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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-05
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959
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1/1
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Visitors

Summary:

Jim stood at rigid and perfect attention before the desk of General Hammond.

Work Text:


Visitors
by Jayed

 

Jim stood at rigid and perfect attention before the desk of General Hammond. His face was completely expressionless. Blair stood just a little to his left and behind him, his half-hidden hand resting lightly on the small of Jim's back.

"Gentlemen? You are aware of DADT?"

Blair spoke up to answer that one. "We're not military."

A deep sigh. "This is a military base."

"Then we've got a problem. We told you that were a couple, that Sentinels and Guides needed close contact. You agreed."

"You agreed to keep it private."

"Yes. We agreed not to flaunt it, but the Bond needs what it needs." He  paused, inconspicuously using his hidden fingers to rub against Jim's back, the thin shirt no barrier to his Guide's gentle and gentling touch, "We weren't in the Mess for God's sake, or even out in some hallway. We were in our quarters with every expectation of privacy. Your men came in without as much as a knock."

"What?" Hammond was clearly startled. He hadn't heard that part of it.

Blair thought about that one for a moment. "So," he finally continued, "I think we can agree that the outraged `innocents' here are Jim and me, not the breakers and enterers. Why were they in our quarters anyway?"

Jim continued to stand silently, waiting for the answer. He posture unforgiving.

Hammond put up a hand, halting Blair's next statement. He hit the intercom. "Send in Sergeants Hayes and Quinn, please." He looked at Jim. "At ease…please."

The two sergeants came through the door, righteous indignation still flashing in their eyes. Only their place on the base had kept them from reacting with more violence when their eyes had been offended by the sight of the two men. If Blair had been going down on Jim, they might…might…have backed out, but the sight of a former officer on his knees before the hippy freak was more than they could accept.

"Sergeant Hayes. Sergeant Quinn. I have a question for you that I should have asked earlier. Where were these two men when you saw what you saw?"

Hayes answered, "In quarters." His tone made it clear that he didn't think that the answer mattered one way or the other.

"I see. Well, perhaps you can tell me this. These two men are in VIP guest quarters, not crew quarters. What were you doing in their quarters? Did you knock before you entered?  Those rooms, as you well know, are not subject to random searches."

Neither man had expected this line of questioning, and they had almost forgotten their original purpose in going there. They had, in fact, been intending to search the little guy's stuff for the illegal drugs they were sure he was carrying. They had planned to do Ellison a favor and free him from having to deal with the little hanger-on.

Now, in light of the stark reminder that their powers to search did not, in any case, include the room they had intended to search, they were at a loss. They were, suddenly, less sure of their position.

Hammond spoke again, deceptively mild, "I asked you men a question. I expect an answer. Were you there for a legitimate purpose? If so, what was it? And, what made you think you could enter without even knocking?"

"Sir," Quinn finally forced out, "we wanted to check the hippy's things for drugs…" That was as far as he got.

"What hippy would that be? You couldn't possibly be referring to Dr. Blair Sandburg, would you? As a civilian, like the many other civilians on this base, he is not subject to military regulations on
hair or dress. You do not have the right to label him or act in such a bigoted manner toward him or other civilians here. Have you been targeting the others here? Have you been searching Dr. Jackson's office?"

"No, Sir!" they two exclaimed together. Hayes continued, "Of course not. We would never search…" He faltered. There was no question in either man's mind at that point. They had really and truly screwed up.

"So, let me summarize. You broke into the private quarters of two invited, visiting civilian VIPs with the intention of carrying out an illegal search for bigoted reasons. You discovered the room's occupants engaged in private activities, activities not proscribed to civilians, with every expectation of having their privacy respected behind the locked door of their personal quarters, and your response was to broadcast their activity to get them thrown off the base, or worse? Am I missing anything here?"

"No, Sir."

"No, Sir, but…"

"Am I missing something?"

"No, Sir, but…"

"Report to your quarters." Do not leave them. Do not talk about this incident with anyone else for any reason. Are we clear?" He paused to accept their responses.

"Yes, Sir."

"Yes, Sir."

"I don't think you really do understand the ramifications of your actions. Let me be even more explicit. These two men were specifically invited here after great debate and with much persuasion because they have skills deemed vital to this base and its operations. Your criminal and inflammatory acts may cause them to change their minds about assisting us. Let's hope they are more forgiving than I think I might be. You consider why you should retain your rank, your pension, and your freedom."

Hammond sighed again as the two sergeants, severely crestfallen, left the room. This was a complete fuck-up. And, worse, he'd completely mishandled it himself. He should have completely interrogated the two sergeants before he called Ellison and Sandburg to his office.  What the Hell could he now say to the silent angry men who still stood before his desk?

 

end