Recertification Day One
Posted on Fri May 6th, 2022 @ 11:02am by Captain Samuel Woolheater
Mission:
MISSION 0 - History Speaks
Location: Saturn VI - Titan - Camp Margrave
Timeline: The Past - More than a week ago
Tags: Margrave, Titan, Hall, M107
1525 words - 3.1 OF Standard Post Measure
[ON: Titan – The Sixth Moon of Saturn – Sol Sector - SFMC Scout Sniper School]
=== THE PAST ===
STARFLEET MARINE CORPS SCOUT SNIPER SCHOOL –
TWENTY-THIRD REGIMENT –
SATURN VI – TITAN”
----------
CLOSE-QUARTERS COMBAT
DIRECT SUPPORT OF INFANTRY AND RECONNAISSANCE UNITS
RECONNAISSANCE
SPECIAL OPERATIONS COMMAND
MOUNTAIN WARFARE TRAINING CENTER
TRAINING AND EDUCATION COMMAND
MARINE CORPS INTERSTELLAR SPACE TRAINING CENTER
SFMC REGIONAL COMBATANT COMMAND
MARINE CORPS COMBAT DEVELOPMENT COMMAND
SFMC SYSTEMS COMMAND
“Where old dogs learn new tricks!”
2ND Lieutenant Samuel Woolheater stepped off the transport with another forty marines who had just arrived at Camp Margrave. The sign that greeted them was large, plain, and direct. In his hand was his duffle bag and what he wore on his back. He stood in a queue waiting to be processed.
=== LATER ===
Sam found his berth and put his duffle on the floor, hung up his gear in the slim locker and laid down on the bottom bunk. He was tired from the trip. He had just closed his eyes and nodding off when he heard someone stop near the bunk.
“Hey? You Woolheater?” a voice said.
Sam opened his eyes to see a younger man looking at him.
“Yup” he replied.
“Sweet. I’m 2nd Lt. Hall. Mason Hall. I’m your spotter” he said smiling.
Sam extended his hand but didn’t get up, “Pleased to meet you. I’m Sam.”
Taking his hand and giving a firm shake the younger man sat down on the edge of the bunk. “You just get here?”
“A little while ago. I was just going to catch a few winks” Sam said dropping the hint.
Taking the hint, Mason said, “No prob. I’ll let you rest. You must have come in on the last transport. If you’re up for it I’ll save you a seat in the commissary. Later. If you’re hungry?”
Sam answered, “Sounds good. Thanks. Yeah, I just need a few minutes. Hurry up and wait is the order of the day.”
“Catch you later then” Mason got up and left the bunk area.
=== THE NEXT DAY ===
After a morning debrief, it was time to get recertified. After pairing up and dividing the gear between them, the teams were broken up with each platoon having four spotters and four shooters, eight-man platoons. Today, it was long-range certification.
“HALL. WOOLHEATER. GET YOUR WEAPONS!” the armorer barked at them.
“Aww c’mon man! You gotta be shitting me!” Sam said as he was handed an M107.
“Do you see me grinning? Do you see a smile on my face?” the armorer said. “Sign here.”
Samuel signed for the weapon. “Shhhhheeet!” And he took the M107.
The M107 Precision Marksmanship Phaser is designed as a long-range energy weapon. Its carrier signal, unlike other phaser weapons, uses the X-Ray spectrum rather than the visible light spectrum thus producing no waste visible light. Due to this unusual carrier signal, the M107 consumes power at a phenomenal rate. Each rechargeable standard weapon power pack produces 10 pulses. Each pulse is .01 of a second. Each pulse will pierce the target
with a 20 mm (.79 inch) hole out to ranges of 3.22 km (2 miles). The lack of waste visible light should help marksmen avoid counter-sniper fire and the extremity of the range should render sonic detection something of a moot point. Physically, the M107 appears as a slightly longer barreled T116-A2 with a much heavier scope assembly and a bipod.
“HALL! COMBAT TRICORDER. TYPE III-C PHASER RIFLE. SIGN HERE!” the order was barked.
Mason signed for the gear. They picked up field rations and water and extra energy packs. It was all wrapped up in a bundle. Secured with a blanket and two or three sand pillows to prop the weapon once out on the range. They were required to each carry their gear on their shoulder and then jog to the range. 2500 meters (1.55 miles) from where they would be dropped off.
=== A LITTLE LATER – THE DROP OFF POINT ===
100% of the Camp was terra-formed. Some sections of the camp were underground. In the large vaults that had been carved out of the surface. The domes that allowed Marines to practice on the surface were huge. The transport rolled away and the eight marines hoisted their gear on to their shoulders and did a steady jog to the range. They arrived by 0800.
=== THE RANGE ===
There were eight sections here. Enough room for everybody. The area was an open field, somewhat grassy. A mile away to a mile and a half there was a tree line. In between the trees were the targets. Mason and Sam had taken their spots. Mason sat on a folding camp stool. He had the combat tricorder in his right hand. In his left, he held field glasses. He used a tripos to steady the field glasses on.
Sam lay on his stomach, his legs spread wide as he lay prone on the ground. The M107 was not a “standard issue” weapon. That was the point. The TR-116 was the “standard issue” but they wanted him, and other scout snipers trained on a variety of arms. There was a slight breeze, it was a little after 1000 hours. Sam lay still. Mason, silently watched through the field glasses. Mason said, “Take the shot?” in a quiet voice.
Sam said, “Mmm-hmmm….” And he slowly squeezed the trigger. The M107 had such a kickback from the discharge of the energy pulse. His whole body down to his waist recoiled from the pressure. Sam continued to lay still and silent waiting for Mason. “That was too high again Sam. Top of the target…. like…...just giving it a haircut.”
The combat tricorder calculated the distance as the target reset and moved to the right four meters and a meter higher than before. Mason said, “A meter higher. That recoil looks messy?”
Sam slowly opened the power chamber to allow the spent energy coil to fall out. It rolled out with a red hot glow.”
Mason looked over at his shooter, “You out?”
“Nuh uh. I got two left. Then your ass is up” Sam answered.
Mason took a drink of water as Woolheater reset. “You’re at 88%. Hit this one dead on and that’ll put you in 90’s territory.” Sam was quiet. He looked through the sight and slowed his breathing down. His heartbeat was causing him to pulse as he lay still. He exhaled. He sighted the target and centered on it. A few tall wisps of field grass blown by the wind came into view on his sight.
The marine team on the stall next to him fired. The shot rang out. Sam waited. He slowly started to squeeze the trigger.
Mason watched through the glasses, and he heard the combat tricorder start to beep that the time was running out. He silenced it. Sam held the target in his sight and this time he aimed for just a hair under dead center. The grass blew again and he squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out.
“Dead on. Hot damn.” Mason said as the combat tricorder recorded the marksman and calculated the next target.
The marines on the other side of Hall took their shot. Sam could hear them talking softly and he didn’t know how they were doing.
Woolheater opens the firing chamber to let the spent coil fall out. Using just his right thumb to operate the weapon. He closed the chamber and loaded the tenth and final round. Mason said, “91% we’re in the 90’s. If you get this one we can get upper 90’s for long-range.” Sam said, “If?” Mason smiled but never took his eyes off the target. “Yes. Your majesty.”
Sam was smiling on the inside. His muscles ached from being prone and having 15 to 20 pounds of recoil hit his shoulder and his face and neck.
He reset. He inhaled a deeper breath. Mason looked over, “Tired?”
“Mmmmm” Sam said. “No…”
Minutes passed and they were quiet. Sam sighted the target again and it was hovering. Every sixty seconds it rotated and moved slightly. Sam was really focused. He exhaled, slowly and deliberately. Silently. He squeezed. The shot rang out and the tenth recoil sent a shock into his upper body.
Mason watched the target explode. “Fuckin’ dead on! Yeah. That’s how we do that! No danger of breaking any records today my shooter man.”
Sam slowly rolled over as he let the weapon out of his hands and arms. Just resting on the tripod and the ground. The sandbags helped to secure the footing of the M107. His arm muscles ached but he felt good. He took a deep breath and felt the tension leave his body. Mason offered him a hand and to his feet.
Out of respect for the other three teams, they were quiet and watched. Mason handed Sam the field glasses and the combat tricorder. Mason let the last spent coil fall out and onto the ground. The combat tricorder calculated their rankings. Hall & Woolheater stood at 94th percentile. Not a bad day.
[OFF:]
2nd Lieutenant, Samuel Woolheater
“Saepius Exertus, Semper Fidelis, Frater Infinitas”
===UNASSIGNED===
