Beruut took the seat as it was offered. He listened to Milenya, nodding.<span style="color: YellowGreen">Unsurprising.</span>He responded.<span style="color: YellowGreen">He has made a name for himself among certain circles within the Terminus systems. In my time on board this ship, I have witnessed his strategic mind at work in no fewer than fifteen engagements. Thirteen of which ended nearly as they began - a single, decisive blow to cripple the enemy's vessel.</span>He said, motioning with his hands in accentuation.<span style="color: YellowGreen">Among trade lines, this ship is known as The Phantom. Not many know it's face, but there are plenty on Omega that don't like the name Armand Cantenelli.</span>He looked around the room, peering at the vessel.<br/><br/><span style="color: YellowGreen">And yes, you likely should recall any combat or paramedic training you have. Violence seems an inescapable element of this ship's trade. Injuries are common, and I suspect more are soon to come. My skills are not insignificant, but as with many injuries sustained in combat, half of the treatment is getting the wounded back to the ship alive.</span><br/><br/>Beruut paused, craning his head slightly to the side.<span style="color: YellowGreen">Tell me- what exactly did the Captain tell you about what it is this ship does, and what its on its way to do?</span><br/><br/><br/>***<br/><br/><br/>Ashana observed Kala, watched her every subtle movement. Her discomfort was enjoyable to watch. She hadn't spent a great deal of time with Asari, Ashana suspected. She smirked as Kala's gaze involuntarily dropped to her breasts.<br/><br/><span style="color: DarkOrchid">Yes.</span>Ashana responded, looking at Kala. She stared at the girl, looking down at the medi-gel and wraps on her burns. No one would have blamed her for sitting out of the work on the ship, but she had worked none the less.<br/><br/>The amusement in Ashana's face died as she looked at Kala, seriousness replacing it.<span style="color: DarkOrchid">I'm not usually in a position of being in someone's debt.</span>She took a deep breath, finding it was her turn to be uncomfortable.<span style="color: DarkOrchid">And yet, I find myself in yours.</span>She dropped her arm from the back of the sofa, clasping her hands in her lap, tapping her thumbs together.<span style="color: DarkOrchid">Were it not for your actions on Bekenstein, I would be dead. So, I wanted to say... thank you. And, if you need anything... I'll do what I can to get it for you.</span><br/><br/>Ashana watched Kala for a moment then nodded.<span style="color: DarkOrchid">I guess that's all I have to say.</span><br/><br/>***<br/><br/><br/>Firas looked from Darion to Maethia.<span style="color: Blue">You're not wrong... </span>He said to Darion after he had elaborated on the Mattock's design.<span style="color: Blue">Still, I think you know what you're doing if you've got any commando training at all.</span>He looked back at Maethia.<span style="color: Blue">But two MGs and and two sharp shooters,</span>He nodded at Darion and Sorv,<span style="color: Blue">Are a good combination. Ashana's biotics make us a complete fire team.</span><br/><br/>Firas looked across toward the armor lockers. He grunted.<span style="color: Blue">Well, if she doesn't have a lot of biotic experience, then I'd say heavy armor is a smart choice.</span>He pointed at this armor, and the chest plate that had been caved in when he had been hit by the YMIR mech.<span style="color: Blue">Anything lighter and I would by dead, and given what we've had to deal with so far, the more penetration resistance the better.</span><br/><br/>Firas watched Maethia as she said what she had to say about the armor then spoke up.<span style="color: Blue"> You said you've got hand-to-hand training? </span>He paused, looked at Darion then Sorv.<span style="color: Blue">Actually, let's stop talking about it and see what you've got. Bring your rifle. Leave the armor. The cargo bay looked clear enough for some training exercises... </span>As he said it he quietly lamented the lingering hangover he was suffering, but Turians believed in always staying sharp.<br/><br/><span style="color: DarkOrange">What did you have in mind?</span>Sorv asked, testing the ejection port on his Mantis with a thermal clip.<br/><br/>Firas crossed his arms across his chest.<span style="color: Blue">Marksmanship... hand to hand. We could use some of the crates down there as cover to fire from as well.</span>He looked at Sorv, Darion, and Maethia.<span style="color: Blue">Well?</span><br/><br/><span style="color: DarkOrange">I hate you for suggesting this after last night, but... alright. Let's do it.</span>Sorv put down his mantis and pulled one of the stock Mantises from the rack.<span style="color: DarkOrange">I can out shoot any of you any day of the week.</span><br/><br/>Firas looked at the rifle in Sorv's hands.<span style="color: DarkOrange">Alright... unmodified guns.</span>He looked at Maethia.<span style="color: Blue">Except you. I want to see this Mattock of yours.</span>He pulled an Avenger from the racks.<br/><br/>Firas led the way out of the armory, rifle in hand. Mickey noticed them, and looked at the rifles, then frowned.<span style="color: MediumTurquoise">You know there's... </span>He pursed his lips then smirked.<span style="color: MediumTurquoise">Never mind. You going shooting?</span><br/><br/><span style="color: DarkOrange">Yep.</span>Sorv said, carrying the Mantis over his shoulder.<br/><br/><span style="color: MediumTurquoise">Cool. Hey Cap, I'm gonna go watch these guys shoot.</span>Mickey followed the group in the the elevator, leaning against the wall. He stared at Maethia, a half smile on his face. When she looked at him he smiled cheekishly.<span style="color: MediumTurquoise">Hi. I'm Mickey. Ship pilot and all around badass.</span><br/><br/>The elevator opened in the cargo bay and Firas stepped out, looking around at the various crates.<span style="color: Blue">Alright, lets set those up at the far end of the bay.</span>He pointed.<span style="color: Blue">We'll shoot for them. A few crates around them to keep any ricochets from killing anyone.</span><br/><br/>Shira had since returned to the bay, patrolling it and watching the crews, making sure nothing was brought on board or removed from the ship that wasn't supposed to be. She heard Firas and turned, looking at the group with their guns, pointing at the crates.<span style="color: Indigo">Unbelievable...</span>She muttered.<span style="color: Indigo">Hey!</span>She yelled at them and pointed at the port wall of the bay.<span style="color: Indigo">Its got a firing range!</span><br/><br/>Firas looked at Shira then slowly over at the designated wall. There was only a depressed rectangle in the wall, no firing range. Still, he approached the wall, then noticed as he drew closer, the emitters for a console. He turned on the interface and chuckled, grinning.<span style="color: Blue">Of course it does...</span><br/><br/>He started hitting keys, calling up the commands, then watched the bay open up, and the firing range rise from beneath the panels. Sorv walked over and stood next to him, watching in jovial surprise.<br/><br/><span style="color: DarkOrange">Huh. Of course it does.</span>He hit a key and sent one of the dummies down the range to its end.<span style="color: DarkOrange">Well shit. That's not even hard.</span>He said, gauging the distance, which for his rifle was very short. He lifted his Mantis and only had to take a brief moment to aim before he fired, the loud boom of the rifle filling the cargo bay. The round sparked the kinetic barrier around the dummy, the epicenter of the discharge squarely in the middle of the dummy's head. He ejected the mag, letting the glowing red thermal clip hit the deck and sizzle and warp out of shape as it cooled down, and loaded another.<br/><br/>Firas took the Mantis out of Sorv's hands and gave him the Avenger.<span style="color: Blue">Lets see how you do with this.</span>Firas smirked, badgering the Quarian.<br/><br/>Sorv chuckled and looked the gun over before lifting the butt against his shoulder and aiming down the range. He fired a few short bursts, adjusting his hold on the rifle, then squeezed the rigger down, sending a hail of rounds into the dummy's kinetic barriers while a counter ticked up the hits on the console. Shira and several of the crewmen stopped to watch.<br/><br/>The rifle ceased fire, and Sorv ejected the mag. A few of the crew clapped.<br/><br/><span style="color: Blue">28.</span>Firas read aloud.<br/><br/><span style="color: Indigo">28 on fully automatic. Not bad.</span>Shira'Va remarked, leaning against a tall crate.<br/><br/><span style="color: DarkOrange">I aim to please.</span>Sorv handed Firas the rifle and stood by Darion and Maethia.<span style="color: DarkOrange">Go on then.</span>He verbally prodded the Turian.<br/><br/>Firas evened his stance, and aimed the rifle. He fired in 5 round bursts, taking half a second between each volley to adjust. When the clip depleted, he ejected it and stood back.<span style="color: Blue">34</span>He said, his mandibles flexing in a grin. Cheers followed.<br/><br/><span style="color: DarkOrange">Not bad. sure took you long enough, though.</span>Sorv retorted.<br/><br/><span style="color: Indigo">Who's next?</span>Shira asked, walking from her crate to stand among the ground crew. She tapped a few keys on the console, calling down a rack of thermal clips.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>