Danger - Rear Echelon
Danger - Rear Echelon
Summary: Zaharis oversees Rhea's firearms quals. Just ignore that hole in the ceiling.
Date: 18 BCH (26 October 2008)
Related Logs: None

Small Arms Range Genesis - Deck 14
18 BCH 2085 Souls

The shooting range can hold up to a dozen personnel that are working on their firearms skills. Each booth has a scorecard. Buttons in the booth sends the target down a runner and brings the target back. A locker holds some weaponry and is code locked for Officers and marine NCO's only. Ear and eye gear hang within the booths for protection.

"This is idiotic," Rhea says firmly as she steps onto the shooting range. Not a place you'll usually find the ChEng. She was late meeting Zaharis here. Took her awhile to dig up ammunition for her side-arm. "What gave Captain Gaelan the idea for this little 'target' measuring contest, anyway?" She's still resisting the idea of joining in. But she did bother to bring the gun.

"Don't look at me." Zaharis' hands are firmly in his olive-khaki pockets as he strides along next to Rhea. "I haven't shot a gun in forever. The whole M.D. with deadly weapon thing was just too cinematic for me." He raises an eyebrow, glancing around the thoroughly unfamiliar area of the battlestar.

"Marines are *always* obsessed with seeing who has the bigger gun," Rhea says. "You should write some sort of psychiatric paper on it. I bet Fleet Headquarters would love to read a definitive study on the subject. She heads to one of the lanes, taking care to put her eye gear on properly. Safety first.

Zaharis pulls a face. "I leave psychiatry to the nut jobs." He watches her put her safety stuff on with a suspicious look, turning around to grab a set of goggles for himself. "You know I trust you with my life, Rhea, but not when you're armed."

Rhea turns to smirk crookedly over at Zaharis. "The feeling is mutual, Doctor, I assure you. Gods, I don't think I've shot this thing in months. Then again, I've never once fired the damn thing on duty. I don't know why Ephraim enjoys it so much. As far as machines go guns are so…simple."

Zaharis grins faintly. "Yeah, but they go boom boom. Never underestimate the magnetic force between testosterone and loud noises."

"I don't know about that. There are plenty of female Marines, and pilots for that matter, who go in for that ego-measuring nonsense," Rhea says, shrugging her shoulders and stretching her arms. Limbering up a little. "Estrogen can be *highly* volatile. Admittedly, it's a different brand of stupid, but it all gets you to the same place."

Zaharis smirks, sliding his hands out of his pockets and folding his arms. "I was talking about Ephraim. Who I sincerely doubt has any estrogen issues, unless you're referring to marriage."

Rhea laughs, shaking her head. "That would be talking out of turn. Though I'd like to think we both manage to be less idiotic than a lot of couples." Another chuckle. "It is the damnedest thing to watch him on the range, though. He used to drag me out for target practice sometimes when we were on the Battlestar Solinas together. Did he show you his special goggles? He had the frakking things made by an optometrist so he could take off his glasses on the range."

"Oh…yeah, I saw them." Zaharis half-grins, half-smirks at that. "I told him he looked like a librarian on a rampage. He didn't talk to me for a while after that." He glances down the corridor at the target, scratching the end of his nose. "Well…going to shoot it, then?"

"Ha!" Rhea puts down her gun so she can laugh properly at the librarian crack. "Poor man. He is *so* proud of those gods-damned things. They do make him look like he's working on his battlefield thesis, though." She does some more chuckling, sighing, but she does pick up the gun again. "I might as well. My engineering officers are bugging me to represent the department."

Zaharis doesn't interrupt her as she picks up the weapon. Off to the side though, he raises his hands to splay palms-out in front of his eyes, making a horribly affected face like a frozen scream.

Rhea fixes her ear-protection in place. And turns to stick her tongue out at Zaharis. Then, without further ado, she starts firing. She does try to aim carefully, and she /was/ trained to handle the thing, but she still doesn't look natural with it in hand.

<Trait Roll> Rhea rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of BeyondTerrible* (-2). *BOTCH*

Zaharis instictively half-ducks when that first shot goes off, staring down the corridor. "Holy frak, Rhea. Target there…" He swoops his arms, fingers pointed down the way like an air traffic controller, then towards the other wall. "Not THERE!"

The bullet does not go anywhere near the target. The gun, somehow, jerks up and fires at an angle down the lane into the ceiling. It's very, very fortunate Rhea's working with rubber bullets, or she might've breached something. For a moment the ChEng just stares at the gun and at Zaharis' swooping. Then, she just starts laughing. She sets her gun down so she can double over and crack up properly. "What?" she scoffs, when she's got her breath back. "You think you can do better, Doc?"

"Damn straight I can." Zaharis lets out a low whistle and smirks. "But you can't do my quals if I do yours, remember? And you've already started, so you're stuck finishing yours up."

Rhea barks another laugh, picking up the gun again. "I may stay out of this thing altogether. Don't want to put somebody's eye out. But I might as well finish what I started." She fires again, taking less time to do the angles and stuff this time. It clearly didn't help her.

<Trait Roll> Rhea rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Good (4).

Zaharis pretends to cower again, briefly, though he snickers at the near bullseye she pulls off. "There you go. Just like…wave the thing around while you fire it. Seems to work better."

"Huh." Rhea seems surprised when she actually hits the broadside of the target. Not a killing shot but it'd make that little paper man bleed if he had veins. "I knew I vaguely remembered how to do this. Maybe I should try to keep my qualifications up more regularly. It just…almost never comes up down in Engineering." She preps for another shot, more relaxed now. Perhaps because she's not taking it seriously.

<Trait Roll> Rhea rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Fair (3).

Zaharis squints towards the paperman, giving an approving nod. "Not bad, not bad." He motions to the weapon. "Two shots left. Let 'em rip."

Rhea winks at Zaharis, doing her best to look bad-ass and hard-core before she fires again. It's clearly for comic effect.

<Trait Roll> Rhea rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Good (4).

Zaharis just refolds his arms, snickering under his breath as he waits for her to finish up.

"Hey, you get dragged to enough of these things for 'dates,' you pick up a couple of things," Rhea says with a grin as she gives the target a nice sucking chest wound. "And I don't even have special bad-ass goggles." Another shot is taken.

<Trait Roll> Rhea rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Mediocre (2).

"I'm sure Ephraim will be only too glad to have a matching pair made for you," Zaharis says, stretching up his arms and lacing his fingers behind his dark head. "Maybe with little matching headbands with your joint initials on them."

That's more the ChEng's style. Unremarkable and clipped on the outer edge of the target-line. "Gods no," Rhea says firmly, setting her gun down and taking off goggles and ear protection. "And if you suggest it, I will hurt you. With a wrench, so I can do it properly. It took me years to get him to stop inviting me along. That wasn't so bad, though." Aside from the shot in the ceiling. There is that.

Zaharis smirks. "Gaelan'll forgive us our trespasses. We are rear echelon motherfrakkers, after all. Bullethole patchers unite." He groans quietly. "I guess I should find someone to do mine. Tomorrow though."

Rhea raises her fist in geeky solidarity, grinning as she puts the safety on her gun. That bit she knows how to deal super well. She holsters the thing, nodding. "Let me know when you do. I'll drag myself away from Engineering to watch, if I can. You owe me after witnessing that."

Zaharis replies mildly, "Yeah, I'll get right on that." He pulls off his safety goggles, tossing them off to some random specialist going round with cleaning solution. "So where are you off to?"

"Back to Engineering, after I put this thing away again," Rhea says, moving out of her lane so someone else can enjoy it. "The Raptor pilots brought back a busted buoy while they were out on patrol. There's something frakking strange about the way it was damaged. Can't say much more than that. Don't know much more than that right now. My electrical techs have stopped it from sparking, at least. Now we get to do an autopsy." She can't hold back a grin. Rhea loves playing with her toys.

Zaharis raises an eyebrow slightly. "'Frakking strange'? You know, I actually believe it when you say it." He unlaces his hands, yawning softly without bothering to cover his mouth. "Well, if it turns out to be something that threatens humanity, you know…try and warn me."

Rhea snorts. "Probably just some pirates or dissidents frakking with the Fleet. But I'll give you a call if somebody cuts themselves on it. We'll break it down. It'll be easy enough to fix. Finding out what broke it'll be the interesting part. You headed back to your bunk?"

Zaharis shakes his head, glancing at the exit. "Got me a new batch of medics to break in. Going to go put on the warpaint and my best loincloth, make a bonfire of it."

Rhea looks Zaharis up and down in an exaggerated sort of way. As if picturing him in said warpaint and loincloth. The image makes her smirk. She laughs. "Be gentle with them. I'll see you later. Don't work too hard." Probably not advice he'll take. Not that she ever does. She strides out of the range and back toward her engine room lair.

"Who me? Never. Time for some warm welcoming!" Zaharis turns to follow her, pumping both fists and letting out a loud, warbling AI-YI-YI-YI-YI! as he goes.

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