Salvadore Lanzo, 96BA52 Human Male, 2.1m, 87 kg
ENLISTED IN NAVY, assigned to Gunnery Branch.
1/1 Basic (Ship’s Lasers) and Advanced (Commo) Training
1/2 Strike, earned a CSR, learned Gambling
1/3 Patrol, earned +1 DEX
1/4 Training, made E2
Failed Re-enlistment, earned a Low Passage at severance.
ENLISTED IN MARINES at age 22, (currently age 30)
2 Terms Marines, 2 CSR, currently E4
Ship’s Lasers-1 Commo-1 Gambling-1
Combat Rifleman-2 Tactics -1 Mech -1 Vacc -1
1/1 Basic (CRM) and Advanced (CRM) Training, Rhylanor.
1/2 Internal Security, Rhylanor Starport, made E2
1/3 Internal Security, Rhylanor Starport (again!)
1/4 Training, Imperial Marine NCO school, Regina, made E3, learned Tactics...
2/1 Cmd Counter Insurgency against Ine Givar rebels, earned a CSR, learned Mechanical
2/2 Cmd, Internal Security for Oberlindes Lines Imperial Trade representative
2/3 Cmd Ships Troops, Beta Squad, INS Kinzeera, made E4, learned Vacc
2/4 Cmd Internal Security, Research Station Hostage Response Team, Vreibefger
HISTORY: Salvadore Lanzo (born 122-1071, Inthe B575776-9 * ^ Agri) grew up in a rather poor family -- his father was an assistant cook in a mediocre starport restaurant, and his mother worked in a factory. Sal wanted to do better than his parents, but he certainly couldn’t afford college. The answer came during a commercial on the vids – Sal would enlist in the Navy.
A quick talk with the recruiter on the day after his 18th birthday, and it was all set. He reported to Imperial Naval facilities on Inthe, and ended up in Gunnery Branch where he learned to fire the big guns on a starship, as well as use and maintain radio gear. He was soon posted to the CE Gazelle, where he saw some action during a Strike mission. The highpoint of that cruise was when Sal had a very good winning streak at Blackjack. He continued aboard the Gazelle for another year of Patrol, and developed his reflexes doing agility maneuvers in the ship’s cramped gym. His training stint at the subsector capital Rhylanor was utterly forgettable, except for his promotion to E2. Soon his term was up.
Salvadore Lanzo was a fair, but not spectacular Spacehand, as far as the Navy was concerned. True, he had some combat experience aboard a ship, but rather than focus on the skills typical of his branch, he could usually be found in some dark corner of the ship or base, throwing dice, doing fancy shuffles and other tricks with cards, or scanning the racing forms. The brass just weren't sure if he could be salvaged, or if he was worth the effort to do so. He was convinced he didn't have a problem, but the Navy therapist he saw twice stated flatly that he was a compulsive gambler. While this was nothing in and of itself, the mediocre results on his reviews were quite informative. Following the final year of his first term he received a notice that the Imperial Navy no longer required his services. As the ultimate insult, his only severance benefit was a Low Passage. The hazards of cold sleep were not very appealing at the moment, so Sal was stuck for a time on Rhylanor.
He was shocked, depressed, and disgraced. He wanted to be somebody, somebody more than his Pop who scrubbed pots in a restaurant for a living, and somebody better than his Mama who worked double shifts in a boring factory. He was disgusted with the Navy, the @#$% snobs. But what was he to do? He was 22 and unemployed. There just wasn't a big demand for people who could shoot big Naval guns, other than in the Navy. The Merchant Service might take him, but there Sal would have his choice of greasy pirate-types, or Corp weasels in Suits, and his history with authority types of that cut was not very successful.
Sal had the brains to be successful, and he was determined to do so. But he had better do so fast, as his funds were running low, and he didn't want to be living with Pop and Mama when he was 40! Furthermore, they were 7 parsecs away, and passage back to Inthe was beyond his means at this point. Even the Low Passage the Navy issued him wouldn’t be of much use. Sal couldn’t stand the thought of using it anyway.
He did the only thing that he could do -- he marched into the Marine Recruiter's office at the Starport and pleaded his case -- that he wanted a second chance, that he was intelligent, that he was not a quitter, and obviously, he was in better-than-average physical shape. The recruiter considered just tossing this smart-mouthed foul-up out the door, but then he consulted a few notes, and realized he was way under quota for the month. What Sal was asking was highly irregular, but the recruiter called a SGT MAJ friend of his who was in really good with a COL, and soon Sal was stepping off a vehicle at 0400 into a courtyard full of big mean and ugly dudes yelling at him... Sal endured more during boot camp than most recruits. Soon word was out about where he had spent the last four years of his life. The DIs were merciless upon him, and even the other recruits shunned him. But Sal wouldn't quit, and somehow, he made it through Boot. He earned an above average rating in marksmanship.
Thus far, he has served 2 terms in the Marines, mostly as starport security. He saw some action against Ine Givar rebels, and actually had to assume command of his section when the SGT was mortally wounded. Currently, when the spot of Commo Specialist was vacant aboard the INS Miller, he applied and was accepted. He feels his job as Commo Spec is important, and he'll give 120% to get it done. He’s worked hard to fight back the one lingering spectre in his personality – the gambling problem. At any rate, he has amassed Cr 30,000 thus far from his pay and winnings combined. He harbors resentment towards the Navy, and probably (unfairly) against many Naval characters--especially spit and polish types or Academy jocks. "Yeah, alot of Marines *are* idiots, but alot of Swabbies are *snobby* idiots."
DESCRIPTION: Sal is relatively tall, olive-skinned, and in good shape. He wears his jet black hair in a Marine-issue crew cut. His off-duty clothing would be stylish, almost to the point of being trendy. While he doesn’t have a chestful of medals to show off, he takes great care when wearing his dress uniform.
PERSONALITY: Sal is somewhat of a loner. He dislikes Naval personnel, (but is more accepting of ratings, than Officers or Petty Officers). The label “compulsive gambler” has been in his file since his Naval career, although that problem is not as severe as in the past. Sal is intelligent, generally quiet, but sometimes a smart-mouth. He is overly organized, and anxious to do well in his new posting. His interests include (aside from gambling), restoring / repairing old radio and audio equipment, listening to music (classical and improvisatory), and reading (history and biographies).
First three posts:
Sal laughed at himself. He had hoped the posting to the /Miller/ would prove to be something different for him. It seemed as if half his career had been spent guarding starports or residences of minor political mucky-mucks. With 8 years in the Marines, it would only seem natural for him to have more shipboard experience. Such was not the case -- this was only his second shipboard assignment. That is not counting life before the Marines, if there was such a thing. But that was another story altogether...
First on his mind, he had met hardly a soul since coming aboard. Well, that wasn't accurate. He was introduced to a few of the Marines, and even some of the swabbies nodded his way. Swabbies, though, are earthworms, and have no souls, so technically they don't count. Ah, maybe some of the grunts down below had a few too many credits and wouldn't mind donating them to the Sal Lanzo Retirement Fund, over a friendly game of cards, naturally. Maybe later.
As an E4, he was sandwiched somewhere in the middle of the Officers and the Grunts. This situation was amplified by his position in the Marine Unit's command structure. He was part of the HQ section -- the Commo Specialist to be exact. So far that had it's good points, as well as some grey areas. Overall, Sal was contented with his position, rank, and seniority in the current situation, at least given the limited time for his to have an opinion on these things. He was doing something challenging, interesting, something that required more than the two brain cells it took to pull a trigger or pound some other dude in HTH. Running Comms for the unit would be an interesting assignment. Hopefully the others in HQ section would turn out to be competent and decent beings at the same time, especially the officers. They were who he'd be working with the most. Working closely with officers?... Creator! What were you thinking, Sal?....
E4 Sal Lanzo, Commo Spec,
Marine HQ Unit
Aboard Bridge, INS Miller
Sal no doubt had a lot of gear to inventory, protocols to establish, probably every blessed Comm in every blessed Vacc Suit or Combat Armor helmet would have to be gone over. Hey, no lack for things to do here. But, finally, he was aboard a ship, and would be going somewhere, both in the literal and figurative meanings of that phrase.
And if there was a problem, too bad, Sal, you're a Marine, deal with it, man. Hoo-yah! Usually he had been a line Trooper, or even a Squad Leader on an occasion or two. Now, aboard the Miller, he was relieved of some of those responsibilities, yet he had others to take their place. Other than being around officers a large percentage of the time, the one other challenge that stood out in his mind was dealing with swabbies. Most of the other grunts could hide down in the bowels of the ship, and not have contact with that offensive breed, but Sal was at some point going to have to meet the Naval Commo Officer, and probably the Computer Officer as well, so that they could coordinate communications and related information processing between the two services. So with all the importance of working with the HQ unit looming on the horizon, and 10K or more things to do to whip Comms in shape, (Hey, it's Marine gear, and the typical Marine's idea of fixing something is usually giving it a slight pounding with a clenched fist)
So all of this to do, and here Sal was, standing watch on the @#$%-ing Bridge. The powers that be no doubt read in his file under various Internal Security assignments and saw that he was highly proficient in standing in place for long periods of time with a blank expression on his face.
Creator, duty was boring. Nothing much going on. Sal strained to hear what he could of Comms, trying to assemble the bits and pieces into a meaningful whole, without making it too obvious that he was, well, let's just call it paying attention. He had multitasked nearly his entire life. Or as his Pop said when working in the dishroom, "juggling hot plates". So he could remain vigilant, do his job, while at he same time listening to what was going on with Comms, and puzzling out his position in the scheme of things aboard the /Miller/
May as well get this over with. Hey, after all, you're on the bridge you fool. Maybe it wouldn't be too much a breach of protocol if he'd approach the Commo Officer after going off duty, and then set up a time to meet and discuss Comms. What was the person's name over there... yeah, there, LT Sinclair. Sal nodded his way.
Finally, it became obvious that something more than a little unsual was brewing while the /Miller/ remained dockside. Upon hearing the word ALERT, Sal quit thinking of 6 things at once and focused 100% on his job -- Security of the Bridge and Bridge Personnel.
Alert. Roger that. Something *was* going down. Comm traffic was very often like taking the pulse of any given situation. So If something was going down, it would be incumbent upon these @#%$ swabbies to pull us outta this shooting-gallery-of-a-parking-lot-for-tin-cans and go tactical, or whatever it was they did when the manure appeared ready to slide or slosh downhill. Sal gently patted the military snub pistol in its holster on his right hip, more out of just ensuring it was *there*, than any sick, unnatural fascination with weaponry.
Alright, hey! Sal is a Marine. Some degree of fascination with weaponry *is* natural. He caressed the basketwork of the cutlass at his left side. Strange how just those two weapons put him at ease, even though their sphere of influence extended only to the immediate area of the Bridge. Sal took a non-threatening, yet strong stance at the appointed place, awaiting further instructions. And his backup man....
E4 Sal Lanzo
Bridge, INS Miller
Sal Lanzo had made his decision. Protocol be damned -- he would offer to help with the signal problem. This ship was full of dumb grunts that could watch the %$#@ door. He was the Marine Commo Specialist. He saw this as just an extension of his job. Plus, he would eventually have to make liason with LT Sinclair anyway, so that they could coordinate Comms between the Swabbies and Jarheads...
Problem was, Sal detested dealing with Swabbies. This was beyond the usual Navy-Marine emnity. He had firsthand experience with them -- a single tour in the Navy back when he was 18, right out of school. He made such an impression that he got booted after his first term. It almost ruined any chances of him having any career to speak of, but after spinning wheels awhile, he fast talked his way into the Marines. All for the better. Hoo-yah!
A relatively tall, olive-skinned man in good shape spoke up. He was confident, and perhaps a bit cocky if the truth be known. His name and rank were evident from his uniform -- E4 Salvadore Lanzo. He did seem to grit his teeth while speaking, as if in pain.
"Sirs, Respectfully... and if I may be so bold... I'm Lanzo, the new Marine Commo Specialist. I'm offering my assistance with the signal problem. I might be outta line, but I could help with the current situation, and any ole grunt could take my place here guarding the door. If you see fit, call the duty officer, have him send someone up to relieve me, and I'll help out however I can."
Great, thought Sal. First interaction with Swabbies and Ring Polishers aboard this crate, and I'm ordering the Captain around. Good thing the ceiling's so low, they only be able to raise their eyebrows sooooo high. Should prove to be a real memorable cruise...
E4 Salvadore Lanzo
Marine Commo Specialist