by Daniel Gibbs
“Develop some problem with your Lawrence drive. I need a few hours, but I have an idea.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me yet. What I’m thinking is extremely high risk, and I’ll still need presidential approval.”
“We’ll be standing by, sir.”
“MacIntosh out.”
The screen blinked out, leaving David alone in his cabin. Oh boy, I just went off on my commanding officer. MacIntosh did have a point. The Terran Coalition couldn’t afford the bad optics of big footing the neutral planets, but they couldn’t let this stand either. They vowed as a people when they’d escaped Earth that mass killings and genocide would never happen again. It couldn’t start now, not in their space, and not on their watch.
David stood and forced his emotions down. He had a job to do; regardless of what happened here. The best thing for me is to go about my duties and allow the general to keep his word. MacIntosh is a good man, and I know he’ll do the right thing in the end. Walking out of his cabin and back toward the bridge, he found himself very conflicted as to what to do next.
Andrew MacIntosh walked through the hallway of the Canaan Government Complex in his “A” uniform, as his destination was a conference room that contained, among others, the President of the Terran Coalition, Justin Spencer. The secretary of defense fell in beside him, matching his long strides.
“Mr. Secretary,” MacIntosh said in greeting.
“Andrew, I read over your pre-brief.”
“And you think I’m insane?”
“No. I’d personally like to bomb those smug assholes back into the stone age from orbit. That said, we have to adjust for the geopolitical realities of the situation. Declaring war, staging a police action, or any other overt military acts against Monrovia is out of the question.”
“I agree,” MacIntosh said.
“Then what?”
“I’ve got a plan. Let me present it; then you can tell me if I’m relieved of command.”
Dunleavy laughed. “You’d have to go nuts for that to happen, old friend. This pet project of yours has damn near won the war.”
“We’ve got a long way to go before we win the war. But it’s given us a chance, just like I said it would.”
“Yes, I regret not believing in it now. If we had finished the Lion of Judah sooner, who knows?”
MacIntosh shook his head. “Everything seems to happen for a reason. The Lion arrived at the exact right moment, engaged the League at the right moment, and that sequence of events is what, one in a trillion?”
“Still, I wish we’d had access to that technology sooner.”
As the two men paused outside the conference room the meeting was being held in, MacIntosh gestured to the open door. “You first, sir.”
Dunleavy nodded and inclined his head, then walked through the open door. MacIntosh followed, to find only President Spencer and two of his ever-present bodyguards; they were with him all hours of the day and night.
“Gentlemen, have a seat,” Spencer said, all business.
MacIntosh closed the door to the conference room behind him while Dunleavy took a seat in one of the richly appointed chairs directly across from the president. MacIntosh joined him a few moments later, sitting to his left.
“I’ve read over your report, Andrew. I’m at a loss to explain how we weren’t aware of this information before sending the Lion of Judah on a port call.”
“Mr. President, it would appear that we had an intelligence failure. Our assets on Monrovia have always been a bit thin, and most of them were rolled up the last few years. With other threats out there, we didn’t invest in getting new assets. The Monrovian government controls its media and punishes dissent harshly. We went back and reviewed the referendums, and there are several that were voted on, but none are directly calling for the execution of believers. Our intelligence analysts believe that most people don’t know what’s going on,” Dunleavy said.
“Gentlemen, we’ve got a catch twenty-two situation here. I want nothing more than to go in guns blazing. But, if we do that, we hand a major propaganda victory to the League, who will use it to bash our heads in on the galactic stage as warmongers and hypocrites who say one thing and do another. At the same time, if we allow this to occur, we’re complicit in the genocide of millions of people. I won’t have that on my conscience.”
MacIntosh cleared his throat. “Sir, I believe I have a solution to thread the needle.”
“You want to call in a third party to deal with it?” Dunleavy asked.
“Yes. I have a group in mind that has the numbers, training, and capability.”
“Care to share?” Spencer said dryly.
“Except to say that they’re trustworthy and registered with the Coalition Defense Force as a preferred vendor, I don’t think I should, sir. You need plausible deniability if it blows up in our face. The only thing I require is your approval and authorization to transfer a modest amount of funds and military hardware.”
“A PMC?” Spencer asked sharply, referencing a private military corporation.
“After a fashion. A charitably funded outfit.” MacIntosh offered his own wry grin.
“Ah, yes, I should have known,” Dunleavy said. “I’ve no objections to this course of action, Mr. President.”
“What are their chances of success, Andrew?” Spencer asked, direct and to the point.
“As certain as we can be in this business, Mr. President. If anyone can do it, they can.”
Spencer nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, gentlemen. I’ll sign off on it. Andrew, don’t screw this up.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Carry on,” Spencer replied, standing from his chair.
9
Sara Sarno, Mother Superior of the Little Sisters of Divine Recompense, was in the middle of her daily prayers. Sitting in the pew of the small chapel on their remote abbey, she first prayed the rosary, as she did practically every morning. A sixty-nine-year-old woman that was born on New Brazil, her family traced its roots back to the old Earth country of Italy. Brushing a wisp of graying hair out of the way, she looked up to see a young novice standing off to the side.
“What is it, my child?”
“Mother Superior, please accept my sincere apology for interrupting your prayers. There is a vidlink message for you,” the young novice said hesitantly.
“From who?”
“General Andrew MacIntosh.”
Sarno smiled and stood. “Thank you for telling me. Is he still on the line?”
“Yes, Mother Superior. He said it was most important and to tell you the CDF is paying the cost of the call.”
“Return to your duties, then. I’ll make my way to the terminal.”
As the young woman nodded and scurried off, Sarno made her way to the lone communication link in the abbey and found it still on, with MacIntosh’s face half obscured.
“Andrew,” Sarno began, sitting down on the chair in front of the small camera. “It’s been far too long. How are you today?”
MacIntosh looked down and into the camera with a smile. “Greetings, Sara.”
“You used my first name and smiled. I don’t know what you want, but it’s going to be big.”
“Guilty as charged. But before we get there, how you have been?”
“The Sisters and I have soldiered on the last couple of years. We’re solving small problems and helping to spread God’s peace where we can. Thanks to your last contribution, we’ve been able to grow our ranks. Nothing ever gets thrown out here, you know. We’ve got equipment that was old at the beginning of the war, still perfectly functional.”
“What about you, though?”
“Is that concern in your voice?”
MacIntosh smiled. “Yes.”
“I took solemn vows, Andrew. It would be a sin to tempt me.”
“I know…that’s why I leave you alone as much as I can.”
“Except when you can’t. Tell me, what’s happened?”
> MacIntosh sat back, the camera showing that he was in his own office. “Colonel Cohen and the Lion of Judah have discovered that a neutral planet is committing genocide against its religious citizens.”
“That sounds like a job for the Terran Coalition Marine Corps,” Sarno said bluntly.
“It’s politically impossible for us to intervene overtly. We must have plausible deniability. I’ve been authorized to make that happen.”
Sarno’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
MacIntosh pressed on. “My file says your order is up to fifteen thousand strong. We believe that Monrovia—that’s the planet—would be incapable of resisting a modern force of five thousand. If you can commit half your strength, we’ll commit intelligence assets and targeting information.” “We’re also spread across eight different planets, providing peacekeepers and police services. I can’t just up and pull out.”
“If you can’t do it, I have to try to contract with a PMC. I don’t believe they’d have the same effectiveness, and I know they lack respect for human life.”
Sarno smiled. “Guilting me, Andrew?”
MacIntosh grinned. “Whatever it takes to accomplish the mission.”
“Is the Terran Coalition prepared to make a charitable… donation for this effort?”
“I can offer you seventy-five hundred battle rifles, ammunition, medical supplies, armored personnel carriers, five main battle tanks, Grant IIIs, not the IVs. Two hundred suits of combat armor, and a squadron of space superiority fighters in addition to three million credits.”
Sarno’s eyebrows shot up. That’s a lot of firepower, and we need the money. “You know we prefer non-lethal solutions, of course.”
“There is room for discussion.”
“It’s a good starting point… but I’d want at least fifty APCs, twenty tanks, a thousand suits of combat armor, and I’d like your latest versions of area denial weapons, especially the thermal-based models.”
“Done.”
That was too easy. Let’s see how far of a leash he’s got on this. “One more request, Andrew. Our assault ships are old and very costly to maintain. I want four of your last generation assault landers. I know the CDF just did a large upgrade program and you have a bunch of them sitting in mothballs. I’d also like one of the Gladius-class destroyers from the emergency reserve fleet.”
“That…could take some doing.”
“So is what you want me to do.”
“I thought your order’s mission was taking just causes and making them right in the eyes of God?” MacIntosh asked.
“It is, but those missions have a cost. Unlike most of the people we help, who are penniless and oppressed… the Terran Coalition has nearly unlimited amounts of funds. It can afford to help us aid the needy.”
“I can transfer everything but the ships now. The ships will be dependent on successful completion of the mission.”
“We haven’t exactly discussed what that mission is. Are you looking for us to effect regime change?”
MacIntosh shook his head. “No, we want you to set up safe zones, work with the local resistance movement to do so, and then we’ll send in transports to evacuate anyone willing to leave. The Terran Coalition cannot be involved in overthrowing the government of a neutral planet that was duly elected.”
“I’ll need to see your intelligence, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Once I review it and perform supplication, we will have an agreement, Andrew. Will I get to see you again in person?”
“Not on this one. You’ll interface with Colonel Cohen. He will brief you and transfer the supplies before getting underway for the Lion’s next mission.”
“Take care of yourself, Andrew. Are you taking care of your soul?”
“I try. Confession remains hard… the things we must do to win. There’s a stain on my soul that never quite disappears.”
“Trust in God,” Sarno replied. “He will see us through. He is the only thing worth our adoration and faith.”
“Take care of yourself out there. You’ll like the young colonel. He reminds me of you in younger days.”
Sarno smiled. “Then this ought to be an interesting mission. Godspeed, Andrew.”
A moment later, MacIntosh’s face blinked out and the terminal went blank, showing the video link program waiting for a signal or input. Sarno sat back in the simple chair, deep in thought. This will be a difficult undertaking, one that I will need to pray over before fully committing us. We could help so many more, though; God must see that in his plan for our order. The voice of her assistant, a young novice who had only been with them for three months, jolted her out of her reverie. “Mother Superior, I was sent to remind you that the ceremony for Sister Mary is to begin shortly.”
Sarno looked up and nodded. “I will join you all momentarily. I must pray first.”
“Yes, Mother Superior.”
A few hours later onboard the Lion of Judah, David was back in his day cabin, awaiting connection of another call from MacIntosh. I hope the general has some good news… I think he bought into my argument. We live in hope. He grinned at the thought of one of his favorite sayings.
MacIntosh’s face came into view as the vidlink synched.
“Good to see you, sir.”
“You as well, Colonel. How’s your ship’s budget for communication credits after the last couple of days?”
David laughed. “I’m glad it’s not coming out of my pay.”
“I’ve got some good news for you. We have a private military organization coming to help.”
“Who, sir?” David asked, his brow furrowed.
“A Catholic military order; the Little Sisters of Divine Recompense.”
David stared at MacIntosh quizzically. “Nuns, sir? With respect, we need an army, not a prayer team.”
MacIntosh laughed hard, shaking his head. “Colonel, I would pay my entire salary for the next year to see you say that to Mother Superior Sarno. I consider her order to be one of the finest private military organizations in the Terran Coalition. I’d strongly advise you to treat her and her fellow Sisters with respect.”
David felt his face turn red. That’s what happens when you assume. “I apologize, sir. I just think of nuns as sitting in a convent and praying or feeding the sick and hungry. They do great work, but clearly, more than that is needed here.”
“Well, they’re not exactly common knowledge, Colonel, so I’ll let it slide. They prefer non-lethal solutions, but we’re going to be augmenting their capabilities for this mission. I’ll send you a list of military hardware to transfer to them from the Lion’s stores. You will also provide them with intelligence data, target estimates, and a briefing on the situation.”
“Yes, sir. Will we be providing overwatch and fire support, sir? We’ve been working on a list of military targets.”
“Absolutely not, Colonel,” MacIntosh snapped. “You’re to have no direct involvement with this operation. You, nor any member of your crew. Are we clear?”
“Crystal, sir. Permission to speak freely, sir?”
“Granted, Colonel.”
“Sir, if we’re supplying them with arms from our stores and providing them targeting information, how are we not involved?”
MacIntosh shrugged. “There’s a big difference between supplying some gear that was paid for via foreign military sales and a sensor sweep… and attacking a neutral planet directly.”
“With respect, that’s BS, sir. We’re hiding behind plausible deniability and directly lowering the odds of success.”
“That’s your opinion, Colonel. Your orders stand.”
“Aye aye, sir,” David grated out.
“Colonel, I understand your idealism,” MacIntosh said after a few seconds of silence. “I respect it, and it’s one of the reasons I put you in command of the Lion. But… idealism doesn’t solve every problem, and there are instances where it can be fatal.”
“I don’t consider wanting to save the l
ives of millions of innocent people to be idealism, General. I consider it to be my duty.”
“Maybe in a perfect universe, you’d be right. But our leaders, even the best of them, are constrained by the limits of the political situation. President Spencer is doing everything he can, and so am I. I need you on board, Colonel.”
“I understand my orders, sir, and I will carry them out to the best of my ability,” David said, forcing his face into a neutral expression.
“Sometimes that’s all we’ve got. Orders are orders, and we don’t get to decide which ones we’ll obey and which we won’t, as long as they’re lawful.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Update me once you transfer the supplies, and the sisters are ready to engage.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Godspeed, Colonel. MacIntosh out.”
David stood up after the transmission cut out, tossing his tablet onto the desk angrily. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. Ultimately, MacIntosh was right; they had to follow orders. It didn’t change that sometimes they were wrong. He believed with every fiber of his being that they should storm that planet and to hell with the political consequences. Anyone who remotely had a moral code would see they were right. He guessed that was why he implemented orders and other people gave them. Okay, David, focus. Get things ready to go. He picked up his tablet and sent a message off to the senior crew to attend a meeting at 1400 hours.
Sarno’s inner sanctum sat deep within the convent. It was a small suite; the apartment she used to have on Canaan before joining the order was larger. There was just something peaceful and tranquil about it, though. I do love it here. When she needed to consider difficult issues or to consult with her most trusted lieutenants, what amounted to her living room was where she did it. A statue of the Virgin Mary adorned her fireplace mantel, along with various religious artifacts. In keeping with the rules of the order, there were very few personal touches; only a few picture frames that displayed rolling slideshows of friends and family throughout the years.
There was a polite knock at the door. “Come in, children!”
