The president had asked all of the military service chiefs to join him in the DUCC, as well as the Secretary of State and the heads of the CIA, FBI, and Homeland Security. All of them had been read into ‘Olympos,’ a new, special access clearance program that had been established for dealing with the Psiclopes. If you weren’t in the program, you didn’t know about the Psiclopes. Period.
The meeting itself was a ‘ghost meeting,’ similar to the meetings that were held in preparation for the mission to capture Osama Bin Laden seven years previously. The meeting wasn’t on the attendees’ calendars. No staff or aides were present, no agenda was written down, and no notes were taken. In fact, the only paper in the room was a pile of folders in front of the army’s chief of staff.
The Chief of Naval Operations (CNO), Admiral James Wright, spoke first. “The most difficult part of this is going to be finding a crew of 400 sailors to man their ship. You can’t just take that many people away and not have it be noticed. The only thing worse than grabbing a crew of 400 from one of our ships would be to try to take 400 people in small numbers from all over the navy. People might not notice as quickly, but then it won’t be a ‘crew;’ no one will be used to working with anyone else and things won’t flow as easily as if the group all came from the same unit. It would also make trying to select who goes a nightmare. It’s far better to use a full ship’s crew. We can’t have people trying to work things out in space ‘on the fly.’
Most of the senior officers in the room nodded their heads, with the exception of the air force’s chief of staff, General Joseph Simms, who was sitting next to the CNO. The air force had fought hard to be the branch of the military selected to man the spaceship, although the navy had been chosen. The chief of staff’s hand went up.
“If I may,” he said, “the air force has come up with a variety of manning solutions that we would be happy to implement.” The chief of staff’s tone of voice always sounded whiney to the president and grated on his nerves. Especially when he was more interested in jockeying for position than solving the problem at hand.
“Damn it, general, we have been over this!” said the president, raising his voice. “The decision has been made to use the navy to man the ship. Don’t waste my time on your inter-service rivalry!” The president wanted to squash this early, or it would linger throughout the meeting. While all of the services had worked together well during the Sino-American War, things were rapidly going back to the way they were before it.
“Well, we still have those solutions, if anyone wants to look at them,” General Simms muttered.
“Anyway,” said the CNO, “we have decided that it is better to use the crew of a ship so that they have unit cohesion. Space is too unforgiving to do otherwise.” He looked around, but no one disagreed this time. “It looks like we can use the crew of the USS Vella Gulf,” he said. “The ship is about to make its last deployment before being decommissioned. There are about 35 officers and 350 enlisted on the Vella Gulf, putting it right at the target number the Psiclopes said was necessary to run their ship effectively.”
“Won’t people miss a ship like that?” asked the president.
“We’ve already begun working on a cover story that will help,” answered the CNO. “Instead of deploying with the carrier battle group, it will deploy for independent anti-piracy operations. Before they deploy, the ship will have a communications failure that will prevent the crew from having internet access while on deployment. That way, families won’t expect to be in contact with them on a daily basis. We’ll work out the rest of the deception plan as we go along.”
“Sounds good,” said the president.
“Moving on to the air wing,” continued the CNO, “we have come up with several options. For the same reasons listed previously, it is better to take a squadron, or part of a squadron, and keep it together for the ship’s deployment. As we really don’t know much about the fighter craft that the Psiclopes have, well, nothing really, we thought that the best solution would be to pull one of the Hornet squadrons that just got back from cruise. They are used to flying with each other and their re-deployment won’t affect any of our long-term plans.”
“As I understand it, Lieutenant Hobbs squadron was just about to go on cruise, not come back from it. Isn’t that correct?” asked the president.
“Well, yes, sir, that is correct,” said the CNO. “That squadron, the Blue Blasters of VFA-34, is due to go on cruise in a couple of months. Pulling them from the deployment schedule now would cause a huge disruption to our rotation, so I thought it would be better to use a different squadron.”
“IS NO ONE LISTENING TO WHAT I AM SAYING?” roared the president. He was a big man with a big voice, and he used every decibel he had at his disposal. He took off a few decibels as he continued, “There is a race of cannibals that may be coming this way. They are technologically way ahead of us. We need to do everything possible to get ready to meet this challenge. The only thing that we have going for us is a group of three aliens who need our help. These aliens have only asked for a couple of things, one of which is to have Lieutenant Hobbs’ group be part of the manning for this mission. I don’t know why they want this group, but damn it, that group is going to be part of this mission! Am I clear on this?”
“Yes sir!” said a chastised and embarrassed CNO. The people on both sides of the CNO looked embarrassed just to be sitting next to him.
“Good!” said the president at a volume that was not, quite, yelling. “We don’t have time for hidden agendas. We don’t have time for inter-service rivalry. We don’t have time for anything that doesn’t make us stronger as a nation! We don’t just stand to lose; WE STAND TO GET EATEN! I, for one, do NOT want to be on any alien’s menu, especially ten foot tall carnivorous frogs that suck the blood out of their victims while they are still alive!” Several of the people in the room had obviously not heard about the dietary practices of the Drakuls, and there were many faces around the table that went decidedly green with the announcement.
“Now,” said the president, calming himself, “can we get past all of this crap and figure out how we are going to not just preserve our way of life, but that of our entire planet?” He looked around to see everyone nodding in agreement. “Good,” he said. He looked at the CNO and asked, “So...what are we going to do about the attached air wing?”
“The other option we looked at, which I think would probably work better, is to use four pilots from the Blue Blasters,” replied the CNO, “including Lieutenant Hobbs. We will also use four pilots from the U.S. Air Force (USAF), to be drawn from the F-35 community. That way, we are better able to spread out the experience that they will get on this mission, so that they can train more pilots in both of the services upon their return.”
“Out-STANDING!” said the president, rubbing his hands together. “Now we’re starting to make some progress here. Just maybe we can save the world, after all.” He looked at the army’s chief of staff, General John Dixon. “What is the plan for the ground force?”
General Dixon was more of a rule follower than the other senior officers. A prior Ranger who was used to getting hard tasks and accomplishing them, he had worked closely with his five ‘Olympos’ staff members to develop a plan that met the president’s goals. While some people might uncharitably call him a ‘suck-up,’ he considered himself to be an excellent staff officer that worked hard to exceed his boss’ expectations. A short man at 5’6”, exceeding expectations was a trait that had carried him through the ranks of the Rangers. He just out-worked the competition. He looked at the Secretary of State, Isabel Maggiano, and said, “The Secretary of State and I have come up with several options for the ground force. As I understand it, the ship has room for approximately 35 ground force members, not counting Lieutenant Hobbs, who will be the unit’s commander.”
General Dixon pulled out a sheet of notes from the top folder. “Based on his lack of training, Lieutenant Hobbs would not be my first choice for the position, but I un
derstand the need to have him in charge. I know that he did well during the war; however, I think it’s important for his XO to be very experienced, so I have a First Lieutenant from the army’s Delta Force in that position. Normally, a platoon doesn’t have two officers, but I thought it would be appropriate in this case, especially as Lieutenant Hobbs will have other duties as a pilot, as well. The officer that I have in mind is a prior enlisted soldier, with lots of special forces time under his belt.” The president nodded. That made good sense and met the desires of the Psiclopes, while still strengthening their force.
The general continued, “The rest of the platoon will be broken down into two forces. The first of these, the ‘space force,’ will be made up of 16 men led by Master Chief Ryan O’Leary. These men and women will primarily train for combat in space. There will be another 16 men, under the leadership of Master Sergeant Aaron Smith, who will be primarily responsible for any ground-based combat. Although both groups will have their own areas of expertise, both will also cross-train in the other’s specialty, so that both groups can be prepared for all occasions.” He looked up at the president and said, “That part is all pretty straight-forward. Here’s where Isabel and I have come up with some options for you. If you are going to brief any of the other countries about the Psiclopes and this mission, we would like to include them in the make-up of this force. It will allow them to participate and will hopefully strengthen our ties with them. It will also allow us to bring in some other experience and ways of thinking.”
He paused, looking around the room. “The bottom line,” he continued, “is that we just don’t know what our troops will face out there. Having a diverse group, with a wide variety of experience, will help them to survive any situation.”
“That makes good sense,” said the president. “I had been weighing whether to tell our allies before the mission or afterwards. I think I will tell them ahead of time and try to get you the people you are looking for.” He paused. “You have obviously been giving this some thought. Who are you looking to recruit for the mission?”
“The Secretary of State and I have discussed this quite a bit,” he agreed. “Here’s our plan.” He looked down at his notes. “First, we’d like to reward our allies that came in on our side of the war. Not only to show that we appreciated their support, but to tie them into our plans going forward. Once it comes out that we have made extraterrestrial contact, the political arena is going to be a nightmare.” General Dixon looked at the president. “I don’t envy you at all with that,” he commented, “but Mrs. Maggiano and I have tried to help make that transition smoother.”
He looked at the list. “Japan and Korea both risked a lot to join us and helped make our defense of Taiwan a success, especially Japan. I would like to have one of the Japanese Special Forces Group soldiers and a Korean soldier from their 707th Special Mission Battalion. The Brits have always stood by our side, and I would like to have one of their Special Air Service troops for the ground force and a Special Reconnaissance Regiment soldier for the space force. Also from our NATO allies, I would recommend a German soldier from their Paratrooper Battalion 263 and an Italian Naval Special Forces sailor. The last three would come from nations that helped in the war: a sailor from the Australian Navy’s clearance diving teams, a Chilean combat air controller and a member of India’s Commando Battalion for Resolute Action, their COBRA group.”
“Nice touch on including India,” the president said. “Their moving troops toward the Chinese border was very helpful in ending the conflict, and it will be good to have their billion people on our side moving forward, both for the economic engine they can bring, as well as for a counterweight against further Chinese aggression.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied Isabel Maggiano. The Secretary of State was a short and stocky woman who always wore some of the tallest high-heeled shoes she could find so that she didn’t have to look up as far at her contemporaries. “We also looked at the Russian Spetsnaz, Israeli Egoz Reconnaissance unit and French Naval Commandos, but each of those nations comes with baggage. The Russians are still mad at us for sinking their destroyer during the war. They might have kept the secret, but they might not have, just to spite us. Having the Israelis would have caused a lot of difficulty with all of the Arab nations, especially since none of them are included. As far as the French go, they were the only NATO nation to not give us their full support during the war, and anyone they sent might be more interested in industrial espionage than in helping the team.”
“All of these people, as well as some additional Americans from the other services, would augment the platoon by filling in the slots of people that were killed or incapacitated during the war,” said the general. “As requested by the Psiclopes, we will keep the surviving members of the platoon essentially intact.”
The director of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), Dick Bartlett, raised his hand to get the general’s attention. Bartlett was a man of many faces, the CNO knew, who was equally adept at conning money from Congress as he was picking up women. He’d take candy from a baby if he thought he could get away with it. He usually could, too. “Watch this,” whispered the CNO to the chief of staff of the air force. “I’ll bet he’s got a guy.”
“What do you mean?” asked the chief of staff, who was relatively new, to the CNO.
“He’s always got a guy,” answered the CNO. “If we went to the surface of the moon, he’d probably say that he’s already got a guy there.”
General Dixon acknowledged the CIA director, who said, “I have a guy that would be perfect for the platoon, as well.” The CNO looked at the air force chief of staff and rolled his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” said General Dixon. “This is a military organization.”
“I understand that,” Bartlett said, “and I have a former SEAL in my organization that would be absolutely perfect for this platoon.” He looked around the room and said, “He’s SAD/SOG,” as if that explained everything.
“What the hell is a SAD/SOG?” whispered the air force chief of staff.
“It’s the CIA’s version of special forces,” replied the CNO. “The Special Activities Division is the CIA group that does clandestine missions and covert operations. The Special Operations Group is the department of operatives that collects intelligence in countries where the U.S. doesn’t want to be associated. They’re the folks that the government denies all knowledge of.”
“Are they any good?” asked the chief of staff.
“Oh yeah,” replied the CNO. “They’re ultra elite. The whole organization is made up of former SEALs, Green Berets and 24th Special Tactics Squadron troopers. They can do anything from direct action missions to assassinations to special reconnaissance. They’re also full-time spies, who collect intelligence wherever they go.”
After a pause and a frown, General Dixon asked, “I expect your guy has a military rank that we could recall him to, so that he would fit into the unit?”
“Of course he does,” answered Bartlett. “You can list him as Corporal John Jones.” Even the air force chief of staff could tell that name was bullshit. “He’s trained in combat SCUBA, hand-to-hand combat, apprehension avoidance, cyber warfare and tactical communications, among other things,” continued Bartlett. Thinking about ‘Mr. Jones’ last mission, he added, “He’s also pretty good with improvising explosive devises and hot-wiring vehicles.”
“Wonderful,” said the CNO, in a stage whisper. “If there are any space cars, he can steal them for us.” Several people around the CNO giggled, eliciting a glare from Bartlett.
“I’ll put him up against anyone you’ve got!” said Bartlett, voice rising.
“That’s fine,” interrupted the president, anxious to keep things on track, “I’m sure he is extremely capable and would be an asset to the team. I’m also sure that he would be there to try and collect as much intelligence as possible, which you WILL make known in its entirety to this entire group. Is that understood?”
A master of
his own domain, the director wasn’t used to being spoken to so abruptly. He nodded his head, although somewhat stiffly.
“Good,” said the president, moving on. “He’s on the team.” Looking back to General Dixon, he asked, “What about Canada? I didn’t hear any mention of our neighbors to the north. Admittedly, they were more invested in the problem than any other country, with Chinese forces only 100 miles from some of their cities, but they were actively involved and came unconditionally when we called. Do you have something for them?”
“We looked at that,” said the General, “but they didn’t have any ground forces that brought capabilities beyond what we had. They do, however, also fly the F-18 Hornet; we thought they might be a good fit for the space fighter squadron.”
A flash of annoyance went across the CNO’s face as the army chief of staff discussed matters that were the navy’s prerogative, but then Admiral Wright realized, having already been chewed out once for it, he needed to think bigger. “I agree,” he said finally. “Perhaps we could get two aviators from Canada who are used to flying with each other and integrate them together.” Heads nodded around the table.
Theogony 1: Janissaries Page 3