The Chief looked at the eleven folders lining his desk and smiled.  Soon, his Rigan counterpart would arrive for their first official meeting.  He wanted to be prepared.  Anderson was ready to hand over his files on Darien and his team – the Falcon and his cohorts had acquired quite a stack of paperwork during their stay at Center Neptune.   But Professor Randor, the newly appointed coordinator of R-Command, didn’t just want to collect the new team’s files.  He also wanted to pick Anderson’s brain about training, implant technology, and the overall mechanics of running a team of cerebonically-enhanced young fighters.

The members of R-Command had finally been selected by the Security Council.  In addition to Darien, there were two other men, two women, and one shape-shifter.  The team was designed to work as two groups of three, but they also trained as a team of six.

Anderson took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.  He couldn’t fault the logic.  Rigans were most comfortable in groups of three for some reason.  However, the two women on the team were from Earth and the shape-shifter was from Planet 78, a new addition to the Federation in Sigma Minor.  It was an interesting mix.  

R-Command had been at Center Neptune for the past six months, training alongside G-Force while Randor oversaw the building of their facility on planet Riga.  Since Jason’s second reinstatement, the two teams had finally been at full strength.

Darien was proving to be an able leader, both within his team and working alongside G-Force.  While still not comfortable with Mark, he had a good rapport with both Jason and Tiny and had even reached out to Princess to make amends.  And although it had taken an explosion to do it, the mecha warehouse mission had cemented a friendship between Darien and Keyop.  Chief Anderson chuckled slightly.  At least something good came out of that disaster.  The Rigan commander still gave Keyop weekly drawing lessons.  

Galaxy Security planned to launch R-Command within a few weeks.  Gal Sec brass hoped to rotate the workload between the two teams.  However, both mentors could easily envision their teams working in tandem to repel Zoltar and his attacks.  The Chief and Randor felt pleased and relieved that their groups were comfortable working together. 

Chief Anderson put his glasses back on and took a sip of coffee.  It just might work. Maybe I can finally reduce their workload.  They could use a real vacation.  He glanced at the picture of the five young adults on his desk.

If the past year had taught Chief Anderson anything, it was that G-Force, while they might be dedicated and inseparable, certainly weren’t invincible.  He set R-Command’s information aside and glanced over the remaining five folders.

As anticipated, Mark was recovering nicely from implant surgery.  Unlike Jason, his post-surgical balance was intact and his humor was good.  The team had responded well to having him back in command. 

The Chief skimmed through Mark’s recent medical reports.  Most were unremarkable.  For that, the Chief was extremely grateful.  He didn’t think he could handle another situation like Jason’s.

Mark still suffered the occasional headache, though, and he had missed a mission and several briefings in the past six months due to what Chief Anderson now suspected were migraines.  He’d been working with Mark on relaxation techniques, watching what he ate, keeping the commander on a schedule, but neither man could find a correlation yet.  Not having an identified trigger was frustrating, but not insurmountable.

The Chief set Mark’s folder aside and cast a glance at Jason’s.  He sighed, picking up Princess’ paperwork instead.

Apart from her leg injury, the Swan’s recent medical history was unremarkable too.  She’d undergone physical therapy after the second surgery on her thigh, but she didn’t seem to have any residual effects other than a nasty scar.  Chief Anderson had immediately ordered a redesign of her uniform.  There obviously had been a structural flaw in those flesh-colored tights. 

Princess seemed happier with Mark back as Commander, but – and here Chief smiled briefly – she had recently requested to attend the same leadership training classes as Mark and Jason.  Chief Anderson had been more than happy to sign off on her paperwork.  Despite the fiasco at the mecha production facility – which surely wasn’t her fault, he reasoned – she had proven herself an able commander.  He was proud of her. 

Tiny still needed to lose weight.  The Chief noted that he had made this same observation at every physical, but during the Owl’s last assessment, the amount of weight he needed to lose had finally dropped.  Chief Anderson smiled again, wider this time.  Tiny had certainly proven his worth during Mark and Jason’s recovery.  Darien still talked about Tiny’s dedication and bravery during the Spectran mecha warehouse mission.  As a result, the entire R-Command team was star-struck by the Owl. 

Keyop, fortunately, showed no ill effects from his concussion.  He’d recently shot up in height, though, so along with a new visor, he’d acquired a whole new uniform.  Mark had put him in charge of training the new Rigan squad in aerial maneuvers, in part to instill some respect for the young Swallow, and in part to acknowledge Keyop’s superiority as an aerials instructor.  Keyop was still overseeing Jason’s training.

Jason.  The Chief took a deep breath and opened the Condor’s file.  He shook his head.  How much of this can I share with Randor? 

Due to Jason’s residual problems post-implant surgery, Chief Anderson had gone to extreme measures to guard the Condor's current medical condition.  A portion of Jason's medical records were missing from his official file.  Some were hidden deep in Chief Anderson’s lockbox, other observations existed only in the Chief's mind.  He rubbed his eyes behind his glasses.  There's so much that I can't say. 

But I can’t risk Randor making the same mistakes that I’ve made, either.  He needs to know what will happen if he’s not careful.  Implants are not infallible.  Don’t take your team’s health for granted!  You should - no, you must! - keep close tabs on their medical care.   Don’t let things slide.  Don’t let it come to this.

Anderson tried to think of how to phrase Jason’s current situation.  He knew that he should be more diplomatic, but the first thing that came to mind was: Frustrating as hell.

He thought of the good news:  Jason was back in action.  He was thrilled to be back on the team.  He was field-ready, eager, always the first to sign up to learn something new, be it a martial arts technique or a new language.  His attitude, though still sometimes surly, had largely improved since his pre-surgery days.   Jason was always ready for work and he always worked hard. 

And that was also the bad news.  Chief Anderson sighed.

Jason had always pushed his body to the limit.  In the past, it wasn’t a serious problem.  Even now, most of the time, Jason could endure longer than anyone else on the team.  But put him under extended days of physical stress – long hours in the field, back to back missions – and Jason’s implant problems flared up, putting him at serious risk from Spectra’s advances.   

When Jason’s implant was drained, his energy levels plummeted, and he was vulnerable to illness and injury.  During these times, the Chief constantly had to remind Jason to take it easy.  But as soon as their workload eased and Jason felt better, he shrugged off the warnings and hit the world at break-neck speed once again.

The Chief knew that his adopted son was trying to follow orders, but it simply wasn’t in the Condor’s nature to sit still.  Just today, the Chief and Jason had butted heads over racing.  Jason wanted to spend more time at the track.  But he knew – he has to know, doesn’t he? – that he couldn’t go back to racing at a professional level. 

For now, the only solution during peak periods of battle was to conserve Jason’s energy as best they could and limit the number of times Jason transmuted between his Condor and civilian identities.  Something about the transmutation process itself seemed to drain Jason’s energy.  The Chief had experimented with new frequencies, working on altering the energy signatures, but, so far, nothing seemed to help. 

Frustrating. The Chief allowed himself an impatient sigh.  He’s so stubborn.  The Chief frowned and let out another sigh.  Almost as stubborn as me.  There has got to be a way to fix his transmutation cycle.  There must be something that I’m missing.

In the meantime, the Chief was forced to subject Jason to extensive and embarrassingly thorough health monitoring.  It was tiresome for them both.  Jason hated being spied on and Chief Anderson hated doing the spying.  But Jason wasn’t the best judge of his own fitness.  Without someone keeping tabs on him, he pushed himself too hard in every area – racing, karate, boxing, leadership training.  He even worked too hard at yoga and tai chi, something the Chief previously would have said was impossible. 

Trust Jason to do the impossible. 

The Chief chuckled.  The Condor was, in so many ways, the best and worst performer on his team. 

Nothing’s really changed, then, has it?  The older man shook his head with a wry smile as he closed Jason’s file.

At the sound of a knock, he opened the door for Professor Randor.  There was work to be done.