AWD #596: This Is Not Sparring
This Is Not Sparring
Summary: There is a big difference between fun off duty sparring and real hand to hand combat training where the objective is to kill your enemy with your bare hands as quickly and efficiently as possible - before they kill you. Doctor Nadir gets an introduction to this from Major Valloy.
Date: 07/02/2017 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Recent Samtara logs with the Arpay
Samtara Valloy Lleufer 
Fitness Center, Deck 3, Battlestar Orion
Smelling of sweat and grease, the Fitness Center is a place where individuals can come to work out or just work off stress. The area closest to the entrance is taken up by two very large sparring pads with a pathway down the center, each pad removable to reveal a Pyramid court beneath. The walls beside the pads hold lockers for everything from pugilist sticks to boxing gloves to rubber guns, though deadly weapons are strictly prohibited in here except by authorized personnel such as on-duty Military Police. Standing goalposts for Pyramid are also kept against the wall. Past the pads are a vast number of nautilus machines as well as free weights to lift. At the back of the room are workout bikes, rowing machines, treadmills, and stairclimbers. There is an entrance to the pool at the rear as well as a locker room to the side.
Evening, Fri Aug 25, 2006

The center mat in the Fitness Center has been cleared out and nobody seems to want to mess with the woman standing just off center. She's in the normal combat greys of the Arpay military, not bothering with sweatpants. Why? Sweatpants don't deal well with thigh-rig sidearms. Especially loaded ones. Atop she is in a fitted black shirt that hugs her figure tightly. Some of the guys and women around don't shy from glancing over. Not just at the figure, but the ears and eyes. She's standing there with a squirt-bottle of water. To the side is a single set of headgear and an unfamilar set of gloves. They look like flight gloves, but are padded just a little less to provide nimble ability.

Hurrying into the fitness center at a pace that suggests she's racing from one end of the ship to the other, Sam is already wearing what she's been advised to wear and carrying a sidearm that she'd checked out from the armory, also as instructed. And while she is aware it's a rental, she does have it. Spotting who can only be the instructor she's supposed to be meeting, Sam adjusts course accordingly and makes her way to the center mat.

Because he said he would come, Sergeant Lleufer Ynyr also arrives at 20:00 for Samtara's hand to hand with Major Valloy. Just in case the Major had, for some reason to cancel, he would do hand to hand with Sam so she'd still get the benefit with somebody. But also, Ynyr's simply wanting to watch how Valloy chooses to instruct. He's in his own tanks and tags with fatigue pants and drops off a sports bag with a towel, water and other things in it at the bench. Lleu's hex tags swing and chink softly against his chest as he straights back up, "Majors. I hope you don't mind if I observe, do you Major Valloy?" Unlike the other two he's not wearing a sidearm and likely the MP is off duty, now.

"Doctor Nadir." Valloy looks to her on the approach and doubletaps her heart quickly. Its more of a formality for her with this. "Good to meet you. The Admiral seems to think highly of you. Unfortunately that does not matter here. I'm to give you hands-on fight training." She gestures to a duffel beside her. "You will be performing here tonight or you're in deep shit. I want maximum effort. You hold back, you'll leave here needing treatment. Is that understood?" The Major doesn't seem to even have an inch of humor to her. "Put on the headgear and a pair of gloves. I'll be striking you. I won't be wearing headgear because you need to know where to hit and how. And how it feels. I've got enough nanites crawling in my head to repair that I can practically see them behind my eyes. Suit up." She tosses the bottle to the side and reaches for the other pair of gloves. When Sam puts them on, she'll feel the padding. The harder they impact, the more they expand to provide some protection to the wearer and impactor. As she pulls her gloves on, she looks over to Lleu and shakes her head. "Much of what you will see is what our soldiers tried to impart on you during mild training. This will be more intense, Sergeant." A few people around them begin to slowly stop and pay more attention, even if most can't understand whats being said. Valloy's manner of speaking, that flat seriousness, is unlike the friendly blonde he met in the Mess on Spaceball One.

Quickly setting aside the water bottle she's carrying and dropping the towel beside it, Sam returns the salute even as she listens intently to what Valloy is saying. "Likewise, and thank you for taking the time to assist," Leu is aimed an equally quick nod but the focused look on her face is all for what Valloy is saying and she's moving to put on the head gear and gloves even before the major is done speaking. The headgear is snugged in place with care, because even with the nanites swimming in her blood she doesn't have any margin for error either. The gloves are studied only for a moment before she pulls the gloves on. "Leave nothing in the tank, yes ma'am, sir," hasty correction there, lets hear it for salutation confusion.

Lleufer gives a nod and takes a seat on the bench. He answers Valloy in Arpay, as he had spoken before, "Understood, Major." Aye, he trained hand to hand with the Arpay as much as they'd have him, eager. Now, he will sit quietly and observe and say nothing further.

Valloy moves around a bit once Samtara gets her headgear on. There's the image of a stalking tiger in their minds as she looks. "Sam," she uses the first name. "Attacks can come at any time, from any direction." She continues walking around. "What I will teach you does not have a fighting stance so I want you to stand like you normally would. If you get practiced into a fighting stance, someone will be prepared to defend or know you are not who you claim to be when you are behind the lines." She walks around the other side to face Samtara. "Sergeant Ynyr, I want her focused on short sprints. Quick movements. Endurance is good but she needs to be able to move fast. Anaerobics. If she can't move her hands and arms fast enough, this is useless." She comes to stand in front of Sam, facing her, about two feet away. "First thing is first. Hit me if you can. I need to see your form and how your body moves."

"Like an assault on the immune system, from any direction at any time, aye," Sam replies as she flexes her hands in the gloves again, moving her shoulders to loosen the tense set of muscles and watching the Major with focused intensity. She is listening, because she'll have time to analyze everything that is said later, but it's the now that matters. She moves her shoulders again, remembers to move her feet, remembers that she hasn't ever actually hit anyone in her entire life outside of the practice ring, then shoves all of that off to the side. The Major said to just hit her, so that's what she does; tucking her left hand in briefly before she centers her balance, then jabs out one gloved fist, knowing that even a few inches of longer arm reaching isn't going to help if she doesn't move fast enough in the first place.

"Yes sir, Major." Fast sprints are already on the PT, but Ynyr will double check the workout and fine tune adjustments to best suit what they want. Lleu leans over to open up his bag and dig out his water bottle to have a light sip. His own pale grey eyes glance at Valloy's bag she's left open and something there holds his attention for a couple of seconds. He doesn't say anything about it, his attention going back to the pair of them.

Valloy dodges easily, stepping outside the reach. "Good." That's all she says. "You miss me three times, I'm going to hit you. Make this shit count." Vulgar, like most Marines. Or, in her case, soldiers. "Your fighting technique looks like the Sergeant's. Stop squaring your shoulders. Get loose. I didn't have you warm up because in life and death situation you don't have time to hit pause and due some stretches. Learn how to get loose on your own." Valloy starts trying to move to get around her, looking like Valloy isn't going to wait for the third miss. "In this ring we do not stop, Sam. If I take you down you better keep fighting. I alone can call a reset to standing. You fall out of the ring, this session ends to my reporting to the Admiral. Try again." Lleu can tell what's going on. Valloy is trying to corral her, get her closer to the edge of the ring, just by stalking around.

Stay on that mat, got it, Sam likes parameters and this one is pretty clear cut. Stay on the mat. She takes a brief blink of a moment to make sure she has the linear measurements of the central mat set in her mind. Then she stops trying to remember all the stuff she's already forgotten from what she learned along the way just to get this far and also some of the very rigid formalities that she's so strict on when it comes to personals pace. Moving and thinking, she moves to the side, quickly sidestepping instead of retreating. She moves in, instead, closer to the Major in proximity and aims a sharp elbow; still twisting sideways with the momentum she lets the momentum carry the motion forward to jab the other fist at the major.

Lleufer is not a boxer so he personally doesn't square up much as a lot of Marines do. Ynyr prefers to be more fluid, sometimes kick, and do a lot of creative things other than just punching. Like take downs, chokes, disarms, maims, and practice fast lethal moves to end a fight quick. But he's not helping Sam out here. The MP Sergeant watches what Valloy is doing and keeps his silence. Then seeing Sam come in with a single, rather than a three or four part attack sequence, Lleu's lips move faintly as if muttering to himself.

Valloy watches as she moves, looking Sam and up and down. "This ten foot circle of mat is your house. I am in your metaphorical house, Sam. You have no place to retreat from. Zero. Get used to this." She see's the elbow coming but isn't expecting the fist follow-up. It was close. Valloy grins a little more. "Good." She turns back the other way and circles out, then begins to come back. "When you are engaged in hand to hand, you fight to win. You do not fight to escape in situations like this. I will fucking kill you if you try to run. If you get away I'll just get ten friends. Then you're screwed." She stares Sam right in the eye. "The spar to train, but we do not fight to win. We kill. If someone is dumb enough to get into a fight with us, then it is their funeral. You are a Doctor." She stops in place a moment, then back the other way. "You heal. You aren't trained for this. But if you die? How many others will die that you could have saved? Ten? Fifty? One hundred? Likely thousands. So I pointedly ask you, Sam, whose life is more important here? Yours or mine? If you quit, if you fuck up, if you die then you might as well have killed hundreds of people by lining them up for an execution shot. So stop trying to hit me and fucking hit me."

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Samtara=Melee Vs Knox=Melee

< Samtara: Success Knox: Great Success

< Net Result: Knox wins - Solid Victory

Close but not close enough, faster than the first attempt but not fast enough. Not enough. She keeps moving in those sideways steps, back, around, back again, never quite the way she wanted to move or quite the way she should move, but keeps moving. Mindful of the edge. Forward steps that bring her in, each word from the major hitting like a hammer and reminding Sam why she's doing this in the first place. If you're going to break, then there's no reason to hold back. She exhales a short huff of sound and steps in, aiming a series of kicks at shin, knee then twisting to slam an elbow back at the Major.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Samtara=Melee Vs Knox=Melee

< Samtara: Success Knox: Great Success

< Net Result: Knox wins - Crushing Victory

Valloy was expecting this perhaps. A more aggressive approach. Valloy kicks Sam's own movements up and away, setting her off-balance. The thrown elbow is stepped around and Valloy grips the passing elbow. She continues it and moves to dive a knee into Sam's back. Valloy goes down, grabbing the Major's wrist and tucking it high up between her shoulder blades. Sam's face is in the mat, hard. A knee in the small of her back, Valloy stops. Sam has one free arm and noplace to go. "Stop the fight!" she calls quickly, gently releaving pressure on Sam's arm so it doesn't hurt. "Sam, I have one free hand and arm. You are a Doctor. Tell me how to most efficiently kill you."

"Cartilage into the brain, it's the most efficient and least messy of available methods," Sam answers promptly, her breath rebounding off of the mat as she works on her breathing so that she doesn't do anything stupid, like yank on her arm. "If you want the method that doesn't require additional weaponry. If you have a blade, you use it at the base of the brain stem top of the spinal column, if you want bloody you don't hyperextend the neck and slit both arteries, or you stab kidneys. All of which are fast and varying degrees of efficiency," she feels her muscles twitching anyway and exhales again, adrenaline edged instincts suggesting panic is a good idea simply has to shut up and not give advice.

Lleufer lifts a brow at Samtara's answer. Maybe he had a less messy, quick method in mind, or maybe he expected Sam to freeze up on answering. Doctors know anatomy so well but often bulk at the idea of how to kill. "Or she could break your neck, even with one hand. Easy with you face down." His voice is kept low, as if he's actually done this killing thing a few times. Don't ask him about his last Caprica mission, Sam. There were kids involved.

Valloy listens. She holds her place, not a twitch. She doesn't hurt Sam further but the fight or flight instinct is there. That panic of being at the mercy of someone who is talking about killing them. "All correct. Think of your surgical training. Cut and do not be afraid of precision. For our purposes?" Valloy looks to Lleu and gives him a calm nod before she moves her free hand. "Extend the free arm back, then bring down a crushing blow." She slowly lowers her hand until Sam can feel the knuckles kiss. Its that perfect point where the spine meets the skull. Sam knows it would kill her instantly. But Valloy only touches her skin softly enough for it to just be felt, nothing more. She then stands. "Reset. Take a moment to limber. Right now, its okay. I need your nanites to flow to muscles. Let's practice what you did, but we start basic." Valloy seems to be less of a humorless bitch now and a little more in tune with being an instructor. "You've felt what it was like so you're going to do it to me. Now, your enemy doesn't normally have high end combat training so I'm going to stick to simple kicks and punches." Valloy is no longer stalking. She is a teacher. Her lesson has been imparted… but what was it? The takedown or the realization? "I'll take it slow. Think about biomechanics. Think about the ways that the body does not like to bend. Especially the wrists. You can control anyone with a solid control of the wrist." She slooooowly punches out towards Sam when she is ready, holding it. "Look at my arm. Think about how it is, and think about how it could be used against me." Valloy points to Sam's closer arm. "Wrap your arm up and over my punch. Slow. Step into it. Hold there."

Pushing herself to her feet, Sam ducks her head briefly against her forearm to swipe at her forehead then moves her head slightly from side to side, works her shoulders again, rests both gloved hands on her sides while waiting out a moment for the rest of the adrenaline edge to bleed off so she can focus better. "This isn't about a complicated sequence of blows and fancy dance moves," she doesn't make it a question but sounds to be working her way toward a better understanding. "You mean to teach fast, efficient, you're not fighting to incapacitate?" she makes that part a question even as she tips her head slightly and studies Valloy's extended arm and moves a step closer. First to study the actual stance and extended arm then back to her original position, steps in a deliberate pace then wraps her arm up and over Valloy's.

Thinking about jujitzu, taking control of another's body and using pivot points, weight and balance, the body's own biomechanics against itself makes Ynyr faintly nod to what Valloy says. But he doesn't speak again. At Sam's question he looks like he'd give her an answer, but no, it's not his training session.

"Correct. This is not about fancy or showy moves. We have competitions for those." She holds her exact place with the punch frozen in her stance, looking towards where Sam was. "This is purely efficient killing. If you have to fight, is there any, any reason you can think of to leave a living witness behind? Bodies can be hidden, a mouth cannot be controlled easily. It is them or the thousands of people you have in your future. There is no decision. Take lives to save them. There are no exceptions where you are going." She then waits for Sam to get into position. She doesn't move, she just looks right into Sam's eyes. "I am punching with my right. Your left has my arm trapped. You step in with your left leg. Now, in one fluid motion I want you to use your right leg to kick forward, then kick my legs out from under me with a sweep back. As you do, I want your right hand to shove me down as hard as you can. Kneel as you do to keep control of my left arm. Then bring your right arm back up for a kill shot but hold. Tell me what you see." And if she does, Valloy is going to end up on her back, free arm out and without real control when she pauses.

"How do you know when to save a life instead of take one though?" because it's a question Sam has to ask, but she's asking it while staring right into Valloy's eyes; not a rhetorical question, that. "IF someone is trying to kill me, then it's because we're someplace that medical care isn't welcome, for a reason. So killing me kills anyone else I might be able to help, if I'm still alive. It's why our medics and corpsmen don't wear identifying marks in the field. Shoot the medics, shoot the officers, take out the command and support structure. First aid is all well and good but it's not a trauma surgeon," she follows instructions now, frowning her way through each step and not moving anywhere near as fast as she gets the /feel/ of it as much as the process of it, the gloves making her hands feel bulky and cartoonish. Step, kick, kick again then sweep, the shove followed by controlling Valloy's left arm and as she takes a knee she controls the fall as well and the impact, right elbow bending arm back, then holds. "If I've done this right? Hit you just right, just hard enough, I could kill you. If I've done it wrong, you're going to kick me in the face and I'll have to come up with another way to get back to this point."

Ynyr isn't saying anything. He is watching, sipping his water sometimes.

Valloy addresses the physical first. "No. I have no chance to react if you don't give me the chance." Valloy is flat on her back, head on the mat. "Fist up, you killshot is a palm-heel strike to my larynx. Crush my windpipe? I can no longer speak, even if I survive it — which I wouldn't." She pauses. "Some of the worlds wear plate armor that protects their necks, however." Valloy stops there and holds, then addressing the first, "You know in the moment. There are no hard and fast rules. I've been back where Jimenez has and worked security. Sometimes you just have to make the judgment in an instant. I cannot give you words to describe what you will see or how you can make the choice. But you will know when to bullshit and when to strike. But if you choose violence, there is only one result. You never tip your hand that you can fight and kill unless you kill. If you take a punch but it means you can stay, you take the damned punch." She holds the look. "Pretend I'm wearing plate armor. Draw your gun. Put it to my head. Look me in the eye and simulate firing. I don't care if its loaded, do it." And she just stares back up at Sam.

"I care if it's loaded, and I've already checked to make sure that there isn't a round chambered, because that's so many security violations I don't think they'd ever let me check out a weapon again," Sam responds in a voice is terse and rather dry at the same time, because she's drawing the sidearm she's been issued and she checks - again - that the safety is on /and/ that pulling the trigger won't actually chamber a round, but she's sweating all the same. "I think I understand why Marines swear so much," and she pulls the trigger before she can - needs to? lets herself? - ramble any further. She flinches as she does it, even with all the back checking and safety measures and training rounds, it's still something she flinches over.

Valloy just lays there while Sam explains herself. Even as the trigger is pulled, she stares back at Sam. A few seconds pass and she suddenly shoves Sam off. "Reset!" The Major is mad. "I said simulate a firing, not pulling the fucking trigger." And she just laid there and took it. "Glad you had the sack to do it, though." She points to the sidearm. "Show me a full magazine. SHOW ME." She will wait until there is a full mag produced from anywhere. "Load it. Right now. Chamber a round. Safety off. Then holster it." Valloy stares at Sam. "I will make it my personal mission to fail you on this point: If I catch you walking around this ship or anywhere without a loaded sidearm with the safety on, I will ruin this for you. You have one single safety and it is your finger. If you are worried about people taking your gun from you then I heartily suggest that you think hard about weapon retention, Sam." She takes a long breath, the pissed look from her fading after a few moments. "Okay, you get the idea of a take-down. Sergeant Ynyr, practice take-downs with her for lethal strikes." She then moves to the bag and reaches in. Out comes a very foreign sidearm. A real one. She fluidly drops the empty mag and tosses it to Lleu to check. She does a quick press-check and holds it by her side, finger off the trigger. "Time to move up. Ready?"

Shoved off, Sam moves back a healthy distance, remaining within the boundaries of the mat and takes the mag once it's passed over, ejects the previous one, snaps it into position, chambers the round, demonstrating that she can do all of those things without fumbling for it, then holsters the weapon at her side. She shifts a single glance toward Ynyr as Valloy outlines additions to the practice sessions then back to Valloy again, then down to the weapon at her side and back up again. The only possible answer to that question: "Yes."

At this point Lleufer does move to stand, "Pardon me, Major Valloy … but it's against regs for us to go around with a loaded sidearm, with a round chambered /and/ the safety off unless it's an emergency situation that warrants it. You'll have to clear that with Command, or as an MP I have to object. It's not just a safety issue among personnel, but a hazzard to the ship as well. Which is why we are required to use frangible wax rounds or rubbers in the firing range." Ynyr draws an easy breath, "Once Doctor Nadir is off the ship, you can have her do that in a combat zone but not while she's on board." Lleu eyes Vallory's own sidearm, "And … no offence, but I am going to have to insist you don't carry your own sidearm chanbered /and/ with no safety on it, sir. Not unless I get orders otherwise."

There is a nod to the rest, "Aye, we'll practice take downs, disarms, quick kills, breaking holds, FA retention, and a few other things."

Valloy handles the sidearm and lifts it, tossing it in her hand to offer it to Sam. "Most common sidearm found where you are going. It has a hammer so you can see its cocked by looking at it. Guns like this are very common on the local guards. They are a bunch of arrogant pricks so they tend to point one-handed. Point that at me. I'm about to throw you down and simulate firing. We will practice afterwards." She then looks over to Lleufer and listens. There's a narrowing of her eyes and she slowly nods. "Fair enough. Then safeties on." She reaches for her own and flicks it on her thigh. "Will that be sufficient, Sergeant?"

Stepping forward again, and glancing toward Ynyr as he outlines the security risk and the usual protocol onboard the Orion, Sam abides by the rule that every other division head abides by. Don't but in where you aren't the expert. So she listens, intently, first to Lleu then to the Major then accepts the sidearm and studies it, both hands turning the weapon around and getting a feel for the weight and working of it. "Why is a one handed firing stance bad?" is asked. "If you have the muscle density to fight the recoil, that is, presuming there's recoil? The Sergeant was explaining the other day about doing firing drills from a profile position instead of face on, to reduce the surface area," she says even as she's taking the firing stance and pointing the weapon at Valloy.

It's enough to make that subtle tension in the MP Sergeant relax, "Yes, sir. Ideally also … not already chambered. Though safety at least is required unless we go to Condition 1, or something happens that you are threatened, or you are off ship." He's not going to push the point about chambered rounds, just the safety. Lleu checks the firearm he was offered and it's empty magazine, making certain it's clear and then hands it back before he resumes his seat.

"The Sergeant is correct. However, that is a trained firing combat stance. The people you will meet do not enforce through training or professionalism. The enforce it through fear and power of the gun and blade. Many you may meet will be carrying swords. A one-handed approach provides flexibility to power and inspires confidence in their actions not just to themselves but the people they lord over. Very few have real training and the brains to use it." She then looks back to Lleu and nods slowly. "We carry with a round in the chamber. Always. We never know when combat may strike so we carry with the asumption that we will be in combat. "I will forward the request about the safety so we will comply. However, chambered rounds are something you will have to take up with Admiral Jimenez. We are under her orders."

"Fascinating," The word escapes Sam before she can reel it back in. "Sorry. I just meant, fighting with gun and blade. You don't mean a short blade like the marines carry, you mean an actual blade weapon. I haven't seen actual blade inflicted wounds save for training incidents and even those were short blades. Granted," and she frowns, "a long blade is still a blade going through the same puncture wound or laceration, which brings the next question. Are they very talented with the use of blade weapons or is that for show and fear as well?" She turns toward Ynyr slightly, "You're taught blade fighting as well, but it's the standard marine issued blade, not a longer ceremonial sort?"

"I happen to agree with you, Major Valloy, on that point. As an MP, it's what I usually have to enforce for safety concerns. Doctor Nadir however is a member of /our/ crew and is under our regulations while she's on board. If I am given orders otherwise, I will abide by them, sir." The Sergeant is like a rock and as stubborn sometimes. When he's addressed again, Lleu nods, "Not me. Ka-bar - long, big knife." There could be more he'd add but Ynyr decides to keep his reply very short and basic so Valloy may continue.

Valloy looks right back at Samtara. There's no humor there. "Well-trained. The militias get blades. If the MAchines trust a person, they get a sidearm. That's your cue that someone is serious. Most of these places live before modern machinery they are allowed to control. Blacksmiths are a big deal." She shakes her head, then. "If you think they will kill you, they draw blades and you start shooting. Temporary arrests happen enough with drawn blades. Use your own discretion. We also do teach blades, but that's months of training. Doctors cannot risk being caught in a dance of edges." She looks back to Lleu and nods. "Your ship, your rules. But we carry chambered rounds until I hear from my Admiral, Sergeant. I expect Sam to abide by your rules," but. She looks back at Samtara. "If I ever find you without a sidearm on you, except the shower, its on you. I expect loaded magazines within five meters at any time."

"I wasn't making light of it," Sam explains in turn, "I'm just having to adjust to the notion of the mesh of weaponry. The whole carrying a gun to a knife fight thing sounds funny until it isn't. I've seen ceremonial blades, but I've never seen anything other than fencing foils used," she frowns. "Fencing foils are light blades, usually with blunted tips, it's a competitive sport. Er. It is, now. Was." She shakes it off, not a time for comparative history rambles. "I'm really good with a small blade, but not even remotely applicable to this, not in a wepaonized sense. And I understand," she adds. "With me, at all times, within five meters or less. While working out the skill set to ensure that I retain control of the firearm at all times, no matter the circumstance," another glance sent toward Ynyr then back.

Ooh, this part has Ynyr's attention. He's real interested to hear about other worlds where the Machines use humans. How they are armed and trained, their tactics. Lleufer gives Valloy a nod and will pass it through the Security Hub but that is for someone else to decide, who's well above his pay grade, not him. "It would … be a good habit to get into carrying extra magazines, Doctor Nadir."

Lleu might remember this woman having a sense of humor, but it finds no traction in the ring. Valloy explains that some of the worlds live in a medieval atmosphere and that a Knight means something. Blades are a Thing. Yeah, they may be drawn, but guns are always the surprise. She demonstrates how to grab a sidearm and use it to kill. Then grabbing a rifle to the same extent — grab and pull, then shove into the jaw with a leg sweep. Then how to deal with long blades. Actual swords. The exercises go on for several hours, the nanites inside her learning and building muscle memory. When its all over, both Sam and Valloy have blood on their faces. Its been violent but worthwhile. As Valloy cleans up, she looks to Lleufer, "Sergeant Ynyr, I want her to draw to a single shot two hundred times a day. She has three days to place shots with accuracy to the head triangle. Eighty percent. Same to the chest. Single shots. I want the papers. Make her practice the rest of this." She gathers up her things and heads out.

Lleufer moves to stand, "I already have her on the range firing at least 200 rounds a day, single shot. I'll collect her paper targets and bring them to you, Major." He glances at Samtara, "Her groupings aren't that tight yet but I'll check the percentages. She also needs to learn to sight in." He lays his fist over his heart in the double tap, "I'll make it so, Sir."

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