Chapter 1: Day 2 Range Day!

DAY TWO — RANGE DAY
IISS Base, Pautho — Ironhand Compound

---

The Ironhand compound is already awake when Day Two begins.

Outside, pale morning light filters through high cloud cover, casting soft shadows across the compound. Systems cycle smoothly from night posture to day operations. Doors unlock on schedule. Security grids settle into routine patterns.

The range schedule for the morning is set. The plan is intact.

---

0600 — LAST CHANCE GRILL

The first thing anyone notices when entering the Ironhand galley is the smell.

Coffee. Real coffee.

Not shipboard concentrate. Not ration slurry. Actual brewed coffee—rich, sharp, unmistakable.

Then bacon.

Real bacon. Thick-cut, sizzling on the griddle. Not synth strips. Not marine-issue substitutes. The smell alone is enough to stop people mid-step.

A compact service robot glides near the entry.

Robot Barista:
"Good morning. Real coffee, grown in the hills of Pautho."

Behind the counter, two local Pautho nationals oversee the cooking robots.

One is a broad-shouldered man in his forties with close-cropped dark hair and a starport apron worn thin from years of use. He watches the griddle feeds with quiet confidence, stepping in only when needed. Beside him, a younger woman with her hair tied back and sleeves rolled to the elbow monitors incoming orders, checking displays and occasionally cracking eggs by hand. She looks at Ruiha smiles and gives her a wink. She see J.E.E.M. and frowns.

The eggs are fresh. Their shells are grey and slightly larger than Terran standards. Bread and rolls sit under a heat veil. Sliced meats, cheeses, and local jams—distinctly Pauthoan—are arranged with care.

Orders are taken by a hovering service unit. Once placed, diners are directed to take a seat. When ready, plates are delivered directly to the table—hot, efficient, precise.

Along one wall, a dispenser unit provides coffee and a thick green energy-protein drink with a sharp, vegetal scent. The barista robot monitors both.

---

Tsoukfaeks is already present.

She sits alone at a table at exactly 0600, eating a plate of grilled protein—something real, something local, something that once had legs. A ceramic mug of coffee rests within reach.

She watches the room as people enter.

As each Ironhand contractor comes through the door, Tsoukfaeks gestures them over briefly and hands them a wrist-mounted device—sleek, matte, Ironhand issue.

Tsoukfaeks:
"Ironhand standard issue. You might want to put it on."

Once secured, she explains evenly:

"It’s keyed to this building, the armory, the security gates, the IISS facilities, and the JCC. It also gives you unrestricted access to the grav tube network across the starport and the city. You can load your own applications."

She takes a sip of coffee.

"It’s a pain in the ass to re-key the whole system if one goes missing, so don’t lose it."

No further comment. She returns to her meal.

---

The galley fills steadily. Plates arrive. Coffee pours freely. The atmosphere is calm, efficient, professional.

Midway through breakfast, Tsoukfaeks rises and walks over to where J.E.E. Montgomery is seated.

She stops beside the table.

Tsoukfaeks:
"Montgomery. You’re running the range today."

That’s it.

No elaboration. No emphasis. Montgomery understands exactly what that means.

Tsoukfaeks moves on.

---

As breakfast winds down and people begin to stand, Tsoukfaeks pauses near the exit of the Last Chance Grill.

Tsoukfaeks:
"For today’s range activity, we need one person to self-identify as the medic."

She waits just long enough for that role to be claimed.
GM: Who volunteers?

Then she steps outside.

---

ARMORY — PREPARATION

The armory opens via Ironhand credentials—wrist comms or Ironhand tablets.

Inside, the racks lock every weapon and commo and optical equipment. The Ironhand wrist cmm device unlocks the weapon from the rack with a click. The person removing the weapon from it's rack location will see at the rack a time stamp indicating when the weapon rack lock was opened and by who.

Weapons are clean, inspected, and ready:

[]13× IH-4 Carbines (TL10)
[]50× IH-18 Compact Carbines
[]3× IH-15 LMGs
[]9× IH-7 Rifles
[]9× IH-10 Pistols
[]4× IH-GL40 Standalone 40mm Launchers

Standard Ironhand optics and radios are stacked neatly. The IH-VisionPak sunglasses stand out immediately—military style sunglasses in appearance, clearly high-end, seamlessly linking to wrist comms, comm dots, and tablets.

As someone passes the plate carrier, helmet, and optics racks, a holographic message projects softly:

"All training today takes place with eye protection and plate carriers."

Five minutes after the first person enters the armory, a second holographic notice appears:

"Ensure the Advanced Medic Kit is brought. One individual must self-identify as medic for range control."

Ammunition is already staged on the floor. Above it floats a simple label:

"Ammo for today’s training. Secure in the Ironhand grav truck outside after 0700."

Tsoukfaeks is not present.

She does not supervise.
She does not prompt.
She does not correct.

All roll task/attribute check: 8+ using the character's INT score and RECON as DM notice something.

---

MOVEMENT TO RANGE

Outside, the vehicles are ready.

A four-seat armored G-Carrier lifts smoothly. Tsoukfaeks indicates that Chaala and the medic go with her to the smaller four seater G-carrier. Tsoukfaeks takes the front seat. Chaala rides beside her. The selected medic takes a rear seat.

Tsoukfaeks indicates that Montgomery is charge of the grav truck. The grav truck carrying weapons, ammunition, and the rest of the team lifts behind them, hovering steadily.


As the G-Carrier clears the compound perimeter, Tsoukfaeks keys her comm.

Tsoukfaeks (over comm):
"TRC Control, this is Ironhand niner two. Requesting permission to depart the IISS compound and transit to the TRC range complex. Two vehicles, nine pax, departing time now."

There’s a brief pause.

Clearance follows.

The convoy moves out.

As they travel, Tsoukfaeks speaks to Chaala over the headset—not formally, not casually.

She outlines the intent of the day: fundamentals, confirmation of competence, controlled observation. No pressure. No theatrics.

Then she adds:

"I have initial observations of the team. I want yours. Strengths. Weaknesses. Dynamics."
(Response?)

Her tone makes one thing clear: she expects honesty.

The vehicles glide onward toward the range.

Day Two is fully underway.

Chaala is up early and arrives for mess already dressed for the range in her issued uniform pants and shirt. The only non-company issue she brings is her glasses, tucked into a pocket. She takes a meal that indicates she's planning for all day energy, not anticipating that lunch will happen; clean proteins and aiming for low glycemic fruits as much as she can being unfamiliar with the local supply.

At the armory, she smiles at the request for a medic to self-identify. "We've got doctors, I can tie a tourniquet and slap on a bandage. I'll let someone else handle that part." She doesn't look thrilled putting on the plate carrier, but does so competently, adjusting the straps for long term comfort within normal parameters.

0430 - Bohdie wakes up, pulls on some shorts and a t-shirt and slips out fora run around the compound. He uses the run as an opportunity to further familiarize himself with the compound. By 0530, he has returned, showered, dressed, and prepped his sleeping quarters. He took a moment to check on the rest of the group, making sure to arrive at the Last Chance Grill five minutes before 0600. He smiles as the smells of real coffee and bacon waft through the door.

Walking in, he makes his order with service unit and, seeing Tsoukfaeks wave him over, the 2+ meter tall human moves over to the solitary Vargr.

"Morning, ma’am," he greets her. He seems far more chipper than most humans are at this hour. And impeccably dressed in Ironhand cargos and polo. "A bit of local flavor?" he asks, indicating the grilled protein on her plate.

Tsoukfaeks hands him the wrist device and says, "Ironhand standard issue. You might want to put it on."

Bohdie takes the device and straps it on his wrist just above his Wrist chrono. "But I didn’t get you anything…" He grins goofily. Stylish. What’s it do? Personal cloaking device, maybe?"

"It’s keyed to this building, the armory, the security gates, the IISS facilities, and the JCC. It also gives you unrestricted access to the grav tube network across the starport and the city. You can load your own applications."

Bohdie nods with a disarming smile. "Ah. I knew it had to be something like that. No Classified Sciuridae (Secret Squirrel) stuff here.

She takes a sip of coffee.

"It’s a pain in the ass to re-key the whole system if one goes missing, so don’t lose it."

He lets the smile fall off his face naturally and is all back to business. "Got it. I’m guessing these don’t go off-world with us, otherwise the facility wouldn’t remain secure. Any environmental factors we need to be aware of? Moisture, dust, magnets, radio freqs, etc that might screw with it?"

(Wfr)

---

After breakfast, Bohdie makes his way to the armory with the others. He will draw an IH-4, IH-7 and IH-10. If nobody else does, he will also draw one of the IH-GL40s just for familiarization purposes.

Moving over to the Optics and Comms table, Bohdie will grab a pair if IH-VisionPak glasses and an TRX-12 radio. As he moves to the next station (armor), he notes the holographic message, shrugs and says, "Safety first." Grabbing as appropriately sized plate carrier and helmet, he makes sure the plates are, indeed, secure inside, particularly the ‘Chicken Plate’. He then takes the time to customize the rig for the equipment carried and his own perceived position in the team, making sure he has an admin pouch, appropriate holster and mag carriers, radio pouch, IFAK, hydration, dump pouch, etc. he does the same with his helmet before strapping it all on. Wow, I’ve not been in this loadout in a long time, he thinks to himself.

"Ensure the Advanced Medic Kit is brought. One individual must self-identify as medic for range control."

The message almost startles Bohdie, but he stifles the reaction. "Whoever is going to take the Primary Medic responsibility, I’m pretty sure you’ll have to speak up so the system hears and identifies you," he says, just loud enough to be heard over the noise of weapons and equipment being drawn and function checks being carried out.

Finally, he moves toward the Ammo and the door. While everything has, so far, been by the book, so to speak, Bohdie’s ‘spidey sense’ begins to tingle curiously. He pauses a moment and looks around the room…

Recon roll:

Wibur rose at 0500, determined to shake off the lingering fatigue of cryosleep. He prepared his uniform with care, showered, dressed, and reviewed the documents and schedule once more. At precisely 0600, he arrived at the mess.

Even before the doors opened, the rich aroma of coffee and bacon reached him, pulling a smile across his face. He greeted the serving robot warmly:
"Real coffee—what a treat. Thank you very much."

Turning to the cooks, he saluted:
"Good morning, I’m Wibur. Thank you for preparing real food—it feels like a dream come true."

Soon after, Tsoukfaeks signaled him over.
"Good morning, Ma’am," he said, as she presented a device. He strapped it to his wrist, examining it with admiration.
"A very fine piece of technology indeed. Ironhand truly impresses me—their quality shows how well they care for their people."
He nodded firmly when reminded not to lose it.

Breakfast was hearty, and after finishing he followed instructions to the armory. He selected an IH-18 Compact Carbine, an IH-7 Rifle, and an IH-10 Pistol, along with helmet and glasses. Declaring his role, he added:
"I’ll be the medic." He collected the medikit and settled at the rear of the transport.

When Tsoukfaeks asked about his skills, Wibur replied:
"I’m confident in tactics, adequate with firearms, but I’m no mechanic or engineer. I’ve commanded before, as a Marine Force Commander, yet I’m just as ready to follow orders."

Wake up: 0512

'Morning routine 2, version c/j.'

Jeribald's voice echoes in his head; the guy had a routine for everything and really stuck to it. John had memorised a few, here's the code for "breakfast together without enemy interference, but don't mess around". Great guy, long gone.

Activate joints and muscles, get the cardiovascular system going. A chair is more than enough to do everything. Shower, a cup of water. You can never drink enough. Dress correctly, check that the equipment is working. Finish at 0551, wait two minutes, go through all the names again, internalise behaviours, memories of previous breakfast routines.

‘Morning...’ "Oh, shut up, Jeribald", he says with a smirk and leaves his room.

Walking down the corridor between the rooms, his soles make a slight noise. He listens to see if the others have already left or are still getting ready. No wake-up call, no task, he leaves it at that.


Arrival in the dining room: 0556

The smell. His pace doesn't falter, but his nostrils flare. Well, that's a pleasant surprise. He nods to the robot barista, the typical gesture of someone who takes everything that moves seriously, especially anything that talks.

He also nods to Tsoukfaeks, another nod acknowledging the device's capabilities. He fastens it, shakes it a little, adjusts the wristband again before moving on.

The two behind the counter also receive a greeting nod, and he introduces himself briefly. They don't have to answer him, but he has a name and he's going to use it. He accepts the frown with ease - not his problem at the moment.

Eggs, bacon, bread with seeds, plus cheese and jam. On two separate plates, both filled with enough to get a man of his stature through the morning. Plus coffee and green juice.

He eats his breakfast with focus, nodding to everyone but only saying something when there is something to say that cannot be conveyed with a nod or a wave of the hand.

He licks his lips as Tsoukfaeks comes over to their table. Another nod. Then he calmly continues his breakfast, but behind his forehead there is a lot more going on: numbers, rules, procedures.

Another coffee and green juice, plus water for his canteen. When Tsoukfaeks informs them all again at the entrance, he sits up briefly and asks her:

"Ma'am, lunch arrangements – how are these organised?"

Otherwise, he simply goes with the flow of people.


Armoury: 0638

He pays attention to what people are taking while he first takes care of the protective equipment. Then he counts the weapons, takes out what the others are not taking, and arranges them neatly for a good overview.

"To be able to test everything, we'll take at least two of each handgun, but one LMG and one launcher will suffice. Who will help me carry them to the truck?"

He makes sure that someone claims the medical kit, probably Dr Shoon, but he doesn't carry it himself. Then he takes the passenger seat in the truck.

GM: The young cooks smiles sheepishly at Wilber which earns a frown from the larger male cook who says something to her and she shakes her head with a laugh.
GM: Tsoukfaeks just simple nods as he take the wrist comm
GM: Tsoukfaeks looks back at Wilber and then looks at Chaala and then puts her headset on. Wilber can't quite make out her reaction.
GM: Tsoukfaeks doesn't even look away from the route being holographically displayed in front of her as she responds;
"That is good to know Wilber, and I was not clear. Sorry about that. I meant what is your observations of the team members, their Strengths. Weaknesses. Dynamics." She then out of the side of her eye looks at Chaala;
"Same to you."

The armored Grav carrier displays shows a block outline that projects forward with speed, heading, altitude and distance to waypoint. In the lower right hand of the display Wilber being in the back and having to lean forward to be hear what Tsoukfaeks says can see the tactical display mini-map that shows 4 waypoints and a final RP (release Point) that map indicates is the TRC Training Range. It is north of the TRC Training Command facility that is the large Compound East of TRC portion of the Starport. All of which is on the map.

IH Vision-Pak
With Wilber experience he remembers that PRIS Sunglasses are sometimes linked to the vehicles within the unit (Tactics skill knowledge coming in here) and so he pulls out his IH Vision-pak sunglasses and finds they are PRIS glass and the glasses ask if they want to pair with his wrist comm

'Contractor Wilber Tholinar do you pair your wrist comm to this Ironhand Vision-Pak?'

If Wilber does,

The IH Vision-Pak glasses are immediately connected to the tactical information systems within the Armor G-Carrier, displaying a lot of information smartly configured for ease of use. Wilber has seen this type of system before.

In his immediate display consisting of the PRIS vision capabilities of -Passive vision/FLIR/Normal with digital zoom/ & UV, there is also displayed an icons for Tsoukfaeks and Chaala indicating there position in the compass portion. In this heads Up Display (HUD) the personnel are displayed as icons, portrayed as blue for friendly, compass bearing bearing azimuth dead center of this display at the top, and empty spot for the weapon and rounds left in the weapon)

Remembering some of his training on such devices, he cycles through the tactical information displays from individual tactical display that he first saw (HUD) to a tactical map display showing him the same tactical map with the graphics displayed for Tsoukfaeks. Then another screen showing the Armored G-Carrier's Driver's PRIS vision display, currently set for Thermal black hot view. Then an empty Weapons page, then a clear page (no graphics or inputs) and then a comms input page as the final page before it rolls back to the tactical page with Wilber's vision setting .

GM: J.E.E.M. can hear movement in the building as he wakes up....that makes him tense up, old reflexes from long ago...
Then realizes he hears cooks in the galley and not threats coming in the wire....
Tsoukfaeks
Tsoukfaeks looks at J.E.E.M. and her ears prick up
"Lunch at 1200 will be brought out to the range by those two lovelies match sure the robots don't make us sick. (she points to the Pauthoan cooks) Hot chow at the range with fluids for hydration. Good questions. Anything else?"
Tsoukfaeks seems happy with the inquiry
GM: J.E.E.M. needs to designate the driver, he is in charge after all....for the moment

Virel wakes at 0430. He washes, dresses, and remains in his quarters longer than necessary, listening to the rhythms of the compound and noting the actions of the others. Only once the flow of movement settles does he leave his room, arriving at the Last Chance Grill at precisely 0600.

He offers brief nods of acknowledgment to the others as they arrive. If spoken to, he responds politely and keeps any conversation light, never steering it, never extending it. For the most part, he watches and scans the room as they sit.

When Tsoukfaeks hands him the Ironhand access device, he accepts it with a short acknowledgment and secures it without comment. He gives it only a cursory glance; a proper examination can wait for privacy.

In the armory, Virel takes his time. He looks over the weapons methodically before selecting a rifle for himself. He says nothing, but commits the layout of the racks and the logging indicators to memory.

GM: Virel hears the movement of the local national cook contractors supervising the robots getting the Last chance Grill galley getting ready. He can tell due to the robot answers to the Pautho LN cooks and the responses back. Also the movement is not quite. Virel is pretty sure anyone up can hear it.
GM: Virel notices the racks are not old, and almost new, with maybe year or less of use. The wear and tear and lack of dust on the rack. He does notice the Weapons are at the end of the Armory and one passes the protective armor and gear, the ammunition storage cabinets, then the optics/comms before the weapon racks. The racks take up the wall in the back. It is laid out to cause an individual to spend time in the armory to get the weapon. Standard security protocol to weapons control.

Using the glasses, J.E.E.M. cycles through the offered screens, looking if there is anything included like licenses of the team. If he ist not successful, he will ask the guys who board the truck if they can drive it to the range and therefore tell one of them to move the vehicle.

It's not a classical military order, but more a matter of fact, a plain statement of the fact that this person is now driving to the shooting range. Calmly, polite, expectant.

Wilburg shifted slightly, caught off guard by the question. "Apologies, Ma’am. I thought you were asking about my own strength. As for my comrades, it’s still too early to judge—we’ve barely met.

What I can say is this: Mr. Mongommety carries himself with the bearing of a soldier. Mrs. Angushlii has the look of someone with para‑military experience—but I know Chaala, she was a scout, and I know her analytic mind is sharp. Mrs. Kilmire seems adept with people, which is no small asset. Mr. Hokuanokada has Marine experience, though brief. Dr. Shone is clearly a physician, and I am pleased to have him with us. I requested to be the Medic in charge,to ensure I understood his teaching in practice. Mrs. Trah Noh strikes me as more of the scientific type.

That’s all I can offer for now. We’ve only just met, and I’ll need more time before I can weigh their strengths and weaknesses properly."

Wilburg adjusted his glasses, flipping through the dossiers page by page, humming softly in approval at certain notes before moving on.

Hearing Montgomery ask about driving, Bohdie says, "I'll drive us out." he then takes a few minutes to familiarize himself with the IH VisionPak, quickly recalling how similar devices worked when he was in the Marines and the fact that they are not that different from his own personal eyewear.

DAY TWO — ARRIVAL AT TRC SMALL ARMS RANGE 2
Weapons Familiarization & Initial Evaluation

---

The convoy clears the automated security gate without pause. Sensors sweep the vehicles, credentials resolve, and the barrier lifts smoothly before settling back into place behind them. Beyond the gate, the access road continues north, cutting through scrubland and low berms before ending cleanly at the range complex.

The grav vehicles settle onto a broad apron of reinforced composite concrete—Duracrete—its surface smooth, grey, and marked with embedded alignment strips. This is the firing line pad: approximately twenty meters long and three meters wide, clearly designed for organized, controlled use rather than spectacle.

---

TRC SMALL ARMS RANGE Number 2 — LAYOUT
Directly in front of the Duracrete pad lies the firing area.

There are no permanent firing position. Instead, the firing points are marked in the dirt by small wooden boards, each barely twelve centimeters above ground level. Painted numbers on the boards designate lanes. Simple. Functional. Impossible to miss if you are paying attention.

Beyond the firing points, the terrain dips into a shallow depression for roughly one hundred meters. From there, the ground rises gradually for another one hundred and fifty meters, bringing it back to roughly the same elevation as the firing line.

At the crest—two hundred and fifty meters out—stand the targets.

At the last two firing points there are targets set 25 meters out. Obviously the Pistol firing points.

Each is a self-healing small-arms target, approximately forty-five centimeters wide and seventy-five centimeters tall. Embedded sensor strips are visible up close, and the surface carries a faint shimmer where previous impacts have already sealed themselves.

Behind the firing line sits a raised Duracrete control platform—about one and a half meters high, narrow but deliberate in design. A built-in roof canopy provides shade, with open sides all the way around. It is clearly meant for range control and observation.

Nearby, a simple sign marks the next key point:

AMMO POINT

Behind raised Duracrete control platform stands a covered support building—a pre-engineered metal structure, roughly 75 square meters or roughly 10 m wide and 7.5 m in depth. Concrete floors slope gently to drains. Inside are rows of stainless stand-up tables, clean and utilitarian. It is clearly intended for sustained training operations rather than comfort.

---

Tsoukfaeks steps clear of the lead vehicle and keys her radio.

Tsoukfaeks (over comm):
"Range Control, this is Ironhand Niner Two. Arrived at TRC Small Arms Range Two at zero eight two one hours, with nine pax, to conduct weapons familiarization training. Range OIC is Tsoukfaeks. Will notify when the range is hot and cold and maintain comms."

A brief pause follows.

Range Control (over comm):
"Ironhand Niner Two, Range Control. Range Two occupancy approved. Range OIC recorded as Tsoukfaeks. Monitor the net at all times. Range Control out."

Tsoukfaeks (over comm):
"Range Control, this is Ironhand Niner Two. TRC Small Arms Range Two is hot time now, maintaining comms."

Range Control (over comm):
"Ironhand Niner Two, Range Control. Acknowledged."

The channel goes quiet.

---

Tsoukfaeks points downrange once more.

Tsoukfaeks:
"Targets are tied directly into Range Control. Hits and misses are recorded automatically. Your IH VisionPak will link to the range net and display your impacts."

She taps the side of her own eyewear.

"There will be an adjustment period. Don’t assume you’re effective with it immediately."

Then she turns to J.E.E. Montgomery.

"You have the range."

She steps back to behind the raised platform area, taking a position where she can see the entire line—who moves, who hesitates, who speaks, and who waits to be told. It is apparent she is not supervising mechanics. She is evaluating people.

---

All of the characters know that the following should be set-up:

• Aid Point is established behind the firing line, stocked with the advanced medic kit and positioned for immediate access.
• Ammo Point is set at the marked location near the support building, with ammunition secured, staged, and controlled.
• Firing Line Control is organized, lanes assigned, and a rotation established to keep shooters moving without congestion.

Tsoukfaeks does not comment. She simply observes who naturally fills roles and who adapts to others taking charge.

This is weapons familiarization, not tactical movement. Shooters focus on fundamentals: stance, trigger control, reload mechanics, optics integration, and safe handling. The IH-GL40 is not used—this is a small arms range only.

---

TARGET HIT MECHANICS
Target numbers to hit at 250 meters:

• Prone (IH-4 / IH-7 / IH-18): 6+ (DM: Slug Gun Combat)
• Kneeling or Sitting: 8+ (DM: Slug Gun Combat)
• Standing: 10+ (DM: Slug Gun Combat)
• Gun CBT-0 negates negative modifiers.

IH-10 Pistol:
Same target numbers apply: prone 6+, kneeling/sitting 8+, standing 10+ (DM: Slug Gun Combat).

IH-15 LMG:

• Autofire imposes a -2 DM.
• If STR 9+, negate the penalty.
• Same target numbers apply: prone 6+, kneeling/sitting 8+, standing 10+ (DM: Slug Gun Combat).

Aiming:
With no return fire, shooters may take time to aim. Each aim increment grants +1 DM, to a maximum of +6.

VisionPak Adjustment:
The IH VisionPak does not provide its full benefit immediately. Once a shooter acclimates, the system grants a +2 DM, similar to a high-end smart or laser-linked optic. The moment it "clicks" is noticeable in shot placement.

There are 10 firing points each with a target at 250m and two firing points with targets at 50m.

Actions?

Chaala debarks when Tsoukfaeks does so and moves over to the other truck, ready to help offload ammunition to the shed. She waits for the passengers of that vehicle to touch ground and lets Mongomery take lead on organizing what goes where. When she has a moment, she will switch between her own optics and the Ironhand issue to famliarize herself with the difference in controls, spectral imaging, and other functionality.

Wilbur sets up at the Aid Point behind the firing line, the advanced kit opened and squared away at his feet. He takes a moment to scan the range — the low wooden lane markers, the shallow dip in the ground, the long rise toward the 250‑meter crest. Everything sits quiet and still. Good.

He stays standing, hands loose at his sides, letting the silence settle in. The medic role is still new, but the habit of assessing a field never left him; years of command taught him to read terrain before people. With the line not yet active and no calls made, he keeps his attention on the space itself — the firing points, the angles, the places where trouble could come from.

For now, he simply waits at his post, steady and alert, ready for the session to start.

Once Tsoukfaeks turns the range over to Mongomery, Bohdie will quickly (but with his long legs, this seems like a casual stroll) hustle over to the Ammo Shed and inspect it for any problems. He will also check for partitioned areas for use as potential CCP and Aid Station use. He notes the functionality of all the tables and of any lighting system. He also looks to see any flame suppression equipment and notes control surfaces. In short order, he returns and reports on the suitability of the building to Montgomery. Then he starts helping to move the ammo boxes into the location and sort them according to caliber.

When completed, he will prep his own ammo, then assist anyone else with their ammo. He runs quickly through the Manual of Arms on the weapons he has drawn, making certain to note any issues or concerns. Then he helps anyone else who might seem uncertain regarding the weapons to familiarize themselves.

Ruiha had one principle from her home, when you could, you eat, and you eat well, so following the others playing with the wrist device, she swallowed down the rest of breakfast. She understood the principles here warriors practised often to make sure they were ready to hunt or to go to war. The shaman had an old saying if you wanted someone to be good at the bow, you trained the parent.

"My weapon of choice is normally the shotgun, better when fighting in thin hulled ship," she gestured to her own weapon stored over her back "But when in Pautho I guess!"

Picking up a rifle she gave it the once over before releasing the catch and chambering a round, before sighting down the barrel and gently squeezing the trigger to fire off a shot.

After the Vargr has handed over command to him, he stands in front of the others. No nonsense like lining up and such, but in a clear posture that shows people are listening to him. After all, everyone wants to participate of their own accord. When he has everyone's attention, he begins to speak calmly and confidently.

"So, folks, I've been assigned this job today. We don't know each other very well yet, so let me briefly introduce myself officially – I'm J. E. E. Montgomery, but most people find that too long, so I'm usually called Jeem, which is fine with me. Today, we have three things to discuss."

He counts on his raised fingers, starting with his index finger:

"Safety. Both the handling and care of the weapons and our behaviour here on the range. We don't have to fight for space, so that's easy to manage.

Familiarity with the weapons, of course, but also with each other. I don't know which of you has training in which weapons and which of those available to us here you have already trained with. Then there are the glasses, which you just have to get used to, but which are really helpful.

And then there's the shooting itself. We have space, we have time, and we have ammunition. Depending on our level of training, we'll all be done in an hour or we'll need a day; we'll see. It's not about us all becoming sharpshooters; it's about us knowing who the sharpshooters are, who can send lead into the heath with precision and who only threatens the enemy and not their own side. And we can live very well with all three principles."

He goes to the side where he has lined up all the weapons from the armoury in order of size.

"All of you have already chosen your favourite weapons, and those will be the ones you will be practising with most of the day. However, I think it's important that everyone familiarises themselves with all the weapons so that you don't have to think too long in an emergency. Similar weapons mean simple logistics, and if I have to borrow a weapon, I should be able to handle it.

As a refresher for the experts, I'll briefly go over the general stuff, and those who don't know anything about it yet will get enough time and help after that."

He goes through the weapons one by one and briefly introduces them, showing how to load and unload them, as well as all the adjustment options. He is demonstratively slow with the LMG, then moves on to the GL40.

"We can't use this baby here on this facility, we'll have to go somewhere else, and using it would mean that everything, absolutely everything, would have gone wrong. However, you should all at least know what its effect is. It's enough if two or three of us can handle it. But more on that later.

Those who feel confident enough to act on their own should get the ammunition there and start by shooting with one of the selected weapons. Preferably something longer than a pistol at first. Those who want to go over the handling and/or theory again for safety's sake are welcome to join me."

Then he goes through the rules of conduct here at the range and adds the safety protocol that is in place. Everyone is given the opportunity to recount their training with weapons, whereby he himself clearly states that he is trained in laser weapons and not bullet weapons, so it will take him a while to get used to firing these weapons here, too.

After that, he leaves them alone and waits to see if anyone asks for his help, but positions himself so that he can point out these small, careless mistakes in the pseudo-routine to everyone. He is respectful when giving notices, but clear and concise.

With a nod, he accepts Ruiha's first shot, which promptly lands in the grass, and seems to have no problem with it and no comment to make.

DAY TWO — TRC SMALL ARMS RANGE 2 (LIVE FIRE BEGINS)
Range Hot — Weapons Familiarization Continues

---

The range comes alive quietly.

For now, every contractor who steps up to a firing point has selected the same weapon: the IH-4 Carbine. No pistols yet. No LMGs. No one reaches for a second platform. It is an unspoken consensus—start with the baseline, learn the common system, build outward.

That choice does not go unnoticed.

FIRST SHOTS

Ruiha is the first to fire.

She remains standing, brings the rifle up, sights downrange, and squeezes the trigger. The report cracks across the dirt field, sharp and clean.

The target remains unmarked.

In her VisionPak HUD, the feedback resolves a half-second later: the round passed high—at least half a target height over the silhouette. The system traces the trajectory clearly enough that there’s no ambiguity.

Ruiha exhales slowly. It then hits her as she looks down at the low wooden firing-point marker, then back at the distant targets. The thought hits her -Standing isn’t doing me any favors. GM Comment: I am writing the below which I do not like to do so I will not in the future. I will drop hints of what the character knows from the skill knowledge. Just making sure this is okay with everyone.
She drops down into the dirt, settles into a prone position, and begins to take her time—aligning body, breathing, and sight picture. She knows exactly what she’s correcting.

---

LEAD BY EXAMPLE

J.E.E. Montgomery notices something else almost immediately, that no one else has stepped forward yet.

---

AID POINT & CCP
Behind the firing line, Wilber has the aid point fully established by the time Bohdie returns from his inspection of the support building. between the two of them, it becomes immediately clear that for a team this small, the most efficient casualty collection point is the point of injury itself. There’s no distance to gain, no time saved by moving a casualty elsewhere unless the situation changes.

---

OPTICS & OBSERVATION

Chaala cycles between her personal glasses and the Ironhand-issued VisionPak, standing slightly aside from the firing line. The similarities are immediately obvious. Spectral modes. Passive vision. Thermal overlays. The fundamentals are the same.
The difference is the network.
The Ironhand VisionPak is live—fed by the IH/IISS/TRC systems. Shot tracking. Target feedback. Positional awareness. Data her own glasses cannot currently access.
It is more than an optic. It is an information layer.

---

Everyone roll for hits on the target.

Those going prone, their hit task number is 6+, skill DM is Slug+, first round -2. Snake eyes is an auto miss
Those kneeling, their hit task number is 8+, same as above for DMs
Those standing, their hit task number is 10+, same as above for DMs

If the character does not write going prone, I will assume the character is standing. When Montgomery takes the team through the IH-4’s controls, it becomes clear that nearly everyone—perhaps except Dr. Shone—has some degree of prior small arms experience.

PATTERNS EMERGE

GM Comment: the below all assumes that the characters firing the weapons...
What becomes apparent to Wilber, Chaala, and Bohdie—almost simultaneously—is that Montgomery has this under control.
He is not hovering.
He is not barking orders.
He is not micromanaging.

But the range is moving smoothly.

People rotate naturally.
Mistakes are corrected quietly.
Confidence builds without pressure.

The weapons themselves reinforce that ease.

• The IH-4, IH-7, and IH-18 share the same magazines.
• Controls are identical—same buttonology, same layout.
• Construction is monolithic: one-piece material forming body and barrel.
• The IH-18’s skeletonized folding stock and compact profile are the only real ergonomic departure.
• The IH-15 LMG is clearly built on the same core design, expanded to accept a belt-fed 6.5mm system.

Everything feels standardized. Familiar across platforms. Easy to transition between. Even without optics or laser attachments mounted, the interface points are obvious—nanotech attachment surfaces waiting for hardware that simply isn’t present today.

---

One more thing becomes obvious as people shift positions, drop prone, or stand back up: Pautho’s gravity—0.62G—changes everything.

Movements feel lighter. Recoil behaves differently. Transitions are faster, almost deceptively so. Anyone with prior experience is already compensating, consciously or not.

Ruiha and Bohdie feel ...like they are home on this planet, at least it is the air, the sounds and no less the lower gravity.

---

From the raised platform, Tsoukfaeks says nothing.

She watches.

And it is clear—to those paying attention—that she is not just evaluating marksmanship.

GM Note: David's Character is temporarily being NPC'd until he returns which should be after the holidays.

As Wilber and Bohdie are talking at the CCP, Dr. Tra Noy joins them, kneeling briefly to inspect the setup. She makes a few quiet adjustments—spacing, access angles, where specific items are staged—then looks up.

Dr. Tra Noy:
"The layout is good."
She glances downrange, then back to the two men.
"I understand the theory. I need help applying it out there."
She gestures toward the firing points.
"Can one of you—or both—help me?"

At the range she begins with the prone firing position, Bohdie corrects her body position so she is relaxed. Wilber ensures the stock to check weld allows for a good sight picture.

[f=color:green]Dr. Tra Noy:
"I am use to SMGs, and I almost took the IH-18, but I saw everyone else with the IH-4 Carbine, so I followed suit. This is similar, but a bit different than a short SMG.

Then a prompt appears on his screen of his IH Vision-pak® screen
Does Wilber Tholinar want to pair with Dr. Trah Noh's IH Vision-pak®?

The same message appears on Bohdie's screen

If Wilber or Bohdie connects this enables their IH Vision-pak® to her's and allow either one (or both) to monitor her shot placement and follow through after the shot, to assist her in this initial shooting evolution.

"I'm trained on slug throwers primarily, since they're in use on the widest range of planets. Rarely had need to carry more than a sidearm in the Scouts. I've fired a laser a time or two, but never really carried one. During the war, I had opportunity to see in action most of the weapons in theater, but my role was generally to avoid having to take up arms."

Chaala takes up the IH-4 and turns it over in her hands. "Not much to field strip, everything's sealed, but if it goes down, we may be down a weapons system until we can get it home for servicing. Standardized ammunition and carriers is good."

She takes her first shot standing up to get a feel for the rifle. She holds it almost casually, but the barrel never wavers and is only ever pointed at the ground or downrange. She registers her near miss and makes the weapon safe until everyone's had a chance to fire one.

Bohdie will help Dr. Trah Noh, allowing his VisionPak to pair. He speaks to her aim and recovery. Then he will demonstrate, swapping her view with his, as he sets up prone on the lane next to hers aims for one action, and squeezes the trigger.



IH-4 First Round:
Slug+2, Dex+1, Aim+1

Jeem lays down, in expectation of some recoil he presses the shaft intensely to his shoulder. Then he tests his shooting against his target until he gets the right feeling about it.

After helping Dr. Trah Noh, Bohdie will continue firing through the remainder of the mag, then switches firing position to kneeling for a mag, then standing to make sure he has a full familiarization with the IH-4.He will then do the same for the IH-7 (1 mag per stance).

Then he will move to the pistol range and repeat the process.IH-4 rolls: Prone-Slug+2, Dex+1; Kneeling-Slug+2, Dex+1; Standing-Slug+2, Dex+1, Aim+1
IH-7 rolls: Prone-Slug+2, Dex+1; Kneeling-Slug+2, Dex+1; Standing-Slug+2, Dex+1, Aim+1
IH-10 rolls: Prone-Slug+2, Dex+1; Kneeling-Slug+2, Dex+1; Standing-Slug+2, Dex+1, Aim+1

GM Note: David's Character is temporarily being NPC'd. Apologies David if I get your play style wrong.

Dr. Trah Noh
(after the firing line goes cold; she clears the weapon carefully, then sets it aside before speaking)

"Thank you. Both of you."

She nods once to Bohdie, then to Wilber.

"I am trained on compact automatic platforms. This weapon demands patience instead of aggression. You corrected that before I could ingrain bad habits."

A brief pause, then a small, thoughtful exhale.

"Body position first. Relaxed breathing with a pause next. Aim, then squeeze the trigger, not pull. That order matters more than a quick trigger, and you made that clear."

She taps the side of her IH Vision-pak®, reviewing the shot overlay for a moment.

"The pairing was… useful. Seeing the data while feeling the correction closed the gap faster than instruction alone would have."

Her gaze lifts back to them, direct but respectful.

"I appreciate that neither of you rushed me. You treated this as skill transfer, not evaluation."

A faint, professional smile—quick, but genuine.

"If I am required to carry an IH-4 operationally, I will do so competently because of this session. That matters."

She inclines her head—formal, deliberate.

"You have my thanks."

Wilbur hadn’t been able to assist Gansay as closely as Bohdie; he was on designated medic duty for the range detail. Even so, he offered what guidance he could.

He inclined his head when Dr. Tran Noh thanked him.

"An honour, Doctor. Next time, I’ll be able to give you more of my time."

When the range went cold, Wilbur stepped forward, boots crisp on the deck plating.

"Range Safety Officer Montgomery, requesting permission to fire."

At the RSO’s acknowledgment, he laid out his weapons with regulation precision, activated his visor display, and moved with the smooth, drilled efficiency expected of an Imperial Marine officer. He took the first weapon, fired three rounds kneeling, dropped to prone for three more, then rose to standing for the final three. His transitions were clean, almost mechanical, barely a heartbeat between positions or weapons.

Once finished, he cleared and safed each weapon, locked the actions open, and placed them muzzle‑forward on the bench. He secured his medikit, checked the brass bucket, and stepped to the exit line.

He turned back to the RSO.

"Range is clear. Request permission to leave the firing line."

Only after receiving the nod did he leave the range.

As he walked out, he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for himself:
"I hate slugs."

DAY TWO — RANGE DAY (PHASE TWO & CONCLUSION)
TRC Small Arms Range 2 — Late Morning to Early Afternoon

---

The range settles into a steady rhythm.

By mid-morning, every contractor has cycled through the full suite of Ironhand small arms: the IH-4, IH-7, IH-10, IH-18, and finally the IH-15 LMG.

The LMG draws immediate respect. It is noticeably heavier than the rifles and carbines—more mass forward, more inertia—but once prone, it becomes predictable. Short, controlled bursts prove to be the key. The first burst walks the rounds onto the target; point of aim is adjusted; the follow-up burst lands cleanly. When shooters rush it, the weapon pushes back. When they respect it, it behaves exactly as designed.

Targets take the hits as expected—sometimes decisively enough that the self-healing material needs several minutes to reconstitute before the next evolution can begin. During those pauses, shooters wait, hydrate, adjust optics, and quietly compare notes.

No one complains. This is how real ranges work.

---

Time passes without anyone needing to check a clock. Just when they finish with the IH-15, it is lunch time. It has been two and a half hours since the first shots were fired.

---

LUNCH — RANGE SIDE

A grav-truck approaches from the access road and settles near the support building. Two familiar figures step down—the same Pauthoan cooks from the Last Chance Grill. They unload insulated containers with practiced ease. Inside are sandwiches—simple, clean, and generous. Vegan and non-vegan options are clearly marked. Water is stacked alongside, cold and plentiful. No fuss. No ceremony. The cooks offer brief nods, wait until everything is accounted for, then depart as quietly as they arrived, the grav-truck lifting and gliding back toward the compound. The range goes quiet again—this time by choice.

---

Tsoukfaeks stands where she can see everyone and finally speaks.

Tsoukfaeks:
"Thoughts. Feedback. Weapons. Optics. Range."

She does not prompt further. She listens.

Actions? Feedback?

---

RANGE POLICE & RECOVERY

When the last sandwich wrapper is cleared away, Tsoukfaeks looks to Wilber.

Tsoukfaeks:
"Wilber. Take charge of range police and weapon maintenance. Weapons cleaning is at the Ironhand facility"

Actions?

---

RETURN TO BASE

The convoy reforms and lifts smoothly from Range 2. The automated gate recognizes the vehicles on approach and opens without delay.

Back at the IISS base and Ironhand facility, weapons are carried into the armory for cleaning, inspection, and turn-in. Cloths come out. Solvents are applied. Carbon is scrubbed away. The monolithic construction makes the process efficient—everything disassembles and reassembles cleanly, predictably. By the time the last weapon is racked and logged, the day’s work is done.

---

Tsoukfaeks watches the final turn-in, then speaks again—this time more conversational, though no less deliberate.

Tsoukfaeks:[/b]
"Looking ahead, when you do take liberty, I recommend remaining within the Entertainment Strip and Starport Core districts unless escorted. There is a Vargr enclave restaurant I will personally recommend for those inclined toward something more adventurous—excellent food, strong spirits, and a social atmosphere that tends toward loud, friendly, and informal rather than confrontational. It’s a good place to relax, make contacts, and remember that not every offworld interaction needs to be transactional."

She waits a beat, then adds:

"I know a place. Good music. Good food. No trouble. A decent introduction to Pautho."

A faint hint of teeth shows.

"The 🐺 Red Howl House.

She pauses for a beat
"If you have enough of me today and don't want to unwind in my presence, I get it. I can suggest a couple of alternatives. In you tablets is general information on the entertainment district, where to get a good meal and drink. You will get an aleart on your wrist comms when your accounts are funded."

On the Tablets and wrist comms are two files:
LINK To Wiki page Handout: IH Guide to the PAUTHO – DISTRICT 3: ENTERTAINMENT STRIP Guidance
LINK To Wiki page Handout: Currency in Theta Borealis — Poisha First, Imperial Credit Second
Then everyone will see a Ironhand message in their IH wrist comm band, after a message haptic alert

---

[IRONHAND // WRIST-COMM DISPLAY]

Signal: (Strong)
Power: 87%
Local Time: 1111-274 | 15:22:36L

---

[FINANCE ALERT]
PRIORITY: ROUTINE

---

ACCOUNT CREDIT CONFIRMED

---

➤ Balance Update: +3,750 Poisha
➤ Exchange Value: ≈ 1,000 Credits

---

HAPTIC FEEDBACK
• Short double-pulse detected — confirmation acknowledged

---

ACCESS METHODS

• Funding Exchange Dispensers — Pautho
• IH Wrist-Comm Band — Local Debit Enabled

---

Poisha accepted at Ironhand-approved vendors and facilities.
Verify acceptance when operating outside Pautho.

---

Issues detected?
Contact Ironhand Finance via secure support channel.

---

STATUS: VERIFIED
AUTH CODE: IH-FIN-PAUTHO-77


ACTIONS?


Dr. Trah Noh adjusts her glasses as the last of the weapons are logged and the armory doors cycle shut. She watches the room for a moment—Montgomery and Bohdie already talking logistics, the others easing out of range posture—then turns slightly toward Ruiha and Chaala.

Her voice is calm, precise, and unmistakably professional.

"Speaking purely for myself," she says, hands folding loosely in front of her, "I am very much ready for something warm to eat, a proper glass of wine, and a safe ride back to quarters afterward."

She glances briefly in the direction of the others, then back to them.

"I don’t know what the gentlemen have planned," she continues evenly, "but I would prefer to tag along with the two of you, if that would be acceptable."

There’s no hesitation in her posture—only quiet certainty.

"I find that ending a long day with people who communicate clearly tends to reduce… unnecessary variables."

A faint, polite smile touches her expression—measured, academic, and sincere—before she waits for their response.

Feedback:

Weapons-Bohdie begins his analysis. "Deese are solid weapons (did he say weapons or veapons). I noted no functional issues on the range (the "r" trilling slightly). Dey hafe tight tolerances, but not so tight as to cause malfunctions. De interfaces vith da FisionPak Glasses is excellent. I vould consider purchase for personal use after additional research."

Bohdie looks around and notes some concerned reactions. He takes a deep draw of water from his hydration system, forcing down his embarrassment. "Apologies. Old habits." He takes another swallow and continues, now without the accent.

"The optics," he says, fiddling with his VisionPak, "Are high-end. The thing that somewhat sets them apart is the IronHand link. Thus far, all the equipment seems top notch."

Bohdie taps his glasses a few times to bring up the range. "As for the range, it is adequate for what we did here. More than that and I have to assume there are more dynamic ranges to come."

---

Bohdie helps clean up the range, participating in the police call efficiently. When they get back to the base and begin breaking down and cleaning the weapons, Bohdie will efficiently clean the weapons he used and check them back in. He helps with anyone who is having a hard time and will help inspect the weapons to make sure they are properly cleaned and reassembled.

---

Bohdie listens to what Tsoukfaeks regarding the entertainment district and cocks his head in curiousity when she mentions the Red Howl House. "Sounds intriguing."

Listening to Dr. Trah Noh, he says, "Works for me. I’m actually quite fond of Vargr cuisine."

Chaala listens to Bodhie's take on the equipment before adding her thoughts. "I like the optics, very similar to my own but razor focused on mission needs. They do make me wonder how many spares are on site and if we'll be issued a spare set or two for field ops. It was made clear to me that there's not much repair capacity for tech that's on the cutting edge on Glisten and this seems to be that."

"As for the weapon systems, I'd say that they're competent examples which clearly had the input of experienced soldiers and not just bureaucrats ond functionaries. I'd prefer my magrail, but this makes more sense for the theater of operations."

--

Chaala also participates cheerfully in policing, since it signals the end of range operations and a return for food and what passes for liberty on this assignment.

--

When discussing entertainment plans for the evening:

"I'm up for anything, really. If possible, I'd prefer not to spend all night in one spot since I want to see different aspects of the local culture. We won't see it all and nothing near a Starport is ever like the rest of it's society, but I want as close a look as we can without violating orders."

At Tsoukaest’s question — "Thoughts. Feedback. Weapons. Optics. Range." — Wilbur answers:
"I’m not fully at ease with slug weapons; all my active duty was with energy systems. But the range is adequate, and the equipment is good quality."

---

After lunch, now formally assigned as Range Police and Weapons Maintenance, Wilbur gathers the squad’s attention.
"Alright, listen up. The range has been cold since before lunch, but we still have work to finish. Clear your stations and police your brass.
For those without military background: that means leave the range spotless. If it hit the dirt, it comes with us. Cases can fly far, so check around your lane.
Move with purpose — we’re catching up on what should’ve been done earlier."

Wilbur follows the squad, inspecting each lane after they pass. He nudges a forgotten case with his boot, picks it up, and continues checking. He verifies the containers of unused ammunition, counting carefully. When finished, he approaches Montgomery, standing at attention.
"Range Officer, ammunition accountability as follows:
500 rounds issued. 134 expended. 366 returned unused.
132 cases recovered; two unaccounted for, likely beyond the firing line.
All ammunition accounted for."

He turns back to the squad.
"Weapons cleaning will be done at the Ironhand facility. Each of you is responsible for the weapons you brought. I’ll supervise. I want them properly cleaned — I want to see my reflection in the chamber.
You’re not done until I’m satisfied. And as a bonus, the last one to finish gets to clean the LMH — with my help.
If you’ve got questions about cleaning, ask. And don’t hesitate to help each other. I’ll lead from the front."

Finally, he faces Tsoukaest, standing at attention.
"Ma’am, they’re all yours."

---

During cleaning, Wilbur concentrates on his own weapon but regularly steps away to check on everyone, offering gentle guidance and correction. When he finishes before some of the others, he moves to assist them, explaining why weapons must be spotless:
"A dirty weapon is a recipe for an accident, and a poorly oiled one will fail you faster than an enemy will.. Be thorough — it can save your face or your life.
Tip: when you draw a weapon, check the barrel. If it’s not satisfactory, return it, say why, and take another. We’ve got enough enemies already — don’t let your weapon become one."

He naturally ends up helping extensively with the LMG as well.

---

After turning in the weapons, Wilbur smiles at Tsoukaest’s invitation.
"Ma’am, I’ve always wanted to try Warg food. It’ll be a treat to go to the Red Howl House."

Virel spends the first part of the range evolution watching rather than rushing to the line. When his turn comes, he brings the IH-4 up without ceremony and works methodically, letting familiarity settle in alongside the subtle differences in recoil and movement. The lighter gravity is noticeable, but not disruptive; he adjusts without comment. For the remainder of the session, he does exactly what is expected of him: following instructions, rotating through platforms, and observing. When talk turns to liberty and Tsoukfaeks mentions the Red Howl House, Virel doesn’t immediately respond, waiting for a consensus. Seeing the group seems to be inclined to go together, he gives a small nod and adds evenly, "The Red Howl House sounds… agreeable."

As for Chaala's comment. He nods towards her before glancing at the others briefly and says, "That seems reasonable." Then a brief pause to look towards Tsoukfaeks, "So long as we stay within guidance."