From: "Nora Rivkis" 
Date: Sun, 13 Apr 1997 18:12:10 -0400
Subject: Re: USS CHESAPEAKE: Marines/Departure

> SD 90413.2235
> 
> MD 5.0900
> Scene: Marine Deck
> 
> Brennan stepped out on to Deck 14, and a split second later, a 
> Marine running down the corridor collided with him.  As Brennan 
> recovered, the Marine started muttering, rubbing his shoulder.
> 
> "What the..."
> 
> Then he saw who it was, and snapped straight up.
> 
> "Sorry, sir."
> 
> "No problem, Corporal," he nodded.  "Carry on."
> 
> "Yessir!"
> 
> The Marine continued his jog down the corridor.  Brennan observed 
> the general flow of people, and proceeded to follow the crowd.
> 
> He eventually followed them into a large assembly area, where the 
> CHESAPEAKE's three platoons that made up her rump company were 
> quickly gathering.  Brennan stood off to the side, watching the 
> activity.
> 
> He spotted 1LT David Shachor about the same time he spotted him.  
> The MCO squinted, then nodded, acknowledging his presence.  The 
> Marine whispered something to his three companions... most likely 
> the platoon commanders.  The three started to get the semi-chaos 
> into something resembling order, shouting admonitions.
> 
> The Marines quickly left their banter and ran into formation.  
> Their speed was quite astonishing.  So, he thought, this is what 
> Marine training is.  The platoon commanders took their place with 
> their units.
> 
> Suddenly, a voice rang out.
> 
> "COMPANY, ATTEN-TION!"
> 
> David Shachor's voice brought everything, including their 
> thoughts, to attention.  Nothing, no one, moved.
> 
> It was certainly an impressive sight.
> 
> Brennan approached Shachor, stood at attention behind him.  The 
> MCO executed a sharp about-face.
> 
> "Alfa Company formed for inspection, sir!"
David hated this kind of thing. At home, he would have
simply lifted his head, thrown a grin to the commanding
officer he'd known since adolescence, and said, "Ready,
sir." If he were being formal. If he weren't, it would've been
"So, what'd'you think?"
This wasn't home. This was Starfleet, and the more he saw
of it in practice, the less he liked it. With a few exceptions.
Maybe, just maybe, this man would be one of them. He'd
seemed decent enough on their one brief prevoius meeting.
> "Thank you, Lieutenant."  He gestured for Shachor to lead the 
> inspection.
> 
> The MCO nodded, and proceeded to lead him down the columns of 
> marines.
> 
> They certainly looked ready.  They were an experienced company, 
> with excellent platoon commanders, returning to starship duty 
> after close to five months on shore.  Their uniforms were quite in 
> order, their shoulders squared, their eyes straight ahead, and the 
> expression on each soldier said only one thing: "I am a Marine."
> 
> But he had read the reports; looks were deceiving.
> 
> Brennan whispered minor comments to Shachor as they walked, column 
> after column.  Finally, as they came to the end, the two officers 
> walked back to the front of the formation.  As Brennan stood 
> aside, Shachor came to attention in front of them.
> 
> "Alfa Company, you have your training orders.  Platoon Leaders, 
> the troops are yours."
In Hebrew, he added privately (he thought), "Galia, for G-d's sake
scare them if you have to; just get them *moving*." The young
woman who led the second, and most traumatized, platoon, nodded
briefly. She understood.
 
> "Aye, sir!" the three voices responded, almost as one.  The three 
> Second Lieutenants turned to their charges, and soon, the three 
> platoons were jogging off in different directions.  Shachor turned 
> around.
> 
> "My office, sir?"
> 
> "Please," nodded Brennan.
> 
> They quietly proceeded to the MCO's office.  Shachor walked around 
> his desk and sat down, and Brennan took the chair in front of him.  
> Sensing that the man across from him had no need for small talk, 
> the Commander started without preamble.
> 
> "I've read your report, Lieutenant."  He looked carefully at 
> Shachor.  "What's your assessment?"
> 
> "The platoons are not in shape," he replied, bluntly.  "The morale 
> of the unit is low.  Extremely low."
> 
> "After their last posting, I don't blame them," the XO 
> acknowledged.
Well. That was the sanest response he'd had to the situation
yet; other people had tended to vary between noncomprehension
and pity. David's respect for the XO went up a notch.
 
> "You've read the reports of their former second platoon leader."  
> It was more statement than question.
> 
> "Yes."  Brennan nodded, his eyes not moving from Shachor.  "You 
> have your work cut out for you."
> 
> "Yes, sir."  He stopped speaking, and returned his gaze.
> 
> "And their combat readiness?"
 
Shachor exhaled sharply. This was the tough one. *They
don't have any* he wanted to say. That was too blunt for
this service. Better rephrase it in Starfleet-ese.
> "They lack initiative and aggressiveness.  They need constant 
> guidance, prompting, direct orders.  Some are too inflexible, and 
> fight by-the-book, unable to adapt to sudden non-textbook 
> situations.
> 
> "But they also exercise excellent team work.  They trust each 
> other, and trust their platoon leaders.  They refuse to abandon 
> their fellow troops, and they will stand by each other whatever 
> happens."
> 
> "You have the beginnings of an excellent company, Lieutenant."
> 
> "I already *have* an excellent company, sir."  Shachor's voice was 
> carefully controlled.  "I just need them to remember that."
*That which does not kill you makes you stronger.* David had
always had his doubts about that. But he had to assume it, or
he had nowhere to take these people.
 
> "Of course," Brennan nodded, wincing inwardly for his faux pas.  
> "Mission briefing is at 1500 hours, Observation Lounge.  The 
> mission, as currently outlined, will not require a heavy military 
> presence."
> 
> "Currently outlined?"  Shachor's tone took on an edge.
> 
> "It's mainly a diplomatic mission.  But," he said, raising his 
> eyebrows, "*anything* can happen at the negotiation table."
> 
> "Yes," he nodded, "it can."  His reply spoke of personal 
> experience, or at least of serious study.  Brennan thought back... 
> of course.  Shachor's Academy MOC had included diplomacy.
> 
> "But," said the Commander, "as I said, the mission profile 
> certainly does not indicate the need for military maneuvers.  It 
> is unlikely that your troops will face combat on this mission... 
> and if they do, it will not be major."
> 
> "Yes, sir."
*It had better not be.* Second couldn't hold its own in a real fight.
And the others would be at a major disadvantage trying to cover 
for them. He knew better than to expect them to do otherwise.
 
> NRPG:
> Naomi: I hope I did all right with Shachor. :) Any reactions on 
> his visit?
Did just fine with him. You do a better Shachor than anyone but
me, so far. ;-) Only things I corrected a little was the way David
would have given orders to his troops to go back to their exercise,
and a trivial backstory mistake you made on the Andersen mess --
he was the platoon leader for Second, not the group's former MCO
as a company. 
 
Looks like you'll be needed back down there Real Soon Now.
Respectfully Submitted,
Naomi Rivkis
1LT David Shachor
MCO, USS Chesapeake

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