Lieutenant JG Roy Bancroft - Fair. Enough?
Carter Schimpff
(OOC: Chris and Karen, thank you both for your patience. Life has slowed back down!)
(( Holodeck 1 - Deck 2 - USS Artemis-A ))
Bancroft: Ready, ma'am.
Storm: Give me five shots this time.
The instructor and other student watched his mechanics as he began. Five shots later, Storm asked:
Storm: What’s your opinion of the Lieutenant’s shooting, Imril?
Imril: It looks fair to me, Lieutenant.
Roy arched an eyebrow. ‘Fair’ was one of those damning-with-faint-praise words. The kind people used when they didn’t want to say ‘underwhelming,’ but weren’t quite ready to lie. ‘Fair’ was also what you called a souffle that hadn’t collapsed, but probably still shouldn’t be served to guests. It was also – not coincidentally – the exact opposite of how Roy Bancroft had been raised to perform.
Which was fine.
Probably.
He was working on it.
Bancroft: ::lopsided smile:: ‘Fair’ is a bit more than I think I’ve earned, but thanks all the same, buddy. Lieutenant Storm, what do you see?
He stepped back, resetting his stance with practiced calm, phaser angled downward, posture neutral, safety on.
Storm: First off, do you always close your left eye when you shoot?
The question surprised him. He’d braced for notes on mechanics – wrist angle, shoulder tension, maybe stance. Something he could stretch his way through. Not… ocular habits.
Bancroft: I… well, yes, I suppose I do.
Storm: Don’t. Shoot with both eyes open. It may feel awkward at first. But over time, it will help improve your aim. Next question. When you aim at the target, where are you actually looking?
Ah. Now it was starting to make sense.
Roy’s brow furrowed in thought. The pieces clicked into place as he gave voice to what he now realized he’d been doing instinctively.
Bancroft: I’m aiming at the target… as to looking, I suppose now I think about it I’m really looking at the targeting reticle. I’m watching the scalpel, not the incision, maybe?
He offered it as a metaphor, but there was some weight behind it. Many years of detail-focused diagnostics, where the tiniest misstep could mean the difference between healing and harm. It was a hard habit to break.
Storm stepped in front of the target with deliberate calm – unhurried, grounded. She wasn’t just interrupting his line of sight. She was asserting presence. It wasn’t confrontational. It didn’t have to be.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
Storm: Now, look at the target. ::She watched his eyes:: No…I’m not moving. Look at the target.
He tried.
Really, he did.
But she was standing there, black eyes and composed intensity, and it felt vaguely like trying to meditate in front of a Klingon weapons inspector.
Bancroft: ::confused:: Ma’am… how can I look at the target with you standing in front of it?
Storm: Look through me at the target. And when I eventually move, I want you to do the same thing still. Look through the target. ::Turning to Imril, and walking to the side.:: Your turn, Lieutenant. Five shots at the target.
Oh.
It wasn’t about optics. It was about focus. The kind you needed in a trauma bay, with blood on the floor and beeping in your ears and ten voices screaming for your attention. You had to see past all of that – to what mattered. Block out noise. Prioritize. Focus.
Imril moved into position with the quiet economy of someone who preferred results to spectacle. Roy stepped aside, posture more relaxed now, but mind still spiraling through his own performance like a diagnostic scan stuck on loop.
He wasn’t embarrassed. Not exactly. But he was already cataloging errors with the same intensity he usually reserved for surgical follow-ups or conversations with his mother.
Imril adjusted their grip. Realigned. Steadied.
Imril: .oO(I am the law!)Oo.
The phaser whined five times in quick succession. Roy watched as three of the hits burned across the target’s ribcage, the other two landing in the abdomen.
The target’s midsection now looked like it had lost a particularly violent debate with a chili dog.
Bancroft: ::lightly competitive:: Alright, alright, now you’re just showing off. That target’s got one hell of a case of indigestion now.
Storm: Response
Imril: I think I did alright. But I could have done better.
Roy considered that. Imril was a perfectionist too – just of a different variety than Roy was. The shots were, to his eye, respectable. Not perfect, but clean. And, more importantly, adaptive and improving.
Bancroft: The grouping looks solid to me. I’d say you’d want more of the shots to land in the thoracic area for better effect – but I could be way off-base on that. Target’s down for the count, that’s for sure.
Storm: Response
Imril: I didn’t completely re-aim for every shot, no. I made adjustments based on where the last shot hit. Too high, angle lower. Too far right, go a teeny bit left. Accuracy versus speed of fire is always a trade-off, I know.
Bancroft: From what I remember, that mostly comes down to field application, right? ::beat:: Higher volume at the expense of accuracy is good for suppressing or covering fire… slower, more deliberate shots make more sense when you’ve got time and fewer targets. Did I get that right?
Storm/Imril: Response
Bancroft: …So just to clarify, the appropriate time to throw one’s phaser at a target is… never?
Storm/Imril: Response
TAG/TBC!
===
Lieutenant JG Roy Bancroft
Medical Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240205RB1