The Black Guardians: Book 4 in the Black Guard series, page 4
He decided the navy would need a new group dedicated to producing and implementing what if solutions. A Jax Special Operations Command completely independent of the navy chain of command, yet integrated with the war objectives. Similar to the commandos who were there to support the cruiser, but not in the captain's chain of command, or the First Talon Team – FIST – who were part of the commandos yet specialized in boarding enemy ships.
Smiling, Noam decided it was time to return to work.
Back to Duty
This time when Geller and Lerman entered their conference room, Noam was in a uniform of sorts. Instead of a formal navy and white or dark blue dress uniform, he had on a black dress uniform with the normal gold star above the five-centimeter gold stripe and three one-and-a-quarter centimeter stripes of a full admiral. However, above his service medals, he had added a gold insignia of a great shark swimming between two crossed tridents and a wave extending on both sides.
"I like the uniform, Lucas," Lerman said, scanning him from head to toe. "Kind of a merger between the Black Guard and the navy. What's with the gold pin?"
"I toyed with horses," Lucas said, lips pursed. "You know, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, but horses are more of an army symbol. At one time, they had a light cavalry with men on horses."
"Does this mean that you are back and brought us the solution to our problem?" Olivia asked. "Or that you want a new uniform since you aren't the chief of the army or the navy?"
"Yes, not exactly, and sort of," Lucas said, a small smile touching his lips. "Yes, I'm back. The sabbatical was a good idea, and it did help to clear my mind. I decided we were trying to be innovative–to improve something we already have–rather than being creative–making something new to address the specific problem. So, not exactly, I have not solved the problem, but I think I know how to go about developing a solution. To do that, I will need to create a new command. J-SOC, Jax Special Operations Command."
"Why do we need a new command, and what will this new command do?" Geller probed.
"Research, development, and delivery," Noam replied.
"Lucas, we already have research and development units in every service," Geller said, sounding exasperated.
"Correct, Olivia, and they are very innovative." Lucas smiled. "But not creative. When is the last time they created something new? That is not totally their fault. They are looking for solutions to the same old problems and focused on a specific service. The new organization will be looking at our joint problem, which will require a new solution that reaches across the services. For example, a solution to our current problem would be to build more factories to produce more cruisers, to develop better missiles, and to improve our ECM and fighter technology. We decided two years ago that would not work, but even if it did, we would destroy the fabric of Jax. Better to join the alliance."
Geller and Leman both choked on their drinks.
"That's a scary thought," Leman said while trying to wipe the kaffa he had spilled off his jacket.
"You are right, Lucas, and that is the reason we sent you on a sabbatical," Geller conceded, relaxing in her chair. "Let's hear what giving you two years of vacation earned us."
"Create the J-SOC, put me in command, fund it, give me the priority to staff it, and I believe I can provide us with a creative solution to our problem."
"Believe?" Geller asked, frowning so hard her eyes were narrow slits.
"You trusted me enough to come up with a solution" – Lucas shrugged – "and I feel that I have found a potential solution. Now you have to trust that I can deliver. Only the space gods can give you guarantees."
"What are you going to need?" Lerman asked, bringing the discussion back to reality.
"I have several ideas, but I don't know whether they are practical. Therefore, I will need a small factory to develop prototypes, and people to test, develop, teach others, and eventually to take them to war."
9 - Graduation
"This is a Javelin, our newest Jax fighter," Lieutenant Commander Jacsis said, pointing to a plane sitting on a runway.
"It's very big," I said, never having seen a fighter and not being able to imagine a cruiser having sufficient space to carry twenty or more of them. "I had imagined them more like racing cars."
Jacsis gave a small laugh. "They could be much smaller if it only had to carry a pilot or two, but a fighter carries a large variety of weapons and needs large engines to attain the speeds necessary to avoid the enemy's fighters and cruisers, which are shooting missiles and lasers in an attempt to destroy it. The slower you go, the easier it is to target." He paused and looked around the group. "Everyone will get a ride in the fighter, after which you will need to decide if you want more training on how to fly and fighter tactics, or more time learning to fix them when the pilot mistreats it. Volunteers?"
I raised my hand to ask a question, but Jacsis interrupted before I could speak.
"Good. Caitlin is our first volunteer," Jacsis said, smiling, knowing I hadn't intended to volunteer. "Nine of you, go with Caitlin and get suited up. The rest of you, sign up for another day. I can only take ten of you each day."
I giggled, realizing I did sign up to fly, not to sail an ocean-going ship. I entered the building, and two petty officers retrieved gear from the rows and rows of shelves and helped me get it sealed.
With my helmet in hand, I walked out to where Jacsis was standing. "Ready, Commander Jacsis. Let's do it," I said, excited at what would be my first ride in a war machine.
He turned and started climbing up the ladder to a stubby wing where he stood waiting for me. When I arrived, he showed me how to drop into the cockpit. I suspected this was a trainer as it had two seats side by side.
"This is a trainer for the Javelin fighter. Usually, the ECM operator sits in a chair behind the pilot," he said and began explaining the function of each switch and gage. Eventually, he touched a switch, which closed the transparent canopy. "Ready, Caitlin?"
"I think so," I said and nodded.
"Flight control, this is Javelin Trainer T12 ready for takeoff," Jacsis said with his hand on the brake.
A voice came over the helmet speakers. "Flight Trainer T12 you are cleared for takeoff on runway A2."
Jacsis released the brake and slowly taxied over to a sign reading A2.
"Normally, on a cruiser, you will be pushed out of the fighter bay. Brace yourself," he said while slowly pushing the throttle forward. The fighter speed increased, and before I knew it, we were climbing almost vertically. Within seconds, the buildings and people below were reduced to specks. Only minutes later, we streaked by Adamah, the Jax Space Station, which looked like three wheels with spokes. Separated by a thousand meters, each wheel was attached to a four-thousand-meter-long trident. Hundreds of small maintenance ships and shuttles were flying to and from each wheel, looking like bees around a hive.
"What do you think, Caitlin?" Jacsis asked.
"Amazing, simply amazing." I sighed reverently and was sad to see the flight end.
Decision Time: Fly or Fix
Eight days later at our usual Rex Clique after-dinner meeting and after a half-hour of meditation, Axelle asked in Standard, "Has everyone decided on which option they are going to choose for our final six months: flying, fighter maintenance, or continuing with the normal curriculum?"
"I want to learn how to fly a fighter and the tactics associated with fighting them," I said, unable to think about anything else since that first flight.
"How will that fit in with wanting to get a position on the Bridge?" Estee asked.
"Actually, I think it is a perfect fit," I said, having spent most of my time thinking about just that. "The only way…well, the best way to understand when fighters can be the most effective is to have qualified to be a fighter pilot. Learning how to fix one won't provide the insights of having flown one. I don't think I would like to be a fighter pilot, but it's certainly tempting."
The discussion went on several hours past lights out.
In the end, the Rex Clique decided to take the Fly option.
10 - Unexpected Choices
We had all submitted our three choices two days ago and were told we would find out the following morning. Consequently, no one slept that night; instead, we stayed up all night having an unofficial party, much of the time in the common area, determining what our male friends had decided.
"Well, Caitlin, are you as nervous as I am?" Ryan asked. "I know you and I scored at the top of our classes, but so did others, and the available Bridge positions have to be sparse unless they built a bunch of new cruisers in the past couple of years."
"I'm hoping fighters is a good second choice," I said. "Each Jax cruiser carries twenty fighters, and they need another ten for backups…not to mention the casualties are higher…in war."
"I like flying them," Ryan said hesitantly. "But even during peace-time exercises, they are dangerous. We are moving at hypersonic speeds, performing offensive and defensive maneuvering while avoiding other fighters in the area."
Around six in the morning, the common room noise dropped significantly in the girls’ area and soon dropped to whispers. The explanation appeared a minute later as Commodore Marcel appeared, entering the common room from the girls’ recreation room. She wasn't shouting or looking angry, but she was heading straight for Ryan and me. I straightened to attention, not sure what to do when she stopped in front of us.
"Caitlin, I would like you to inform your Rex Clique that they will be in my conference room at nine forty-five hours today where you will receive your assignments. Wear dress whites, don't be late, and I expect you to be looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as the saying goes. Admiral Noam has requested your clique's presence at ten hundred hours, and, no, I don't know why. Hopefully, your clique hasn't been running illegal drugs, gambling, or conducting sex parties during your four years here. I would be very disappointed to hear that." She smiled as she turned and exited the same way she came.
Neither Ryan nor I had to notify anyone as by now we understood not to talk when a person who outranked you was talking, and not to breathe when a commodore spoke. Consequently, our eight-member clique had surrounded us before she had cleared the room.
"Pardon my ignorance, but who is Admiral Noam?" I asked. "And what does he do?"
"Rumor has it that he retired a couple of years ago," Ryan said. "You hear about Admiral Geller and General Lerman, but not Noam, although I think he was on the committee that manages the Jax military."
"The rank of Admiral says he is navy," Lydie said. "But I thought he was a general when he retired. Now he’s back as an admiral. That is strange. Why would the navy need two admirals?"
"The better question is what does an admiral want with us?" Kathri said. "We don't have long to find out." She looked at the clock hanging on the wall. "Four hours to look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed."
When we entered three hours and forty minutes later, the room had been cleaned, the chairs replaced with new chairs with cushions that had the Jax seal, and a sideboard with drinks and snacks.
“Nice to be an admiral," I said, waving at the table. "I would bet he didn't have to ask for snacks and that he likes everything on the table."
Before I could say more, Commodore Marcel walked in with another commander and shouted, "Attention!" We shot to attention as a small, stocky man entered behind her.
"At ease." Noam’s voice was soft and relaxed. “Take a seat. Commodore Marcel is passing a set of documents to each of you with your name, rank, birth date, and serial number. Don't open it for now. Caitlin, I understand you started this group when you were at South Lake.”
It was a statement, but I thought, Why?
"Sir, I don't think I started it. We had just arrived at South Lake Station, and a bunch of us were talking, sharing our histories, and found our goals were similar: to be part of the cruiser's Bridge personnel. Our parents had been honest with us, so we each knew what career specialty we wanted. We also discovered that each of us had more knowledge in a given area than the others, and we could benefit from that, so we decided to study together. Fortunately, we wound up together in the two-year curriculum. We graduated South Lake and again found ourselves in the same classes at East Lake. Since the eight of us were always together, we gave it a name–the Rex Clique. The other classmates insisted on referring to us as a clique, although we have never excluded anyone."
"Why Rex?" Noam asked when I finished.
"For Tyrannosaurus rex," I said and waited. He nodded for me to say more. "Well, our group has always been at the top of our classes…and I guess it fit nicely with the fact that the Tyrannosaurus rex was at the top of the food chain. We also liked the analogy to the expression: having a tiger, in our case a Tyrannosaurus rex, by the tail."
"Damn, Commodore, I like these people," Noam blurted. "If you will look at the second page, you will find your assigned specialty. That is your option if you don't like my proposal, even if you accept now but later want to change your mind.”
He got up and poured himself a cup of kaffa and stood talking with Marcel and a man I assumed was his aide-de-camp. My assignment was my number one pick. Looking around the table at the smiles, apparently everyone had received their number one or two pick. Noam returned to the front of the table.
"On the first page, next to the first empty box, is the statement: I will be stationed on a naval station which is not located close to a civilian population and has no opportunities for nights on the town. If that is acceptable, check the box and initial it.
"The next box has the statement: The work will be more dangerous than normal even in peace time. In war time, that risk could be several times higher. If that is acceptable, check the box and initial it.
"The next box has the statement: I will not be able to discuss my real work with anyone. If I do, I will be subject to a charge of treason against Jax." Noam looked around the room, noting each person's expression. What he saw was collective attentiveness. He would have expected the faces to have expressions ranging from surprise to fear to distrust, but what he saw was Let's get on with it expressions. "If that is acceptable, check the box and initial it."
"All right, if you have checked all the boxes and are still interested, sign your name," Noam said, somewhat surprised and amused by this group. "If not, please leave."
When no one moved, the unknown commander picked up each paper, and reviewed it. When he had looked at each paper, he spoke. "All certified, Admiral."
"Thank you, for your patience and what must appear a bewildering and strange interview," Noam said and smiled. "I assure you it was necessary. Let me tell you a story, which ironically is one of those things covered by those things you cannot repeat under penalty of treason. Admiral Geller, General Lerman, and I were discussing the future of Jax several years ago and realized that a Helix Alliance would provide Outpost and its allies the perfect opportunity to declare war on Jax with the support of the Helix Alliance, and that war would destroy Jax, since we would not surrender to the alliance under any circumstances."
"They sent me off on a sabbatical to clear my mind," Noam continued. "I concluded building more cruisers and fighters or improving our ECM or missiles or engines may delay the inevitable but would not solve the problem. We needed to think outside the box, to think what if? We needed a research and development group dedicated to this specific problem. I have several ideas, but they need to be fleshed out, then built, then tested. For those that are interested, you will be involved in each phase of the operation."
To Noam's surprise, we ignored him, rose, and huddled in a group. He shook his head when Marcel moved forward ready to say something to the group for their breach of conduct. "Commodore Marcel, they are perfect. You were a genius recommending them. They are the top students, have girls as well as boys, and communicate as a group. Picking eight to ten individuals would inevitably produce competitiveness, which can be counterproductive or produce a few dominant individuals who will tend to ignore the more creative solutions that didn't come from them. No, I'm more than pleased with this group." As he finished, we all returned to our seats as if returning from a scheduled break.
"Admiral Noam, we apologize for not waiting to be excused, but we needed to discuss what you have said before we each commit; otherwise, one or more of us might have made a decision he or she would regret," I said, my cheeks a pale pink from embarrassment.
"You are excused the unscheduled break," Noam said, barely able to avoid a smile. "Can you tell me what you discussed? Was it a collective vote?"
"Oh, no, sir. It's a discussion of the issues," I said. "In the group, we all have areas where we have more knowledge than the others because of our backgrounds, experiences, and parents, and of course each of us is considered better at one thing than another. So when we have concerns, we bring it up in the group and discuss it, or make observations. Like this time, Kathri, who monitors our meditation sessions, said she liked the idea of working for a man that can clear his mind before he makes a decision." I knew I had blushed flaming red as my cheeks were burning.
"As do I, Kathri," Noam said and smiled. "Before I continue, you must understand this is a volunteer assignment, and unlike other volunteer assignments you may get in the future, this one you can refuse without any consequences. So, next to the last empty box, write: I volunteer for service in the Jax Special Operations Command, and then check the box and initial."
As we did, the unknown commander walked around picking up our individual papers. Afterward, he held up the papers and nodded.
"Excellent," Noam said, smiling with a sense of relief. "First, the person who just picked up your applications is Commander Tadashi, who is a senior naval fighter commander. Although it is subject to change or refinement, here are some basics:
