OOC:

 
Joamer
Heavy Weapons
Level 2: Precision Marksmanship
Story 1: Precision Range Shooting

       




            Darkness.

  A Wraith survived in darkness, or he died. That was what he was told when he first joined. This was his
element, a moonless, overcast sky covered the southern hemisphere of Tadath. His name was Joamer,
Corporal, Wraith Commando. He was kneeling beside a tall oak tree in modified kytarn clone commando
armor, it was painted stealth black, a normality among his squad.

  Outside his helmet the world was sheathed in black, you could barely see a foot in front of you, but not
for him. Night vision mode enhanced his viewing ten fold. He was ordered to report to this location for
more training, in his hands he held a heavily modified DC-15 rifle, it was currently setup as a long-range
sniper rifle. He was just waiting now.

  His comlink clicked sometime afterwards "Commando, your late. Report to HQ for reassignment,
obviously you cannot handle this job."

  He clicked the mic once, then resumed the waiting.

  "Was that you? Maybe it was, you Wraiths are all the same. Bunch of hotheaded gun wielding madmen."
An instructor said rather angrily.

  Smiling he clicked the mic a second time.

  "Fine, all the weapons are set for stun only. If you are captured or shot you fail. Theres thirteen targets in
the town, take them all down. Proceed with your mission."

  Bringing the weapon to bear he zoomed in on the town, nothing major, he noted, two buildings, one transport, and
a lot of lights. Laying down he brought the power setting to the highest range, and keyed the round for
silent shot. Looking at the range finder he mumbled to himself quietly, one thousand four hundred one meter to the farthest point, just under a mile.


  Studying the readouts on his HUD he makes the proper adjustments and squeezed the trigger, a very silent thud sounded as the first target went down. Angling around slightly he adjusted the power setting and fired again. The second form landed near the first a few seconds later, no alarm as of yet. Readjusting his aim a small fraction he shot again just as a third figure stepped out from behind one of the buildings. Unfortunately this one did not go down quietly, his rifle had fired out a couple shots as he fell to the ground.

  Now the remaining men went into full alert status, they quickly setup a defensible position among the corners of the buildings and inside the doorways. Flipping the switch from single to semi-auto he brought the rifle to bear on a group of four men scanning the forest line with macrobinoculars. To bad they were looking in the wrong location, four unconscious forms joined the previous three. 

  Suddenly the line of trees half of a click away erupted into flames.

  So much for stun only, he swore.

  Standing up and holstering the DC-15, he began commando running towards the town, using the various trees for cover. Approaching the last tree before open ground he drew his DC-15s pistol and took assessment of the situation. Seven targets down, six left.

  Reaching behind him he pulled out a silencer and locked it into place on the pistol. 

  Quickly making his way to the corner of the building he shot one of the remaining men leaning out of the doorway. He then ducked around the corner as another one jumped over the unconscious form and began firing in the wrong direction. Squeezing the trigger again he downed him then quickly ran to the other end of the building. No pursuit followed as he waited around the corner, quietly making his way to the last building he kicked the door in and threw in a stun grenade. But, no one was inside.

  Running for all he was worth he made it to the tree line and dove for cover just as several shots seared the air above his head.

  Four remaining, he thought. But, where are they.

  Just then the engines of the small transport roared to life as he sped across the ground towards the road. Holstering his pistol he brought the rifle to bear and sighted down the scope. Completely enclosed, not good, he mumbled to himself.

  Switching from stun to low yield he aimed for the exposed engine, keyed for maximum range, and got a decent lead on the target then fired three shots. The engine spluttered the died, the transport drifted slowly to the ground, and refused to move no matter how many times the four men inside it tried to coax the engine back to life. Glancing at his HUD's range finder he nearly swore, almost two thousand meters, well over a mile this time.

  Slapping in an extra power cell, he switched to maximum range and single shot. Making a quick calculation he figured he would get three shots before the cooling system gave out. Flipping over to stun, he sighted down the scope and waited for the men to emerge.

  They did, a few minutes later, all three from different hatches and into three different directions. Breathing slowly he got a good lead on one of the men and fired, angling around as the man fell to the ground, he watched the second man run, he became one with his movements and fired again.

  A warning light about dangerous heat buildup flashed on his HUD, sighting down the scope he watched as the last man ran, he slowed his breathing, got a lead on him, and waited for that perfect shot. Squeezing the trigger a few moments later he watched as the arc of blue struck the last man square on the back and he dropped to the ground.

  "Clear." He said into his comlink. Standing up he walked into the small town and holstered his rifle.

    Two men rode up in a speeder bike and began going over the data from the various sensor pods in the
area.

  "Good work, looks like you pulled it off, though someone with your experience in the commando trade
should of done better." One of the instructors said.


  Just then the comlink began receiving a system wide order from HQ "Attention, attention. This is a level
one security alert. All members of Wraith Squad are hereby under arrest. All security personnel use
extreme caution. Call for backup before you attempt even a single arrest. HQ out."

  "Hey, aren't you a Wraith?" The instructor said as he turned around, but the Commando had already
vanished into the night.

Passed - Rogueboy

OOC:

 
Joamer
Heavy Weapons
Level 3: Weapons and Electronic Repair
Story 2: Armament Maintenance and Repair

  The ship dropped the last meter to the landing pad with a soft thud. Slapping the release key for the hatch, Joamer and the rest of the squad disembarked before the pilot closed the hatch and took off for parts unknown. No one talked to each other, this mission would be one of the ones that was not on public records, he did not even know who the other people were.

Walking away he felt his DLT-20A shift slightly on his back, the sling that allowed him to swing the weapon in front of him in a half second dug at his left shoulder. He was dead tired, they had been on the go for four days, and no one had gotten any sleep.

Looking around he noticed for the first time where the ship had deposited them, it was the public entrance to the base, in front of him stood the Storm Trooper Academy. Muttering to himself that he would have to pass through that building to get to a transport on the other side, he walked forward and entered the gigantic building.

Cadets ran back and forth to classes, some of them in pristine white armor. Most of them starred at him when he passed, his Katarn Clone Commando armor was pitch black, he still had his helmet on, and the blue T-plate glowed in the early morning light. He knew he was filthy, the planet they had been on was a swamp, and he knew he must of smelled on top of that.

Everyone moved aside when he walked, maybe out of respect, or maybe they saw him stumble for an instant due to fatigue. He disliked this building sometimes, and in others he missed it. He had been a Training Adviser for a long time, and after that he had been promoted to Drill Instructor. Months ago he was given his discharge papers, at the bottom they had read the Academy was being 'reformatted' he did not bother to complain.

This was one of those times he disliked the building, to tell the truth he disliked everything right now. All he wanted to do was get back to his barracks, take a hot shower and sleep for two days. Seeing a instructor step in front of him he held back a curse. The insignia on his uniform made him a 1st Lieutenant, which meant being a justy lowly senior sergeant, or even being a former instructor himself would not permit him to side step this injustice that was about to be done.

Unlocking the helmets clasps he removed it and came to attention. The Lieutenant waited several long moments before motioning for him to follow.

Joamer tried to ignore the murderous thoughts entering his head, but after being on the go for so long he could not help it. He imagined drawing his frontier model B pistol and shooting him in the back, not very honorable. He imagined unsheathing one of his vibro knives and sliding it across his neck, messy.

By the time the instructor stopped at a door Joamer's thoughts had ceased, he instead turned to that quiet calm inside of him that would allow him to get past these next few torturous hours.

Not bothering to salute Joamer opened the door and stepped inside. The class was about to begin, so with a sigh he set down his helmet on a table and sat down. Unhooking his rifles sling he slipped it around his shoulders and sat it down in front of him.

The teacher began lecturing on basic blaster theory, Joamer tuned him out but kept up the appearance he was paying attention. He imagined his somewhat soft bed back in his room, he imagined seeing his Strills cry as she flew across the room into his arms.

Hearing low snickering Joamer came back to the present and looked around, the whole class had turned to stare at him the instructor had a small smile on his face, but his eyes head a deep sympathy in them.

"I know they grabbed you right after a mission, and for that I'm sorry. For the sake of the records try to pay attention." He said, his eyes gave the story he could not tell. Joamer felt a kind of respect for this man, he had been a Trooper himself, the scars on his head and hands told the story.

Nodding a bit Joamer leaned back and tried to not fall asleep.

"Good then, explain Blaster Theory to the class. Explain the differences between the internal components of an E-11 and your DLT-20a." He said.

Sighing Joamer said "Blasters come in a variety of shapes and sizes, you have your pistols up to the huge ship mounted weapon systems. Their function however remains the same throughout the size and power range."

Taking a breath he continued "Even a turbo laser cannon works the same as a holdout blaster. They function by emitting blaster gas, usually tibanna or its equivalent, into a chamber. This chamber is where the blaster's power source excites the gas, the weapons actuating module converts the energized gas into a particle or plasma projectile. The prismatic crystal focuses the beam, converting it into a projectile."

The class starred at him in stunned silence, several of them had books open trying to find that information but by the looks on their faces was not being successful.

"Close your books, those things they give you show a laboratories report on the ways things operate. What our Trooper here just told you is correct. If you know how to work on a holdout blaster, you in theory can work on a turbo laser cannon. They are all the same, just some are use really big components." The instructor said as he walked back and forth in front of the class.

After waiting for several students to write down what was just said he continued "Now, we get to the fun part. Maintenance schedules and repair. The book says every one hundred hours of service, this is false. If you have any down time at all, before you even pull off your boots or grab something to eat you do basic repairs to your weapons. This just means cleaning the outside, charging the power cells and marking sure the sight is still in sync."

"Just do not open up the blaster in the middle of a war zone. I've seen more then one trooper die to a surprise attack when his or her rifle was in pieces in front of them." Joamer added.

"Correct, now mounted on the walls are several types of blasters, all have seen action in recent months, and all of them need a thorough cleaning. Find one you would like and get to work." The teacher said.

For the first time Joamer looked around the room, it was a huge room. On the left wall from end to end stood shelves eight feet high filled with rifles, parts, and accessories. On the front wall opposite the door stood a huge board filled with schematics and 3d holos of the internal components of rifles. On the right wall stood the teachers desk, behind it sat pictures of his armor and awards he was given. The awards section stood nearly empty, some would say he had never seen action, but for one like Joamer who was used to secret missions he knew if those missions ever become public knowledge the amount of awards and honors would fill the right wall easily.

Sighing softly he unhooked the sling from his rifle and began disassembling it. He would of had to do this even before he got that shower, so the class was not such a waste of time. He pulled off the clip and scope, looking them both over slowly he set them to the side. Then opened a large box on his table and pulled out a wire brush, a few rags, and a none corrosive cleaning agent.

The minutes passed as he cleaned every part of the outside of his rifle, even cleaning the sling. Setting the external components aside he gave a half twist to the stock and removed it. Reaching inside the opened area behind the trigger he felt around till he grasped a small bar, gripping just above the firing capacitor in front of the rifle he pressed two small indentations and pulled on the bar. Most of the internal components came out together, this allowed for easier cleaning and maintenance.

Foregoing the cleaning agent he pulled out a dry rag and began meticulously cleaning every component slowly. Inspecting the conversion chamber he grimaced, the swamp planets atmosphere had nearly destroyed the thing, it along with much of the other components would need to be replaced, something that got expensive fast.

Hearing several boxes being sat down on his table he looked up at the Instructor. As he walked away Joamer noticed the boxes and blinked several times, the boxes read MKIV conversion chamber, MKVII Prismatic Crystal/Housing, MKIII actuating module.

Being in complete surprise he looked up to see the Instructor helping another student, he did see the small smile that was on his face. Looking back down Joamer starred at the boxes, he knew from countless efforts finding these components was nearly impossible. On the open market the only thing you could get was MKIII chambers, MKV crystals, and MKII modules, he had even tried the black market with little success. The price of these added together was well over forty thousand, and that was not imperial credits.

He did not bother to do the conversion, he knew the price got high quickly when you tried to figure that out. Shaking his head slowly he began putting everything back together, the bell rang before he was done.

The class filed out quietly leaving him to his work. He noticed the instructor walk around the room picking up pieces that had been left behind.

Hooking the sling back up Joamer stood up and keyed the power on, a soft thrum emitted from the rifle for a moment before it quieted down. Switching it off Joamer swung it around his shoulders and looked at the older man starring at him.

"Why." He said.

"Because I know what you are going through, the DLT-20a was my rifle as well. So over the years I managed to find contacts to give me the things that were not available yet. I know you will put them to good use. Do not bother trying to repay me, just protect the squad you are in and that will be payment enough."

Nodding Joamer picked up his helmet and began walking out.

"Oh, you passed Theory two. Just in case the records were not clear on this."

Smiling Joamer slipped the helmet on and locked it. The door closed after he had left, leaving the Instructor alone in his memories.