Strong and Courageous

by Daniel Gibbs

  “Mother Superior, Sisters, Colonel,” Calvin said in greeting.

  Sarno glanced up at him. “Thank you for joining us, Colonel Demood.”

  David inclined his head and shifted to one side, leaving a space for Calvin to stand that he gratefully took. They gathered around a large table with a map —an old-school paper map at that— of the planet’s surface. Different colored pins showed Monrovian troop concentrations, camp locations, and large supply centers. Dr. Tural and Amir entered together, taking open spaces up near the far side of the table.

  “I believe we are ready to begin,” Sarno said, looking about the room. “Let us pray.”

  Calvin bowed his head and closed his eyes as the older nun spoke once more.

  “Lord God, there is nothing that is beyond Your power, there is nothing beyond Your will. Bless our purpose here today, and help us to protect the oppressed, comfort those who are hurt, and strike fear into the hearts of those who would oppose your will. Bless those who stand with us and thank You for watching over us in our last battle. May we all serve You today in Your will, Amen.”

  “Amen!” Calvin said with gusto while all those around murmured the same.

  “I would first like to commend all involved for the success of our first engagement. All of you performed superbly, and in so doing, brought honor to the name of God and His commandments. We stand here now to decide on our next actions. Sisters, I know it is unusual to see outsiders among our ranks, but as they’ve fought beside you, I believe they showed their worth. So we will today ask for their counsel as well.”

  David nodded and respectfully inclined his head. “Thank you, Mother Superior. We are here but to serve.”

  “Our first order of business must be to begin to free those held in the internment camps established by the Monrovian government,” Sarno stated. “I believe that by doing so, we can bring hope to those still in bondage, increase the number of soldiers who support us, and show this wicked government that it cannot bind those who have faith any longer.”

  Dr. Tural cleared his throat. “Mother Superior, do you intend to use prisoners from the camps as combatants?”

  “There are only seventy-five-hundred of us versus a fifty-thousand-person strong military force. So yes, Doctor, I’m looking for all the additional troops I can get.”

  “Those people will likely have been starved, mistreated, and will be unable to fight without rehabilitation, food, and rest,” Tural said forcefully.

  “I think what the doctor is trying to say is that anyone we get out of those camps won’t be that useful to a war effort,” David amplified.

  Monahan shook his head and crossed his arms. “I would have to disagree, Colonel. Military-aged men and women are inside those camps. I’m sure they held up better than the rest and might be willing to pick up a weapon and help free their fellows.”

  “With all due respect, General… after a human being is starved and left without proper nutrition and exercise, the muscles atrophy. If they’re starved enough, the body begins to shut down.”

  “So we feed them, Doctor,” Monahan said, directing a bored look at Tural.

  “If we feed them normal food in that state, it would kill them. I’ve served in liberated League gulags, General. We lost twenty percent of our patients even with the best medical care available to us. By Allah, it would be against every medical ethic to ask these people to go out and fight.”

  “The sanctity of human and alien life is extraordinarily important to us, Doctor,” Sarno said. “Is it not possible, however, that some of these people will be in something approaching decent shape?”

  “It’s possible, but I don’t want us going into it thinking we’ll get an army out of the rescues. The first objective must be to do no harm.”

  “Then we agree,” Sarno stated before changing subjects. “What of our supplies, Colonel Cohen?”

  “Twenty-four to thirty-six hours away, Mother Superior. I’ll contact my guy tonight and confirm the details.”

  “Your guy?” Monahan said in a mocking tone.

  “Civilian defense contractor. Reliable and discreet. I’m confident he’ll get the supplies in here that we need.”

  “Then we have the subject of tactics to discuss. There are two main options here; we attack the camps and save as many as we can, or we could use our strength to attack government and military targets and try to bring down this government,” Sarno explained.

  David pointed to the nearest concentration camp on the map. “I strongly suggest we stick to liberating the camps for now, outside of strikes required to decrease their force effectiveness, Mother Superior.”

  “I disagree. We need to hit the Monrovian government as hard and as fast as we can and topple it. After that, nothing else matters,” Monahan said.

  “General, we don’t have the strength to do it. We have an island of superiority right now where we control the ground and air. Your stratofighter and space fighter strength is nearly three hundred craft. We’ve got twelve,” David shot back.

  “Your twelve are so advanced, our planes can’t even target them.”

  “Until they run out of missiles and get into visual range. No, sir, I cannot support that course of action. I believe we should stage a few hit-and-run attacks, mostly on airbases that house platforms capable of projecting power, and as much as possible stick to saving the innocents. And if you want to get cynical about it, pictures of half-starving people being ferried back here for medical treatment plays a hell of a lot better on the holochannels than pictures of dead Monrovian soldiers, followed by them claiming we’re religious terrorists.”

  Calvin shifted his feet. Heh, David sure doesn’t pull any punches. I gotta admit, I like his style. “I’ve got to back the colonel a hundred percent here, ma’am. This fight is as much about optics as it is the battlefield. I do enjoy shooting bad guys, preferably in the head, but this time, I think we need to focus our attention on the camps.”

  Sarno cleared her throat. “I appreciate your input, gentlemen. My order came here to liberate the oppressed people on this planet. After considering all points of view, the only viable way I see forward is to liberate as many camps as we can, as fast as we can. I am, however, very interested in degrading Monrovia’s ability to project offensive military power at us. Sister Arendse, have you reviewed the intelligence reports as to where the enemy stores its bombers and strike-capable fighters?”

  “Yes, Mother Superior. They have about sixty bombers. Most of their fighters can carry bombs and ground attack missiles. The bombers, however, represent the most dangerous target. At least fourteen of them can launch large numbers of cruise missiles,” Arendse said, speaking for the first time since the meeting began.

  “I would recommend we use our entire force to strike at this threat,” Amir interjected. “Two fighters on overwatch with anti-air munitions, the rest outfitted with as many pinpoint bunker penetration munitions as they can carry. If we get lucky, we’ll take out the entire force on the ground.”

  “I don’t believe in getting lucky, Colonel,” Sarno said with a sour expression. “What would you say the odds are of actually accomplishing that feat?”

  “Less than twenty percent, Mother Superior. A more likely outcome is we take out sixty to seventy percent of the bomber force.”

  “What are the odds that the Monrovian Air Force outfits itself for ground attack missions and comes after us, General?” David pointedly asked of Monahan.

  “Fitzroy is insane. She’ll order everything she’s got at us. The only reason they’re not attacking now is their bombers are typically outfitted for anti-capital ship attack in space. It will take some time to get the right missiles and bombs out of storage and rearm them.”

  “Then we’re agreed,” Sarno said. “Sister Arendse, I want your squadron wheels up as soon as possible.”

  Amir raised his hand. “If it’s all the same, I’d like to fly with the attack force.”

  “That’s Sister Arendse’s decision.”<
br />
  “I’d be grateful for Colonel Amir’s support, Mother Superior.”

  “Good. You all know what needs to be done. Get to it, and may God have mercy on our souls,” Sarno said, adjourning the meeting.

  Monahan was the first person out of the tent, followed by Sarno, and the rest of the sisters. Calvin, David, Tural, and Amir were left behind. “Anyone want to take bets on our chances here?” Calvin asked cheerfully.

  “I’m more worried about the logistics than anything right now. It’s going to take these guys some time to regroup. If we keep pouring on the pressure, it’ll keep them off balance. My concern is that we lose focus and turn this into a regime-change operation,” David replied.

  “Surely you don’t believe that the rulers of this planet should be allowed to stay in power?” Amir said, his tone one of disbelief.

  “Of course not, Hassan,” David began. “But we don’t get to make those changes. The mission the nuns signed up for is the same as the one I signed up for: save the innocents. If General Monahan and his resistance folks want to keep fighting, all power to them. Personally, I think they should cut bait, come with us, and we’ll deal with Monrovia after we’re done with the League.”

  “People do not like to give up their homes, Colonel,” Tural stated as if he knew from experience what he was talking about. “They become irrational; they cling to hope that isn’t real. The rebels are no different.”

  David just shook his head. “I feel for them, Doctor. But we’ve got to avoid mission creep. I know you all are doing your best to be force multipliers. I think we’ve struck a good balance between offering advice and not getting in the way of the Mother Superior. So keep it up.”

  “Yes, sir!” Calvin said crisply.

  “Of course, sir,” Hasan replied.

  “I will do my best,” Tural finished.

  “Thank you. Now move out.”

  The rest of them scattered, and Calvin found himself walking toward what they would have called the warrant-hole on a Marine base, where all of the shuttles were parked. I’m going to suit up and see if Kaufman will have me along again. Who would have thought it? A few officers and bunch of nuns wiping the floor of a whole lot of bad guys. Maybe there really is a God. He smirked to himself. I know I say that a lot. I wish I saw something more of Your intervention on something like a daily basis. He glanced up at the sky for just a moment before resuming his progress.

  Meanwhile, on the Lion of Judah, Kenneth Lowe entered his small cubbyhole of an office deep in the bowels of the ship. He had spent most of the day rounding up supplies and trying to avoid an increasing number of questions about why he was so secretive. I even had to lie to the people who work for me. Just can’t let them get caught up in this in case there are repercussions.

  Sitting down at his desk, Kenneth noted with satisfaction that he’d been able to obtain all of the supplies David had asked for; now he just had to find a way to get them to Monrovia safely and on time. Looking through his contact list, one name jumped out at him: James Henry. Captain Henry owned the Shadow Wolf, an independent freighter that he’d employed on a previous contract to move a cargo of munitions. There was a black mark next to his name from being cashiered out of the Coalition Defense Force, but Kenneth had been impressed with him when they met. Pulling up the vidlink profile, he sent him a request that began with, “Have a cargo for you to move on short notice. Good pay.”

  It didn’t take long for the vidlink to go through; James Henry’s face appeared on the monitor, a grin creasing his lips. “Well, I’ll be… Kenneth Lowe… I haven’t heard from you in two years. How are you?” he asked with hardly a trace of an accent to give away his birth; his skin tone indicated that somewhere he had relations in what was once known as Africa.

  Kenneth smiled in return. “Oh, I’m okay. Been keeping myself quite busy.”

  “I hear you’re working on the Lion of Judah these days.”

  “Guilty as charged. Been assigned to the ship for about eighteen months now.”

  “I doubt this is a social call, given your comm request language. Might make a guy like me think you’re a bit desperate,” Henry said, getting down to business quickly.

  “Yeah… I need someone with your special skills.”

  Henry smiled broadly. “Which set?”

  “Getting in and out of a tight place without drawing attention to yourself. I’ve got a cargo of medical supplies, munitions, and spare parts for delivery to a planet.”

  “Is this planet in the League of Sol?”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Why can’t you have the CDF drop it in for you, then? It can’t be as simple as delivering a cargo. Never is with you defense contractors.”

  “Well, the planet in question is Monrovia.”

  Henry’s jaw dropped open. “You want me to fly into an active war zone… wait a minute, the CDF is supplying those nuns?” he asked with a tone of disbelief. “I thought it was a joke when I first heard the holonet broadcast.”

  “No joke. But they need supplies, and I have them ready.”

  Henry narrowed his eyes, staring at Kenneth through the commlink so intently, he thought the man was looking into his soul. “Is this a sanctioned CDF op?”

  “No, James, it’s not.”

  “I want quadruple my normal charge.”

  Kenneth’s face twisted. “I don’t have that kind of cash! Double is the best I can do.”

  “You’re obviously getting money from somewhere. Get more.”

  “I can’t… I’ve got a specific amount to work with, no more.”

  “Three times my normal charge.”

  “Best I can do is two and half times,” Kenneth said.

  “Not good enough… besides, I can tell from your facial expression that you’re holding out on me.”

  Ugh, I have to do something about my crap poker face. “You’ve got a deal at three times your normal rate.”

  “See, wasn’t that easy?” Henry replied, back to a grin.

  “Why do you have to charge so much to do this anyway? It’s for a good cause.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it is, which is why I’ll do it in the first place. But my ship, my crew…we have expenses,” Henry said, again with a grin on his face.

  Kenneth shook his head in mock exasperation. “I’ll transfer half the funds when you pick up the cargo, half on successful delivery.”

  “Deal. Send me the coordinates and a time to pick up. See you soon, Kenny boy.”

  17

  David glanced at Calvin, both strapped into seats onboard what had just a few days previously been a TCMC assault shuttle. Now it was owned by the Little Sisters of Divine Recompense, and hurtling toward its target—a Monrovian concentration camp—on the lesser populated southern continent. They had pretty good intelligence from Monahan about its general layout, and the shuttles were prepped to destroy the guard towers before the landing commenced.

  “Can you believe we’re doing this, Colonel?” Calvin asked, a broad grin evident on his face.

  “Not really. Can’t say I got up a couple of days ago thinking I’d be running ground ops in civilian attire with a group of nuns.”

  Most of the nuns that shared the shuttle with them were quietly praying or reflecting.

  “You trying to say nuns can’t fight, Colonel Cohen?” Kaufman asked with a wicked grin on her face that was barely visible to David through her helmet’s visor.

  “Hey, I won’t lie. I never thought the words ‘fighting’ and ‘nun’ went in the same sentence. But you ladies have made me a believer.”

  “Good save, Colonel,” Kaufman said, still wearing a grin.

  “Fifteen seconds from touchdown!” the voice of the shuttle’s pilot called out, and the lights dimmed to red.

  “Semper Fi, do or die!” Calvin shouted. “Now let’s give these Monrovians some…” He stopped in mid-sentence, seemingly searching for a word that wasn’t profanity.

  “Let us stop them from doing evil, and then try to
save their souls,” Kaufman corrected.

  “Uh, yeah, that.”

  David just laughed. “Colonel Demood, you’re out of your element.” The craft’s forward movement came to a sudden stop, throwing everyone to the side before the telltale settling of the shuttle began, indicating it was about to land. A few seconds later, the back ramp began to drop, and the harnesses they were in automatically released.

  “Move out! Squad one, secure our LZ! Squad two, on me!” Kaufman bellowed.

  Kaufman was the first person out of the shuttle, but David and Calvin weren’t far behind. All told, there were twenty-five friendly combatants pouring out of that shuttle, and they did it like a well-oiled machine. Several rounds that appeared to be fired by enemy troops smacked the ground around David; none of the bullets connected. Quickly scanning the area, David saw row after row of barracks, surrounded by a wall with an electrically-charged fence on top. Guard towers had ringed the field, but they appeared to be smoking ruins now; the ones left intact were on fire. The nuns fanned out in a manner reminiscent of the best trained CDF Marines David had ever seen; the few Monrovian troops out in the open were quickly cut down by the sisters’ battle rifles firing stun rounds.

  As David began to get his bearings and decide on which building to toss a grenade into and storm first, a single, higher caliber shot rang out with a loud report. One of the nuns a few feet from David fell to the ground in a heap; a spurt of bright red from the center of her chest showed that she’d been shot with armor-piercing ammunition. A few seconds later, another nun fell in the same manner.

  “Sniper! Smoke! Smoke!” Kaufman shouted, pulling out a grenade off her armored suit and tossing it; it hit the ground and spun, and red smoke spewed out of it.

  David hurled a smoke grenade, alongside the other nuns. Within seconds, red clouds obstructed the entire battlefield.

  “Any idea where that came from, Demood?” Kaufman said over her commlink.

  “Yeah, Sister. My HUD got a location on the shooter. If you keep them occupied with suppressive fire, Cohen and I will circle around and flank them.”