Post by Threid on Jun 8, 2010 21:30:06 GMT -5
Jaburo was just around the corner, but Karol, Kyle and Kelly decided that it was now or never with Operation Protocol Overload, or "the oppo" for short. They had agreed to compile an exhausting list of protocols, old and obscure and new and made-up, and present them to Lt. Gerard, bound together in a 3-inch binder. They had all made contributions, and Kyle had finished reviewing and revising the extensive list by pulling consecutive all-nighters. He had lengthened the list considerably by using obfuscating, all-too-proper language, sprinkling in several references to other protocols in the list.
At the next crew meeting, each of them appeared with a binder in hand; Kyle carried two, and dropped the second in front of Lt. Gerard after saluting smartly. "High command has taken notice of our unit; unfortunately, the news is not favorable. They have observed serious and multifarious breaches of protocol, and have provided us with this easily-referenced list of protocols that we ought to be observing. Lt. Ferdinand passed the books to me yesterday, and tasked me with distributing them to the rest of our unit; he seems to think I'm at the root of our misbehavior."
Here, Kyle stopped and gave Lt. Gerard his most contrite look, before continuing, "We've already given the list a thorough read-through, and figured that since you are already well-versed in protocol, that we would wait until our first crew meeting to give it to you. Lt. Ferdinand was confident that you would not require one, but I thought it would be handy, in case you needed to reference a specific section to reprimand one of us."
"I expected to one day get the attention of high command, but not like this," Lt. Gerard said, harrumphing for emphasis. "We will improve, and we will catch the attention of high command again, but in a better way."
Kyle Slater raised his hand, then spoke, "I'm sorry, sir, but section 16, subsection 12, article 20 forbids those in the service of the Earth Federation Ground Forces to make any noises that are not words, like your grunt. I am sure you did not mean to do it on purpose."
"No. Of course not." Lt. Gerard cleared his throat, then flushed a deep red color, realizing what he had done. "Well then, we will proceed with this meeting."
Karol interrupted again, trying to hide the gleam in his eye. "Protocol forbids naming a crew briefing as a meeting. I cannot recall the specific section, but I know it is in there. Perhaps you could help me in finding it, Lt. Gerard? I want to make sure that we are doing things right."
"Yes, well..." Lt. Gerard half-cleared his throat, blushed, then continued, "We have several important items on the agenda today, and I don't want to let pro..." He fumbled for the right words to frame his thoughts without betraying his loyalty to protocol, but failed.
"Perhaps we should take a recess from our briefing, so that we can all study the protocol a bit more?" Kelly suggested, barely stifling a laugh as she spoke, straight-faced and calm. "I know that I could use some time to better familiarize myself with how I ought to act, especially with an important operation coming up."
The others nodded their assent, and Gerard relented. "Report back for your briefing at 1900 hours, sharp! You can go!"
"I believe protocol dictates that a unit leader must say 'dismissed' to adjourn a briefing," Kyle put in. "But we understand what you meant."
"Of course. Dismissed!"
Lt. Gerard spent the next two hours sweating over the large manual. Most of the rules, he knew, but some of them, he was quite unfamiliar with. For example, he'd never heard that briefings must be composed of thee distinct parts, called "acts" and he'd certainly never read anywhere about the exhaustive rules governing the vocabulary that was and wasn't allowed during briefings, battle, and daily life. He was no sailor when it came to words, but even words like "ship," "mobile suit" and "quarters" were disallowed, in favor of the more descriptive terms "combat-involved mobile center of operations" "personal anthropomorphic combat system" and "assigned domicile," respectively. It was truly dizzying, the number of rules!
The meeting did not proceed smoothly. He was fairly certain that his subordinates meant well with their frequent interruptions as to the correct usage of this or that bit of protocol, but it was becoming - and he hated to admit it - a damned nuisance. He counted himself lucky if he could make it through one paragraph of his planned briefing without an interruption and a looking up of the relevant bit of protocol in the large 3-inch binder.
When everything was said and done, four hours had passed, for what he intended to be a 1-hour briefing. He still had to do some maintenance on his Guncannon, and dreaded it - especially since protocol stated that all EFGF officers ought to be in bed asleep before 0000 hours. When he questioned Karol about his mobile suit's maintenance, Karol only said that it was against protocol to inquire as to the condition of another's mobile suit or ship, unless someone had a good reason to. The response puzzled Gerard - usually, Karol was up-front about his mobile suit maintenance - but he supposed that he would rather have a team that followed protocol.
A couple days later, Lt. Gerard was nearly at his wits' end. He did not understand how his subordinates had imbibed the list of protocols from the binder faster than he had. Perhaps he was growing old? They weren't without mistakes, of course, but it seemed that whenever they weren't correcting him, he was having to notify them of a correction. Their briefings were nightmares, often running for 4, or even 5 hours. He had suggested that they hold their briefings in the cafeteria, but that had, of course, been against protocol. Instead, he tried to plan the briefings right after meals. There was a stack of papers on his desk at least a foot high; apparently, even the most minor actions of an MS Team required paperwork, and his responses to those actions also required paperwork. He doubted Lt. Ferdinand would have time to review his reviews of his unit's reviews of their exercises.
Even during their routine training exercises, protocol hindered them. The movements required by mobile suit, or "personal anthropomorphic combat system," protocol, covered in section 24 of the protocol book, were very precise. Lt. Gerard didn't say it out loud, but he thought most of them were terrible suggestions for real-life combat. Instead, he cautioned his team to think for themselves on the battlefield, and try to play things by ear - it wasn't exactly what he would like to tell them, but he was afraid that if he got any more specific, he'd be caught breaching protocol.
The contrast with Lt. Reaves' team was stark, indeed. Gerard noted no fewer than 200 separate violations of protocol, as stated in the book, in the span of a couple days, and he wasn't even paying close attention. But Reaves' team seemed to be thriving. Their maintenance and briefings were always done early, their training maneuvers were always handled smoothly and impressively, and they always seemed to have extra time on their hands. And, despite their laxness in protocol, they were all excellent pilots, almost certainly better than he could ever hope to be. Even Thorvald, who probably couldn't even spell, much less pronounce "protocol" correctly, was an excellent pilot.
Before, protocol had always been a comfortable place where he could retreat from the chaos of command, a refuge from which he could speak firmly, with authority. It hadn't often gotten in the way of productivity. But these rules which he had only recently learned seemed to have no purpose other than to squelch creative thinking and efficient working. High command had marked his unit out as offenders, but the track record of The Beam Team was excellent, filled with more than the average number of notable pilots. And if they had breached protocol by calling briefings "meetings," it hadn't made an impact on the quality of their service.
Lt. Gerard thought long and hard that night about the role of protocol in the military. And by the time he went to sleep, he had come up with what he considered an acceptable treatment of protocol: rather than following the letter of every law all the time, he would always follow the spirit of the laws, following them to the letter only in the presence of superior officers, as to not offend anyone. He looked sadly at the large 3-inch binder on his desk. He must have read through the thing at least 3 times already, and he had no desire to do so again. He had memorized all the important rules, and the minutiae that had escaped him were almost certainly not worth remembering.
Perhaps he'd make a gift of it to Lt. Reaves. If any MS Team on Orange Base needed a review of protocol, it was his. A man who fished off the side of a ship during battle? A couple that was all but married serving in the same unit? A leader who disregarded protocol at every step? It was a wonder that they hadn't fallen under review.
In any case, he needed to stem the flow of protocol before it got out of control; he couldn't let it get in the way of his running an excellent MS Team. And so, he planned his next meeting. He would explain that they would be following the spirit, rather than the letter of protocol, that they should not allow themselves to be bogged down with excessive rules and regulations, which hurt, rather than helped their cause. Over time, they would learn which rules required stricter following and when, and which could be sacrificed in the name of convenience - nay! - excellence. And, he had decided, they would no longer be known or referred to as KCT MS-02 / MST-077; they were now The Beam Team, in name and in truth.
At the next crew meeting, each of them appeared with a binder in hand; Kyle carried two, and dropped the second in front of Lt. Gerard after saluting smartly. "High command has taken notice of our unit; unfortunately, the news is not favorable. They have observed serious and multifarious breaches of protocol, and have provided us with this easily-referenced list of protocols that we ought to be observing. Lt. Ferdinand passed the books to me yesterday, and tasked me with distributing them to the rest of our unit; he seems to think I'm at the root of our misbehavior."
Here, Kyle stopped and gave Lt. Gerard his most contrite look, before continuing, "We've already given the list a thorough read-through, and figured that since you are already well-versed in protocol, that we would wait until our first crew meeting to give it to you. Lt. Ferdinand was confident that you would not require one, but I thought it would be handy, in case you needed to reference a specific section to reprimand one of us."
"I expected to one day get the attention of high command, but not like this," Lt. Gerard said, harrumphing for emphasis. "We will improve, and we will catch the attention of high command again, but in a better way."
Kyle Slater raised his hand, then spoke, "I'm sorry, sir, but section 16, subsection 12, article 20 forbids those in the service of the Earth Federation Ground Forces to make any noises that are not words, like your grunt. I am sure you did not mean to do it on purpose."
"No. Of course not." Lt. Gerard cleared his throat, then flushed a deep red color, realizing what he had done. "Well then, we will proceed with this meeting."
Karol interrupted again, trying to hide the gleam in his eye. "Protocol forbids naming a crew briefing as a meeting. I cannot recall the specific section, but I know it is in there. Perhaps you could help me in finding it, Lt. Gerard? I want to make sure that we are doing things right."
"Yes, well..." Lt. Gerard half-cleared his throat, blushed, then continued, "We have several important items on the agenda today, and I don't want to let pro..." He fumbled for the right words to frame his thoughts without betraying his loyalty to protocol, but failed.
"Perhaps we should take a recess from our briefing, so that we can all study the protocol a bit more?" Kelly suggested, barely stifling a laugh as she spoke, straight-faced and calm. "I know that I could use some time to better familiarize myself with how I ought to act, especially with an important operation coming up."
The others nodded their assent, and Gerard relented. "Report back for your briefing at 1900 hours, sharp! You can go!"
"I believe protocol dictates that a unit leader must say 'dismissed' to adjourn a briefing," Kyle put in. "But we understand what you meant."
"Of course. Dismissed!"
~
Lt. Gerard spent the next two hours sweating over the large manual. Most of the rules, he knew, but some of them, he was quite unfamiliar with. For example, he'd never heard that briefings must be composed of thee distinct parts, called "acts" and he'd certainly never read anywhere about the exhaustive rules governing the vocabulary that was and wasn't allowed during briefings, battle, and daily life. He was no sailor when it came to words, but even words like "ship," "mobile suit" and "quarters" were disallowed, in favor of the more descriptive terms "combat-involved mobile center of operations" "personal anthropomorphic combat system" and "assigned domicile," respectively. It was truly dizzying, the number of rules!
The meeting did not proceed smoothly. He was fairly certain that his subordinates meant well with their frequent interruptions as to the correct usage of this or that bit of protocol, but it was becoming - and he hated to admit it - a damned nuisance. He counted himself lucky if he could make it through one paragraph of his planned briefing without an interruption and a looking up of the relevant bit of protocol in the large 3-inch binder.
When everything was said and done, four hours had passed, for what he intended to be a 1-hour briefing. He still had to do some maintenance on his Guncannon, and dreaded it - especially since protocol stated that all EFGF officers ought to be in bed asleep before 0000 hours. When he questioned Karol about his mobile suit's maintenance, Karol only said that it was against protocol to inquire as to the condition of another's mobile suit or ship, unless someone had a good reason to. The response puzzled Gerard - usually, Karol was up-front about his mobile suit maintenance - but he supposed that he would rather have a team that followed protocol.
~
A couple days later, Lt. Gerard was nearly at his wits' end. He did not understand how his subordinates had imbibed the list of protocols from the binder faster than he had. Perhaps he was growing old? They weren't without mistakes, of course, but it seemed that whenever they weren't correcting him, he was having to notify them of a correction. Their briefings were nightmares, often running for 4, or even 5 hours. He had suggested that they hold their briefings in the cafeteria, but that had, of course, been against protocol. Instead, he tried to plan the briefings right after meals. There was a stack of papers on his desk at least a foot high; apparently, even the most minor actions of an MS Team required paperwork, and his responses to those actions also required paperwork. He doubted Lt. Ferdinand would have time to review his reviews of his unit's reviews of their exercises.
Even during their routine training exercises, protocol hindered them. The movements required by mobile suit, or "personal anthropomorphic combat system," protocol, covered in section 24 of the protocol book, were very precise. Lt. Gerard didn't say it out loud, but he thought most of them were terrible suggestions for real-life combat. Instead, he cautioned his team to think for themselves on the battlefield, and try to play things by ear - it wasn't exactly what he would like to tell them, but he was afraid that if he got any more specific, he'd be caught breaching protocol.
The contrast with Lt. Reaves' team was stark, indeed. Gerard noted no fewer than 200 separate violations of protocol, as stated in the book, in the span of a couple days, and he wasn't even paying close attention. But Reaves' team seemed to be thriving. Their maintenance and briefings were always done early, their training maneuvers were always handled smoothly and impressively, and they always seemed to have extra time on their hands. And, despite their laxness in protocol, they were all excellent pilots, almost certainly better than he could ever hope to be. Even Thorvald, who probably couldn't even spell, much less pronounce "protocol" correctly, was an excellent pilot.
Before, protocol had always been a comfortable place where he could retreat from the chaos of command, a refuge from which he could speak firmly, with authority. It hadn't often gotten in the way of productivity. But these rules which he had only recently learned seemed to have no purpose other than to squelch creative thinking and efficient working. High command had marked his unit out as offenders, but the track record of The Beam Team was excellent, filled with more than the average number of notable pilots. And if they had breached protocol by calling briefings "meetings," it hadn't made an impact on the quality of their service.
Lt. Gerard thought long and hard that night about the role of protocol in the military. And by the time he went to sleep, he had come up with what he considered an acceptable treatment of protocol: rather than following the letter of every law all the time, he would always follow the spirit of the laws, following them to the letter only in the presence of superior officers, as to not offend anyone. He looked sadly at the large 3-inch binder on his desk. He must have read through the thing at least 3 times already, and he had no desire to do so again. He had memorized all the important rules, and the minutiae that had escaped him were almost certainly not worth remembering.
Perhaps he'd make a gift of it to Lt. Reaves. If any MS Team on Orange Base needed a review of protocol, it was his. A man who fished off the side of a ship during battle? A couple that was all but married serving in the same unit? A leader who disregarded protocol at every step? It was a wonder that they hadn't fallen under review.
In any case, he needed to stem the flow of protocol before it got out of control; he couldn't let it get in the way of his running an excellent MS Team. And so, he planned his next meeting. He would explain that they would be following the spirit, rather than the letter of protocol, that they should not allow themselves to be bogged down with excessive rules and regulations, which hurt, rather than helped their cause. Over time, they would learn which rules required stricter following and when, and which could be sacrificed in the name of convenience - nay! - excellence. And, he had decided, they would no longer be known or referred to as KCT MS-02 / MST-077; they were now The Beam Team, in name and in truth.