CYTM80

=Chapter 80=
==Can you tell me where can we start over?==
Royal Palce
Thardad City
Tharkad, Lyran Alliance
3067
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Captain Pol Nguyen paused mid-step as he followed the directions given, just to have a look.
The Royal Palace on Tharkad was impressive.  Bigger than downtown Vin Drin Lap, more ornate than the wealthiest levels of Ia Drang, a city built into a canyon in layers like an Arcology.
He started walking again, trusting the map he was given.
"...In Here, Captain."  The Archon spoke from a doorway large enough to feed a box-truck through.
"Sir, Captain Pol Nguyen, reporting as ordered sir."
"Relax Captain."  Peter Steiner-Davion in person was as impressive as Vu Dao suggested in her comms. Fully a head taller than Pol, with the holovid good-looks one might associate with the star of a romantic fantasy series.  "I see you took 'immediately' to heart."
"Sorry sir." Pol said, aware of the caked dust and sweat on his clothes and face.
"Never be sorry for the dirt of honest work." Peter told him, "If a few of my officers that don't understand that did, this whole mess would never have happened...How bad is it really, Captain?"
"Pretty bad, Sir." Pol confessed, "We've managed to recover a few thousand civilians from the wreckage. A few thousand bodies, but shit is ****** up, sir.  I've sent requisition requests for additional medical supplies and food, blankets, tents.  It's going to be worse once the weather gets colder."
"I've seen the requisitions." Peter told him, "You realize your requests are the clearest, most concise and to the point ones I've seen from units involved in the recovery efforts?"
"No sir." Pol confessed, "I haven't really been the one writing them, sir.  My XO takes my reports and does the paperwork-I've been getting my hands dirty for the last week."
"Your XO?"
"She's on the ship, Sir." Pol stated, "My background as a Marine and a surface native. I meant I was better employed helping the men get things in motion and organized dirtside, Lt. Commander Charlotte Deen560 is my executive officer, she's with the ship, sir."
"Why?  Usual practice is the other way around?" Peter asked.
"She's got Planetophobia, sir. If I sent her down to supervise the Marines she'd be curled up in a locked room taking reports through a slot and that's if she doesn't go full catatonic.  She's a Rokkajakkah, not a Dirtyfeet, and some of them have real issues with being 'at the bottom of the well'."  Then he smiled, "besides, she's a better hand at ship handling than I am.  I got the rank half by luck."
Peter chuckled.  "I see, and she's the one who puts your requisitions together in detail."
"Yes sir.  I review 'em, but she's the one who does the writing, I just sign the forms and pass 'em up the chain, sir."
"A lot of people are talking about medals.  Handing them out, getting them." Peter told him, "I want to do things a little differently."
"Sir?"
"Nobody ordered your marines to land and begin aiding recovery." Peter told him.  "I checked with Adam and Archer, neither of them requested it."
"No sir." Pol said.
''
"You, and Captain Sithers came ashore immediately-the fighting wasn't even over and started working search and rescue." Peter continued, "I have battleroms."
"We did do some fighting, sir." said Pol
"I know, I remember." Peter told him, "but you also put your men straight to work getting civilians out of danger, putting out fires, and setting up hospitals and refugee stations."
"Yes sir."
"Do you know how admirable that is, Nguyen?"  Peter carefully pronounced it 'wen'.
"No sir?  I mean, we could've run out there to be burned up assaulting Asgard, but-"
"But others had that in hand, yeah." Peter told him.  "We don't have a medal for that."
"Sir?"
"We, as in the Lyran Commonwealth, don't have a medal for stepping up to the bat and just doing the right thing." Peter told him, "We should, we have them for gallantry, courage under fire, even for neat penmanship."
Pol snorted.  "A case of beer per man would probably be more appreciated, and a  few days Liberty somewhere warm and clothing optional...and maybe a pay raise."
"I can do the pay-raise." Peter told him, "It comes with the word 'promotion' in it, but I can't pin a few day's liberty in a warm, clothing-optional place with good drinks and distractions on a uniform for the press.  You're getting a Unit Commendation for the First MEU, for gallantry and courage, with V device and clusters.  Individually there will be additional awards...and as soon as it's available, a case of good liquor for each fireteam or platoon, a voucher for two weeks Liberty, and I'll talk to the Kowloonese about sticking the promotions and the pay raises on."
"Thank you, Sir...about the requisitions?"
"Approved. I'm also taking steps to take some of the load off your people.  We've got engineering teams and a brigade of Service Corps coming in to take over recovery and reconstruction...but you, especially, are going to have to stick around a bit."
"Sir?"
"You're going to be talking to the press, Captain.  You saved a bunch of school children in the poorest part of the city at your own risk, personally made sure they were reunited with their families.  That got the attention of the press, and that means you're going to be getting pinned with bits of tin to wear on your dress uniform, and it also means you have to talk to reporters and give interviews."
"Yes sir...can I get out of it?" ask Pol
"No." Peter said.
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