What a fucking dump. Don’t mistake me, the new officer’s quarters and mecha facilities look completely squared away and sharp, but we’re still in-country and still the NEG’s awkward “stepchildren.” I don’t think they know what to do with us, but definitely don’t want to put us where
press corps respectable folk can see us. Back of the bus, rear entrance, not in polite conversation all the way for us. I suspect they’d dissolve the unit in a picosecond and scatter us to the four winds with a big, smug smile if BuPers thought they could get away with it. I don’t think they can. I suspect that as soon as that particular fantasy reaches its conclusion, the results leave them sobbing bitterly in a corner. With the unit intact, we’re all concentrated in one area, driving one CoC to an early grave. Dissolve the squadron, we disperse to work our personal voodoo over a wider swath of the NEG and a vastly larger percentage of strategic command.
There may even be elements of the old human proverb; “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” at play. I’ve read the personnel jackets of the squadron, or perhaps more accurately, what parts that’ve been made available. Two things tend to stand out. One, a high degree of skill. Two, an extraordinary ability to evoke chaos. It has to give the rear echelon bean-counters a major case of chapped ass that we actually get results. I haven’t called up a tally board, but I’m fairly certain we’ve been inflicting damage on the enemy beyond our weight class. Probably part of why they decided to hide us way out here on the edge of the base in salvaged pre-fab housing and informed me we were in stand down pending Refit & Reorg. Straight-up bitchiness. Penny-ante bullshit. If they can’t obliterate us with a stroke of a stylus, they can beach us with our thumbs up our asses and a rising tide of paperwork.
I’m not going to lie, I resent the living fuck out of the situation.
Of course, I think those petty bastards have maneuvered themselves into permanent migraines. Baby-sitter and Hopscotch are now “officially” on temporary loan to the Stepchildren. (Cut-throat is missing more pieces and appears to be on limited duty status for the next few weeks at a minimum. Viking will probably be in a similar state once they release him from medical.) So of the three instigators, two will probably be too beat up and tired to get into too much trouble. I’m confident 2LT Jeun, however, is more than adequate to this challenge. They wanted us bored, they can reap that harvest.
A few days ago, I was a bit apprehensive about how I was going to keep her, and by extension Baby-sitter, from running riot. I’m not stressing anymore. Even trying to access their personnel abstracts requires stupidly high security clearance. All their personal gear has been “scrubbed” to the limits of uniform regs. It doesn’t take a genius to see the two of them are one of Eepie’s black-on-black projects, which means they don’t actually fall under my command. Pretty sure they’re outside the command structure of the whole base. I’m happy to play into the convenient fiction and even do my part to keep Hopscotch from getting overly fidgety, but until I’m read in on the program, I have no skin in the game. Chapel might implode though. She keeps to herself, but given her resistance to becoming my admin gremlin, I don’t think she’s overly thrilled to be officially attached. Moot at this point since Akany’s been cut loose to limited duty and can resume the administrative duties as XO.
Of course that decision is not without its own ration of shit. Some of the brass continue to feel that her drawing her sidearm on 2LT Johanson should be a black mark on her record and reference my reports immediately following that incident relieving her of personal arms as further evidence of her lack of fitness, despite being only a temporary prohibition. They can climb off their fucking high horses and suck ‘em. Viking hasn’t displayed any apprehension in her presence. When we were neck-deep in the kim-chee, Cut-throat was most viable option. She didn’t fuck up under fire. She’s got the time in grade for the slot. Far as I’m concerned, the hat is her’s until she seriously fucks up or gets fucked up. The psychothaumatists checked her out in the field. They didn’t down-check her. I don’t know what pin dick said she’s not authorized to carry arms, but I’m not enforcing it.
Every time my people have been restricted from guns in garrison conditions, it has resulted in serious casualties. In fact, as long as we are in stand down, uniform of the day shall continue to include sidearm and rifle in Condition 3.
I’m not going to let my people get stale. We’ve got lots of time for PT and a home that’ll take all the TLC our field days can give it. I almost feel sorry for Washout, pretty sure he hasn’t worked this hard since boot. Definitely feels more like “us” since I had little miss “May Cawb” painted on the building. The indigenous crew did a good job finishing and “cleaning up” Hopscotch’s efforts. You’d never know there’d ever been flowers. At least there. The project I gave her to set up a small plot to “pretty up” the parade grounds seems to be coming together. I hope she won’t mope too much when she finds out lollypops aren’t seeds. Tomorrow, after Baby-sitter gets back from his 48-hr liberty, I’ll give Hopscotch an extra special game. I need to find that nice special forces pilot who dropped off the equipment and gave Akany such a heart-felt pep talk so I can thank him properly, but he’s hiding and I’d heard she was really good at seeking.
Chapel needs something to keep her motivated. I’ll task her with setting up a training plan, both in classroom and in the cockpit to get all of us used to fighting and moving together. As soon as Cut-throat and Viking are cleared for full duty, we’ll go full-tempo.