OOC:

 
Joamer
Heavy Weapons
Level 1: Cover Tactics
Story 2: Indirect Fire Operations

  The rumble of a very old, out of date, barely working HAVw A6 Juggernaught echoed for miles.

  Corporal Joamer of Wraith Squad sat in the drivers seat and bounced wildly in multiple directions. The loud screeching from three of the eight axles vibrated inside his head, his left eye had begun twitching.

  He had managed to purchase this vehicle at a low cost, the reason for which had become clear the moment he started the radion 223-cyuil engine. Not only had every thing even remotely considered a weapon been removed, it sounded like half the engine had also. None-the-less he had bought it, probably only for the quad-mounted mass driver model rail-guns. He already had plans to rip out the rail-gun assembly and put it on a starship of some type.

  Unlucky enough for him he had a long slow drive back to his squads current barracks. So when his comlink beeped and told him to report to firing range alfa six six one, his mood has grown from bad to murderous. He had tried arguing the fact he was off duty, had none of his weapons, and was not prepared for a test of any type. The crackling reply was simply "Do not argue, just get here."

  So he turned around, started back in the same direction he had been driving for the past two hours and headed four hours the other way. By the time he parked, shut down the engine and climbed to the ground his nerves were gone, his left eye had long since danced every dance known to the universe, and if a frog jumped wrong he would have blown half the planet up that instant.

  "I received the highest marks in long range artillery fire in the past five years," A very young fresh faced, private said as he walked over." So I was given an instructor position right out of the Academy. Now come with me Corporal."


  No name, Joamer thought, they never give me their blasted names, but they always seem to know mine.


  "The object today is simple, a third day recruit can hit the designated targets within two shots. The records state that you did not go through any indirect fire exercises while in the Academy. Why is that?" The instructor said.


  "I was training to be a commando, I didn't see any need to waste time on something I wasn't likely to ever use."


  "Well, be that as it may, today you will use it. This," He said pointing to the mortar gun secured to the ground." Is a Merr-Sonn MobileMortar-3, usually its attached to a WW-676 repulsorlift platform, but for this firing range its stationary."

  Since this is for beginners Joamer thought, his temper long since shot.


  "Five targets are a half kilometer away, placed three hundred yards apart. The wind is none-existent right now, so it should be simple shots. Hit all five targets and your free to go." The instructor said as he handed a simple datapad, a pair of binoculars, and the control pad for the mortar, to Joamer before walking off.


  Simple enough he thought, set the angel and power level, set the coordinates, and fire. So he did, a soft thump echoed around as the mortar fired a single shell, that went horribly off target.


  "You have to adjust for the firing arc, and the ablation rate for the rounds you are using." The instructor shouted.


  "That doesn't account for the fact the round missed by a quarter of a mile." He growled under his breath as he readjusted, then checked the datapad for the current rounds ablation rate.


  "225.35, ok then, so what does that mean. It needs more power maybe?" He muttered as he cranked the power up some, and fired again.


  And like last time, he missed horribly.


  "Single shot, none explosive rounds. No nice explosion radius to save the day here." He fumed as he tried to figure the firing arc needed to actually get to within a hundred yards of one of the targets. Thinking he had figured it out, he reloaded and fired again, only to be yet again blessed with utter failure.


  "Why can't I even remotely get close? I can shoot a three foot wide target at two klicks, but I can't get to within a walking distance of one of these damnable targets!" He shouted at no one in particular. He readjusted again, checking the designated fire arc required in this situation for this particular round, and fired again. This time coming somewhat closer, at least he could see the crater and the target without moving his head.

  He sat down then, pulled out the datapad, began running calculations, attempting to figure out what he was doing wrong. With no wind to factor in, the calculations were simple, you could do them in seconds, the manual said on line one.

  So he sat, for nearly ten minutes figuring out the settings, then doing it all over again to make sure. This time he was going to hit the target dead center. Standing up he inputted the correct power setting, the angel, the fire arc, and made adjustments for the ablation rating of the round. Then he pulled the trigger and watched the round sail off and make contact, with a group of trees way off course.


  Screaming he tossed down the datapad, and walked over to his HAVw A6, jumped into the gunners seat and initiated the start-up sequence of the quad mounted mass-driver rail-guns. The sound of the Lorentz class C-1 generators starting up reverberated through the floor, the soft hum of the electromagnets engaging joined in. Compared to the engine itself, it was quiet in the juggernaught.

  He engaged only one of the ten magazines, each holding somewhere between fifteen to twenty thousand rounds of concentrated plasma. Noticing the range finder was shot, he quickly keyed in the required firing arc, and brought the power levels to below minimum, since the rail-guns were used primarily in space and over hugely vast distances. Flipping the safety systems to stand-by, he set the fire sequence to last until the magazine was empty.

  Smiling suddenly he hit the fire button. Hundreds of soft thums echoed around him as the quad rail-guns unleashed sixteen thousand eight hundred thirty four rounds of plasma, directly onto the five targets, or so the shot counter read on his display, as he shut down the fire controls and climbed into the drivers seat.


  Keying on the ignition sequence the engine roared to life just as his comlink crackled "Not badly done, for your first time. Unique solution to the problem though. I'll speak with your superiors about your evaluation." The instructor said as a orange glow illuminated the horizon where the five targets had been.


  Setting a course for the barracks he engaged the throttle and prepared for a very long trip back home.

Passed - Rogueboy

OOC:

                                                              Joamer
                                                        Heavy Weapons
                                                    Level 2: Precision Marksmanship
                                    Story 2: Range Finding & Advanced Vector Calculation 

                         


The classroom had an open airy feel to it, large windows opened out into a vast vista of countryside, perfect for the long shots snipers were known for. The instructor was pacing up and down in front of a group of fresh faced cadets going on and on about vector finding, wind calculation, angle of downward drift. The students looked lost, most still had the academy uniforms on, a few others had survival suits and one even had the standard issue trooper armor.

  "Class, let's try this question, let us say your scope malfunctions, your range finder becomes damaged, you have a target at one thousand yards, how do you make the shot?" The instructor said as he stopped pacing.


  "Law of sines!" One student yelled out.

  "Use geometry" another one blurted.


  "No no, use trigonometry." yet another one said.


  "The law of sines is trigonometry." the first one corrected.


"You bloody well guess." someone in the back said.


    The instructor looked up at the one who said that, the whole class turned to stare. He had been standing in the back, dressed in stealth black clone commando armor, his helmet was sitting on a table near him, two DC-15s pistols sat in holsters on his hips and a highly modified DC-15 rifle was propped on the wall behind him.


  "In the classroom using long winded equations and datapads to compute the angle, and distance is all well and good. Out, in the thick of things, when your friends are being shot, you do not have time for it. You take your best guess and fire, use the one hundred yard process, imagine one football field and keep adding to it. You will not get it exact but it will be close. Some teachers who have never seen battle, who were promoted directly from the Academy will try to teach you the law of sines, or some other equation to find the distance, during time it takes for you to work it all out your friend has been shot." the one in black said.

  "He is right," the instructor said a few seconds later, deep scars crossed his face and arms as he paced the room. "Some will try to teach you things, things the book tells you to. In the end in all comes down to a guess and some luck. Let us take this lecture to the field, gather your things and meet me at the transport."

  The class began gathering their items, most of them standard issue sniper rifles. The one in black just shock his head as he picked up his helmet and his rifle. Walking to the transport he found a seat in the back and sat down, placing the rifles butt end on the ground and his helmet beside him. His armor hid his body, but underneath his arms and legs were cybernetic, a carbon freezing accident that had happened a long time ago, his head was completely bald, his eyes held the look of someone who had seen things most people only read about, he had the look of a Commando.


  The instructor walked up a few minutes later and stood in front of him "You do not have to stand up, I know your type, you despise teachers and the new recruits. I do not blame you, I was like you once. After I came back from a long mission I saw the sorry shape our new snipers were in, book taught robots you would only get people killed. So I took it upon myself to train them. Now, I am about the only sniper instructor left. You are Joamer, formally of Wraith squad. I have your papers here, you are now assigned to Iron Horse, an advanced recon squad. Not as crazy as the Wraith, but still they live on the edge."

  The students, by this time, had filed into the speeder and sat down, the pilot took off and angled west, the sun slid slowly into the horizon as night fell.

  "Night time shooting," the instructor said after awhile. "Those of you with standard issue scopes will find they don't work so well here, some type of inference with the electronics. Those of you with the more advanced varieties, will need to leave them behind."

  Two others beside Joamer began to release the clasps on their rifles, sliding the scopes off they set them in storage bins under their sits, Joamer slid his into a holster on his back.

  Standing up as the speeder touched group, the class made their way to the range, off in the distance the vague shapes of targets could just be seen.

  "Hit your target five times at any point and you are free to go, speeders are waiting to take you to your barracks. You have until the sun comes up to complete this exercise." the instructor said as he left, remote sense pods sprang into life as the students took stances.

    Joamer and a few others laid down and got comfortable, pulling a set of night vision goggles from a compartment on his armor he turned them on and slid them over his eyes, glancing down the range he nearly swore, the electronic interference even played havoc with simple night vision. Sliding the goggles off he placed them beside him and took up his rifle, sliding a simple scope onto the rifle he glanced down range and began guessing.


  In the dark is was hard to tell but he figured the targets were about eight hundred fifty yards away, a long shot but not impossible, he had made shots over two thousand yards before. Setting the power, angle, and single shot, he made his choice and fired, his very old DC-15 had been modified heavily over the years, the normal blue streak that had occurred when it was fired was long gone, the noise it made when fired was gone, now only a soft thrum was heard as the nearly invisible energy bolt raced down range and found it's mark.

    Spending well over two hundred thousand credits was worth it when his rifle was considered a very decent rifle by the top marksmen in the Empire, squeezing off another shot in quick succession he angled to another target, this time it was at nine hundred yards, he squeezed the trigger and moved to the target, this one was roughly nine hundred fifty yards, he squeezed the trigger and moved to the final target this was at nearly one thousand two hundred fifty yards, a very difficult shot in the dark setting what he guessed was the proper angle, he set the power level and fired.

    Standing up he made his way to the instructor, by this time the two other seasoned snipers had finished, the instructor only nodded and pointed towards five sniper rifles used by trainees. "We know you lot can hit a target with some of the best rifles the army has. Let us try it with the basic variety. Hit five targets and this time you can go."


  Walking over to the table Joamer shock his head, the rifles were the very basic you could find anywhere. There was no scope, no power settings, or range settings.

"With these," One of the seasoned snipers said " it will be difficult to even reach those targets. Knowing the course criteria everything it going to come into play to even hit the targets."


Picking up one of the rifles and a couple magazines, Joamer walked back over to hit spot and lied down. Setting up the rifle he aimed down range and began running calculations in his head. It had been so long since he had had to do this he realized he was a bit rusty. Taking a guess at the wind, and what distance the bullet would travel before it began it's downward journey, he angled above the target and squeezed the trigger.

  Picking up a pair of microbinoculars he zoomed in on the target and mumbled to himself "Off center by two degrees, but, not bad for a cold bore shot."

Picking up the rifle again he angled for the second target, running a quick trig equation in his head he squeezed the trigger. Zooming in down range with the microbinoculars he nodded, bullseye.

  Aiming for the third and forth targets he set the angle and fired off two shots in quick succession. Starring down range, trying to mentally will the final target to come closer he began mumbling to himself again. "Long shot this time, with no scope, almost a bloody mile away." Shaking his head he ran the calculations three times, before picking up the rifle, aiming down range he just shock his head, took a deep breath, held it, and squeezed the trigger.

  His comlink buzzed a second later "Good job, tricky shots in the dark with no scope. But, you have proven you are a decent sharpshooter. The speeders are waiting."