No 'i' in Team

[Cassie Granger 0]

No "i" in Team

Part 1 - Joint Log - Rinax, Morrison, Granger

 

They're called units for a reason.

The prefix uni- comes from the Latin unus, meaning one.

It means any group of things regarded as one entity, single, and indivisible.

A unit is a group that works as an indivisible whole, a team.

 

As Delta moved through maneuvers, each one sensed the other, judging and reacting instantly to teammates' slightest movements. They moved as a unified, indivisible, synchronized whole, each member intimately aware of the the skill set of the other, each member depending on and reacting to the other as though they were connected: one fast-moving, decisive machine. The connection comes with repetitive training that produces a synergy, a chemistry that evolves into a team choreography, a rhythm and muscle memory that leaves the brain open to observe and assess situational changes in nanoseconds.

 

To over-simplify, it's like riding a bicycle. Your hands have one skill, your back, legs and feet have others, your inner ear eventually equalizes to achieve balance, your brain adjusts, the skills of each muscle group and sensory organ are merged, and the parts of the body work together to achieve the act of riding without falling so you can concentrate on your route and the obstacles in your path.

 

The difference is, of course, that the sequence of moves needed to ride a bicycle is simple and over time the muscles forget very little. The sequence of moves needed to use a weapon and operate as a team in a focused mission is complex; intense situational repetitive training is needed to sharpen and fine-tune that muscle memory or it becomes clumsy, awkward, and, at its worst, forgotten.

 

This is the way Special Operations FORECON Delta worked. It was, unfortunately, not exactly the way a ship's crew worked and it took all the concentration she could muster for Delta's team leader, MCpt Cassidy Granger, to quell her anxiety.

 

Operation Zeus Boy was coming down to the wire, and as the electric clock on the dining room wall of their 1960's bungalow just outside Kennedy Space Center moaned toward zero six hundred, Delta was ready, sitting with LtCdr Freeman, waiting for the others.

 

Situational changes being what they are, in the world of SpecOps you're at least 15 or 20 minutes early. Being late is not an option. Being late means you're behind the game, you're out of the loop when things go sideways. Being late means you balk, you miss a step by a second, you turn left instead of right, you step back instead of forward, you miss the shoulder tap or the hand signal and you instantly become a danger to your buddy, your team, and the mission. Worst of all, you may have to explain to your buddy's family, his parents, his wife, his orphaned children, that he's dead. Because of you. Because you were late.

 

Zero six ten and Delta team and LtCdr Freeman waited. Cdr Morrison eventually waddled in followed by Cdr Murphy and the rest. Slowly. In various stages of dress, eating, sipping coffee, sliding into a chair here and there, some reading the paper as Cdr Morrison gave his briefing.

 

Delta leader Cassidy Granger clenched her jaw, the gravity of the situation hitting her full force, knowing that the future as they knew it may change in an instant if this mission went south. And few seemed to realize it.