through the woman’s veins. Was someone else hurt? No one else would die near the outpost. It simply was not an option. Bast would give every part of herself up again before the attackers could lay hands on anyone else. A strange, cold courage filled her. “Sir, consider the task completed.“ Roland was extraordinarily good at hiding the pain, but his arm hung loosely, the shoulder jutting at an odd angle. He should likely relocate it himself, but it would be quicker if someone assisted. “Let me help with the shoulder, sir.”

Following Corran through the shifting halls, the female ranger spotted a limp body, that of the Lieutenant. A small pool of blood was forming around his face, which was pressed against the floor. Blood. So much blood, all released from a slit carotid. The life drained out before her very eyes. Bile began to rise in her throat. The resemblance to a recently deceased person was so uncanny that she knelt to check his pulse. The beat was faint but steady. No apparent injuries except a bleeding nose, broken by the fall. “He’s fine.” There was no mistaking the relief in the shaky voice. “Let’s move.” Hands lifted the body, and a command left her mouth, but her hazel eyes were still distant. The damn station couldn’t take her life.

@Darasuum
@TerranSteel

 

[Roland Rook]

Reflexively, Roland pulled the shoulder away from Bast, not wanting her to touch him. After a moment where he stared at her from behind his visor he allowed her to assist. He grunted in pain as the popping sound accompanied the act of relocating his shoulder. This wasn't the time to be overly picky about physical contact anyways. He would get it checked out fully after this was over. There wasn't time to worry about making sure a licensed professional administered medical attention. "Thanks."

With his shoulder relocated, Roland carried one to the med-bay alone. An occasional shudder shook the ship as he quick-stepped his way through the corridors. The sight of other crew members moving about amidst whatever combat was happening told him the situation was serious. They were passangers onboard the drone barge. This was the captain's vessel and the rest of them were passengers.

Ultimatly they found their way to the med bay and deposited the injured there. The Mandalorian didn't mention his injury and instead headed directly towards the bridge. Bast and Corran volunteered to assist with carrying Vikkers though Y'ual was still with them. She had not been there when he had given the orders after all. "Join up with the others at the armory." He told her.

The other two, Rangers Emabli and Velt, had been showing signs of post trauma stress disorder since before the excersise began. Roland wanted to keep an eye on them. "Attention all hands. Prepare to repel boarders. We are being boarded. Expect depressurization in compartment 2-C and 1-D. Brace for shock!" Roland immediatly grabbed hold of the nearest rung and felt the dual shudder of separate impacts. "The bridge is going to have to wait. Let's move." He said to the Rangers that had stayed with him before moving back aft and up a deck.

@TerranSteel @Kestrel

 

[Corran Velt]

Bast was the first to see it. She seemed to stiffen and stare, forcing Corran to follow her eyes to the body on the floor. The Lieutenant from the first exercise was face down in an alarming pool of dark scarlet. While intrinsically terrifying at first glance, it did mean that the officer had not been shot to death by conventional arms. The hull was intact, so shrapnel couldn't have wounded them either. Recovering whatever gave her pause, Bast checked for signs of life and took charge. In unspoken orders, Corran nodded to his partner and helped lift the unconscious instructor and get moving to med-bay. In times like these, their hard-earned intrinsic communication was a blessing and a curse. The blond youth could tell the events were impacting Bast, but knew she was soldiering on despite it. Lieutenant Rook hefted the stunned Ranger Vikkers all on his own. Whatever the Mandalorian did to achieve that immense strength, Corran was determined to find out.

Crew dashed to and fro, passed the encumbered Sector Rangers. The ship shuddered and groaned from impacts or evasive maneuvers. A chaotic scene that added to that uncertain, sinking feeling that came from not knowing what was going on. The Rangers felt like detached marines; not quite part of the crew but aboard the ship. None of the crew members were sprinting for the escape pods yet, so that was a calming sign. Med bay was in no better condition than the disorderly hallways. A handful of medical staff were handling the various wounded that they could. The addition of two unconscious Rangers didn’t ease their burden. Roland sent Ranger Y’ual to the armory, which supplied the blond youth with envy. He only had the trusty, unloaded, blaster pistol with an ascension-mod. Quick wits and quick fists weren’t a lot to go on, but he’d rely on them if necessary.

With the injured off their hands, the situation finally gave some breathing room for Corran to check on his Corellian partner. Crisis was hard enough on the nerves, but he knew Bast might be fighting more demons than anyone else. His gloved hand reached out to grab her shoulder reassuringly, but hesitation took hold, like carbonite. His voice would have to carry the weight. “Bast - !” Corran’s voice was cut off by the Captain’s warning over the internal comms. The sudden, kinetic impact caused what felt like the whole galaxy to shake. With nothing to brace against, the young Ranger was swept off his feet like some invisible being kicking his ankles out from under him. His body hitting the metal floor sounded like a bass drum, reverberating across the sheen surface. Corran groaned on the floor, rubbing what certainly would be bruises on his side in the future. If he survived this.

Lieutenant Rook’s orders took precedent over feeling sorry for himself, so Corran pushed off the now steadier floor back to his feet and jogged to catch back up. Silver-lining, if there was one, was that the attackers wanted to capture the ship if they were boarding. A fighting chance was all the Rangers needed.

As the trio made their way up a deck to one of the stated enemy boarding areas, crew members were streaming the opposite direction. Some were limping along with aid from another, and some others looked confused at the Rangers for heading towards danger. Someone had to. The closer they got to the areas the Captain warned about, the fewer crew members they saw until eventually it was just them and the warning lights. In the quieter atmosphere, Corran ceased jogging and began more methodically advancing along the corridor walls. That indescribable sixth sense in combat warned of intruders. Coming to a T-junction, heavy footfalls could be heard down the left hallway. Barely peeping an eye around the corner before slinking back, the young man raised a fist. Four fingers raised. Four combatants. The boarders were in fully sealed suits, hiding any details about them besides that they were humanoid and armed with blaster carbines. The blond youth glanced back to the more armed Rangers nearby and raised his own chargeless weapon. Whatever they were going to do, it would have to be fast.

@Darasuum @Kestrel