Medic!
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 4
The conference room at Naval Special Warfare Command was deliberately austere—gray walls, fluorescent lighting, a long table with metal chairs. Maria sat on one side. Across from her sat two NCIS agents and Commander Patricia Holloway from the Judge Advocate General’s office.
Forty-eight hours had passed since the shooting. Miles Davis was out of surgery and stable. The three terrorists were dead. Base security had been reviewed and reinforced. And now came the paperwork.
Special Agent Marcus Webb, mid-forties with the weathered look of someone who’d spent years investigating military incidents, had his laptop open and a digital recorder running on the table. “Hospital Corpsman Third Class Perez, this is a formal interview regarding the shooting incident at Building 347 on November 14th. You are not under suspicion of any wrongdoing. This is a standard investigation for any use of deadly force on a military installation. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“For the record, you have the right to have legal counsel present during this interview.”
“I understand, sir. I don’t require counsel.”
Webb nodded. “Walk me through the incident from the moment you entered Building 347.”
Maria had already given this account twice—once to Base Security immediately after the shooting, once to Morrison during the tactical debrief. Her story hadn’t changed because it was the truth, and the truth didn’t require rehearsal.
“Team Five entered through the east entrance. We moved to the main lobby where we had visual on Petty Officer Miles Davis, wounded, approximately forty feet from our position. I identified his injury as likely femoral arterial hemorrhage based on the blood pool volume and expansion rate.”
“You made that assessment from forty feet away?”
“Yes, sir. Blood loss patterns are distinctive. Arterial bleeding has specific characteristics—spray pattern, volume, color.”
Webb made a note. “Continue.”
“Lieutenant Commander Morrison authorized a rapid extraction. I moved to the casualty with Petty Officer Henderson providing security. I stabilized Petty Officer Davis behind the information desk and began treatment—junctional tourniquet applied, IV access established, morphine administered.”
“And the shooting?”
“Petty Officer Henderson was providing security while I worked. He needed to reload. During his reload, a hostile emerged from a second-floor doorway with a rifle oriented toward our position. Petty Officer Henderson’s weapon was offline due to the reload. I assessed the threat and engaged.”
“With your sidearm?”
“Yes, sir. M9 Beretta.”
“How many rounds?”
“Two rounds, center-mass.”
Webb looked up from his laptop. “Two rounds. Both fatal hits. From how far?”
“Approximately thirty feet, elevated angle.”
“While you were kneeling beside a casualty, hands occupied with medical equipment?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s exceptional marksmanship, Petty Officer.”
Maria said nothing.
Special Agent Rachel Kim, Webb’s partner, spoke for the first time. “Your qualification scores show Distinguished Expert rating. That’s top two percent of all Navy personnel. Where did you receive your marksmanship training?”
“My father taught me to shoot, ma’am. I received formal training through Fleet Marine Force qualification courses.”
“Your father is Gunnery Sergeant Mateo Perez, Marine Scout Sniper instructor. Correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Kim exchanged a glance with Webb. “Your father is one of the most renowned marksmanship instructors in the Marine Corps. He holds the second-longest confirmed kill shot in Marine Corps history. Is that correct?”
“I believe so, ma’am.”
“Did he train you specifically in combat shooting?”
Maria chose her words carefully. “He taught me to shoot safely and accurately. The Marine Corps taught me to shoot in combat conditions.”
Commander Holloway, who’d been silent until now, leaned forward. “Petty Officer Perez, let me be direct. Three separate witnesses—Lieutenant Commander Morrison, Petty Officer Simmons, and Petty Officer Henderson—have provided statements confirming that your engagement of the hostile saved Petty Officer Henderson’s life and likely your own. The shooter was armed with a rifle, had clear line of sight, and would have engaged both of you within seconds. Your use of force was absolutely justified under Rules of Engagement for defense of self and others. This investigation is procedural, not punitive. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Holloway’s expression softened slightly. “That said, you killed a man. On American soil. In defense of your position, yes, but you still took a life. How are you processing that?”
Maria had been expecting this question. She’d been asking it herself for forty-eight hours.
“I’m ... processing it, ma’am. I’m not glad he’s dead. But I’m glad Petty Officer Henderson is alive. I’m glad Petty Officer Davis is alive. If I hadn’t taken that shot, they might not be.”
“Any hesitation about returning to duty?”
“No, ma’am. I signed up to save lives. Sometimes that requires ... other actions.”
Holloway studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. Agent Webb, do you have additional questions?”
Webb closed his laptop. “No, ma’am. The physical evidence, witness statements, and video footage from building security cameras all corroborate Petty Officer Perez’s account. The shooting was legally justified under military Rules of Engagement. I’ll submit my report recommending no further action.”
“Thank you, Agent Webb.” Holloway turned to Maria. “Petty Officer Perez, you’re cleared to return to full duty. This investigation is closed.”
Maria stood. “Thank you, ma’am.”
As she reached the door, Holloway spoke again. “Perez. Off the record—that was outstanding work. You saved two lives under extraordinary pressure. The Navy is fortunate to have you.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Maria found Morrison in his office, reviewing deployment schedules. He looked up when she knocked.
“Come in, Perez. Close the door.”
She entered and stood at attention.
Morrison gestured to a chair. “Sit. This isn’t formal.” He waited until she sat, then slid a document across the desk. “Read that.”
It was a recommendation for the Navy and Marine Corps Commendation Medal with Combat “V” device. Maria skimmed the citation:
For heroic achievement while serving as Combat Medic with SEAL Team Five during response to hostile action at Naval Amphibious Base Coronado on 14 November 2024. Petty Officer Perez displayed exceptional courage under fire while providing life-saving medical treatment to a critically wounded service member. Despite being under direct hostile fire, Petty Officer Perez conducted emergency medical procedures with remarkable skill and composure. When faced with an immediate threat to herself and fellow service members, she engaged and neutralized a hostile combatant, then immediately returned to providing medical care without hesitation. Her actions directly resulted in saving the life of Petty Officer First Class Miles Davis and protecting other team members from harm. Petty Officer Perez’s courage, technical proficiency, and dedication to her fellow service members reflect great credit upon herself and are in keeping with the highest traditions of the United States Naval Service.
Maria set the document down. “Sir, I was just doing my job.”
“Your job doesn’t include making a thirty-foot pistol shot while kneeling beside a casualty. That’s exceptional performance, Perez. The medal is deserved.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Morrison leaned back in his chair. “I’m also officially assigning you as primary corpsman for Team Five. Julian will remain as senior corpsman for administrative purposes, but you’re the operator. You deploy with us. You train with us. You’re part of the team. Effective immediately.”
This was what she’d been working toward for three months. What she’d proven herself for. But hearing it made official still hit differently.
“Thank you, sir. I won’t let the team down.”
“I know you won’t. You’ve already proven that.” He paused. “I also know you’ve been downplaying your shooting background. I understand why—you wanted to be judged as a medic, not as Mateo Perez’s daughter. That’s admirable. But Perez, here’s the thing: you don’t have to choose. You can be both.”
“Sir?”
“You’re an exceptional medic. Best I’ve seen at your experience level. But you’re also an exceptional shooter. Those skills aren’t mutually exclusive. They’re complementary. What you did in that lobby—transitioning from medical care to threat engagement and back to medical care in under two seconds—that’s integration of skill sets most operators never achieve. You didn’t stop being a medic to become a shooter. You were both, simultaneously, as the situation required.”