ALT #391: A Resumption of Cross Training
A Resumption of Cross Training
Summary: Bennett and Amos agree to restart the Raptor/Marine joint training exercises.
Date: 01/Feb/2014
Related Logs: Nothing specific
Amos Bennett 
Battalion HQ - Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion
The headquarters of Third Battalion, Eighth Marines is the primary command location for all Marines associated with Task Force NOMAD. The walls and desks are covered with maps, photos, and satellite imagery. Secure phones are bolted to each bulkhead, and for added insurance, each desk possesses its own encrypted wireless unit with its own independent wiring. The small room is always manned by a wireless operator and a duty sergeant, though it tends to explode with activity during duty hours.
AWD #391

It has been a long day. Working two jobs at once is hard enough at the best of times but today has just been worse on several levels. Still, Amos' shift is nearly up, five minutes to go according to the clock and then he can legitimately walk out of HQ and leave it all behind for a few hours. Barring emergencies of course. A glance to the clock shows it has made depressingly little progress since the last time he look and that he really is going to have to open that next report and deal with whatever it might contain.

And if things weren't bad enough, in walks a pilot who looks to be on the hunt for someone. Given that she makes a beeline for Amos's desk without even the pretense of glancing about, she's probably here to delay the marine beyond his four and a half minutes remaining on duty. "Captain Ommanney," is her warm, honey-sweet greeting. A smile as she half-rests against the edge of his desk. "Do you think I could borrow a few minutes of your time?"

Well, at least Amos hadn't got far into the report. Closing the folder, and then setting it back on the top of what amounts to his 'in' pile he manages to avoid another sneaky glance at the clock as Bennett announces herself and instead merely gestures to the seat opposite. "Captain St. Clair," he starts, leaning back a little in his chair, "what can I do for you?"

Bennett takes the hint, at least, and eases off the edge of Amos's desk in order to perch on the offered chair. She's in her flight suit, perhaps not long off a duty shift, and there's a crackle of neoprene as she settles. "I have been thinking that it may be time to return to regular crosstraining drills between the raptor crew and your rifles," she explains. No preamble, really; she seems to have the sense to realise he's itching to get out of here.

Amos eyes the pile of paperwork as he listens then, once she's said her words he nods. "I agree, possibly it is well past the time but I have been finding myself with less and less time to devote to training needs of late. When do you propose we start?" Not that he's keen to jump at anything that'll get him back outside with dirt beneath his boots you understand. Not in the slightest. "I still have the scenarios we drew up before, so that should save on some of the planning time."

"Perhaps in a week or two, once the firearms training is underway?" St. Clair suggests, blue eyes drifting from Amos to his pile of paperwork, then back again. "I am sure you agree that most of it should be a review for my squadron, anyway." Since firearms expertise is, in general, a more core skillset for raptor crew. "And yes, I think we could start with some of the exercises we had outlined earlier, and run them down on Piraeus. I do not wish for us to get caught with our pants down, so to speak."

Amos looks almost a tad disapointed at the time scale, almost as if he's secretly been hoping for something more along the lines of 'first thing tomorrow' but he is not unaware of the need for proper logistical planning and so merely nods his agreement. "Of course, and should you require assistance in your firearms training then do let us know. We have just one or two who may be able to help." Marines and guns who would have thought it? "I'll need perhaps a days notice to prepare once you are ready," he states, going back to the immediate business at hand, "so please, just let me know as soon as you have the crews and time sorted and we shall see what we can manage."

Bennett smiles faintly at the marine's disappointed look, but says nothing of it. Instead, she begins easing back to her feet. "Just one or two. I am sure." The zipper on her flight suit is pulled up to beneath her chin; she must be headed to flight duty. "Also, what do you think of organising another.. ah, what do they call it. Fight night?" There's an ever so subtle twitch of her nose when she says it. But it's fairly well known that Butch, despite her name, is not much of a hand to hand combatant.

"I would imagine," Amos starts after a moment's consideration, "that there might be volunteers from within the Corp. Just, one or two." He offers his fellow captain a faint smile as she looks to be about to depart then stands as if to see her off. "Fly safe Captain St. Clair, and we can discuss the particulars when there are less constraints on our time." Or her time at least, he's just stolen a glance at the clock and knows that he is free.

Bennett ticks off a casual salute, complete with a wink, and backs out a couple of steps before pivoting and heading for the hatch. Her business here done, she's off to sit in a cockpit for a few hours while trying to keep her eyes open.

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