The honorable thing
The honorable thing.
Summary: Desusa gives Gars his review. They still don't see eye to eye on anything.
Date: 38 ACH
Related Logs: None

Locale: Marine Offices

Desusa is sitting at his desk, all alone right now with the desk sergeant near the door. He shifts thru some files, as he waits for his page to be answered.

The hatch opens and Gars steps inside. Taking a quick look around, he eventually stands at attention. "Corporal Gars reporting as per orders" he says.

The desk sarge points to Desusa's desk and say nothing more. "Corporal, front and center," says Raul in a formal way. He flips thru another page.

Gars almost marches as he moves over to Desusa's desk, stomping hard against the flooring as he assumes 'Atention' before the major with an accompanying "Sir!"

"At ease," says the major without taking his eyes off the report. A few seconds more pass, and Raul speaks again, "First of all, Corporal, I want to let you know that my evaluation of your last engagement, is to put it simple, satisfactory. You demonstrated that you are able to collaborate with your team, and your marksmanship was on the dot as well." He picks up a small water bottle he's got over his desk and drink, letting that sink in.

Gars stands down from attention as instructed, but keeps his eyes on the far wall behind the major. "Thank you, sir" is his simple reply to the brief praise.

Desusa sets the water down and nods once, flipping another page afterwards, "How did it feel to get back in the saddle after a while?" He is keeping his tone casual.

"Beyond compare, sir" Gars says, eyes never leaving the spot found across the room.

Desusa nods once more, frowning a bit but keeping his eyes on the papers in front of him. "Excellent. Now, another question," a pause, "Do you like to contradict the orders tossed to you, Corporal? You did that one or twice back there, and I wanna know if that situation will repeat itself?" Still keeping a civil voice.

"Sir. I contradict orders on squad-level if they don’t make any frakking sense, sir" Gars says, eyes never leaving the far wall. "Hazzard could have secured the intersection and had he thrown a frag down the corridor, he would have killed those hostiles. Calling him back was a rookie mistake, sir. Then, someone tossed a flashbang without giving the call. We were damn lucky the idiot didn't blind us all, who ever it was, sir. Since we did not secure that intersection, the enemy could have thrown a grenade around the corner and killed or maimed most of us, and they could have kept feeding us grenades without us able to do a damn thing about it. So to answer your question, sir; If FUBAR orders are given in a combat situation, and I am nearby to give sane, and tactically correct, orders… Yes, sir. I will contradict any frakker that is about to get my fellow marines killed for no good reason, sir."

Desusa stays quiet for a few moments, "Fair enough. I like marines who can crunch bad info from shit info, but, that still doesn't fully drown my worries about your attitude, especially, after you ignored /my/ better judgment on the front and fired after I clearly said you couldn't." He looks up to Gars for the first time and adds, "Still, I must concede that that situation was a loss from the beginning, and even if I'd had preferred for Hazzard to take the shot, you did manage to shift the balance to our favor."

"Sir…" Gars says as a frown begins to grow on his features. "Going by this last mission, I am not impressed by /your/ better judgment, sir. Since you failed something as simple as securing an intersection on a ship, you endangered the squad and the mission. And then, in a hostage situation, with a hostile gun on the hostage, you fired your weapon, sir. That, sir, placed the hostage at risk. Any sane evaluation of the hostage-situation would place the death of the hostage on your shoulders, sir. As I recall, I made zero mistakes during the mission in question. I gave proper advice in a tense combat situation, and when you decided to roll hard six with the hostage-takers, I tried to get the hostage out of the equation before the hostiles had a chance to open fire. Sir."

Desusa eyes Gars and then looks back down to his papers, there and awkward smile drawn out but he says nothing more. Another flip of a page, "Corporal, I don’t think I need an overzealous marine telling me what I did right or wrong, but in the interest of my sanity, I'll let that opinion stand for what it is, an opinion." He closes the file and looks back to Gars, "Tell me, do you know the name of the officer you shot?" His hands lacing over the folders in front of him as he awaits for Gars's answer.

Gars frown does not fade. "Hostile or hostage, sir?" he asks.

"I don't think those sons of bitches deserve to be called officers, Gars. I meant the man you shot in the leg who was wearing the proud naval blues," rephrases Desusa.

"No, sir" Gars answers. "I don't know his name, sir."

Desusa nods simply, "His name is Ephraim Zimmerman, a logistics captain of the Persius." Desusa pushes back a bit an opens up his drawer, "He was the husband of the Cheng here in the Genny, Major Rhea Zimmerman," Raul gets a small black box out and locks the drawer back, "You know her?"

"Sir" Gars says. "I was assigned to aid the Cheng and her snipes in weapons handling a few weeks back. That's about it, sir."

"Good," says Raul as he sets the box on the right said of his desk. "I want you to seek her out and give her the details of what transpired in the CIC that day. The man put his Fleet before his life, and I want the Cheng to know everything he did in there by one of the men who was actually there." The major's face is emotionless and his tone serene, waiting to see Gars's reaction.

"Sir" Gars says, the frown remaining where it is. "Isn't that your job, as CO of the operation? I believe it comes with the pins on your collar, sir."

Desusa lofts a brow at that, "Is that a negative on what I am asking you to do, Corporal?" His hands lace back over the table, "I assumed that a courageous man such as Captain Zimmerman, deserved to have his tragic last moments told to his wife by a marine with as much determination as him. Was I wrong?" Raul is really not understanding Gars reply to this simple request.

Gars frown seems to increase, if only ever so slightly. "Sir, shit like that comes with officers rank. And I aint no officer. I have no intent of talking with a woman who just lost her husband in a hostage situation. That, sir, aint part of my job description."

Desusa is really trying to focus on what he is hearing here, "I… Shit, I ain't doing going thru this again. Dismissed." He picks up the box and unlocks his drawer once more.

"Sir" Gars says as he's dismissed and turns to head on out, almost marching as he moves towards the hatch.

Desusa shakes his head and tosses the box into the drawer. Closing it and standing up.

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