Strong and Courageous

by Daniel Gibbs

  This lack of intelligence was going to keep biting them in the rear, just like Mother Superior said. It was a small miracle from on high that they didn’t lose half their air cover today. Let’s see if I can call in a favor and even up those odds just a hair. He punched up the fleet vidlink, engaging a secure connection and typing in “Robert Sinclair.” As he’d hoped, it showed Sinclair as active.

  David pressed the button to connect.

  He kicked off his shoes as he waited for the connection to establish and was rewarded a short time later with the smiling face of Colonel Sinclair.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t the man on extended leave himself.”

  “Is that fleet-wide news?”

  “Colonel… I’m in intelligence.”

  “I always thought CDF Intelligence was an oxymoron,” David said with a smirk.

  “Hah. We’ve got brilliant computers.”

  David snickered in response. “Superior information…superior results. I seem to recall reading that somewhere.”

  “Sounds about right. How’s it going on Monrovia? I saw a news report about mass graves.”

  “Pretty bad. We liberated a camp today, but we were too late to save them all. Based on ground-penetrating scans of the area, they're at least fifteen thousand people buried at that camp. Maybe more.”

  Sinclair pursed his lips together. “Damn. You know if we ever get to League space and investigate the resocialization camps there, it’s probably a lot worse.”

  “That thought crossed my mind. But I came face to face with the reality of what mass murder looks like today. It’s not pretty.”

  “I’m guessing you have an ask since comm credits are pretty steep, and you’re using those nuns’ dime from the looks of the call request I got.”

  “Well… the sisters have great training, pretty decent equipment, and no lack of good leadership and esprit de corps. They lack in broad-spectrum intel gathering ability. There’s little in the way of common operating picture, and we got caught with our pants down today. Monrovians sortied in bombers, then tried to mousetrap our small fighter wing. They didn’t succeed, but some of the planes were damaged, and the pilots are rattled. We need some stealth drones that can be interfaced into the battle operations manager they’re using. Almost all their gear is CDF, so I figure that won’t be too difficult.”

  “Is this a joke?” Sinclair asked, his mouth agape.

  “No. No joke, Colonel.”

  “Cohen… I want to help you, mate,” Sinclair said in his baritone English accent. “But you’re asking me to commit an offense that could easily end in a court-martial for me.”

  “I already committed one by going AWOL,” David said, invoking the acronym for absent without leave. “I get it’s a huge ask. But put all the blame on me… say I ordered you to put a couple of drones around the planet for intelligence-gathering purposes. You haven’t received official notification I’m on leave, have you?”

  “Well, no. But it’s well known inside the intel community on the Oxford.”

  Sensing Sinclair’s continued hesitation, David pressed on. “Look, those drones will help us even up the odds. We’ll know when hostile air is inbound and be able to vector our guys into the right place to make a difference. Operations tempo is stepping up, and I want to limit casualties among friendly forces to as little as humanly possible.”

  “I suppose I could say that you redirected the drones after they got on station with your command codes if it ever came down to it.”

  David smiled. “Do remember our embedded reporter is going to make it very difficult to say anything bad about this op. If nothing else, public opinion will be squarely in our favor.”

  “JAG could care less about public opinion, Colonel,” Sinclair said, his voice tight. “I’ll help you, but not because of anything except this… I’m sure it’s the right thing to do. I’d rather do what I know is right than live with knowing I could’ve made a difference for the rest of my life.”

  “Thank you, Sinclair,” David inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

  “You give those bastards hell, you hear me, Cohen?”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way. These guys don’t have a chance. They’ve got seventy-five hundred nuns coming for them.”

  Sinclair laughed out loud. “I wish I could be there to see that. I’ll burst transmit the drone’s location and control frequency along with standard authorization instructions. Godspeed.”

  “We’ll make it count. Godspeed, Colonel. Cohen out.”

  David set the tablet aside as the screen blinked out. God, please let it be enough. Please help us all. Stripping off his shirt, he was determined to sleep as well as he could to get up refreshed and attack another day.

  20

  David rose a few hours after he had gone to bed, waking up as the sun came up. His internal clock was messed up, being set to CMT, which was the timekeeping system on all CDF ships. Adjusting to a planet’s time was always tricky, especially after so much of his life was spent on starships. He worked through his morning ritual, did a three-mile jog around the base, had a quick breakfast of prepared rations that were kosher, and took a short, two-minute space shower, even though he was firmly on the ground.

  After pausing to conduct his morning prayers in private, David reported to the assault shuttle assigned to him for the next phase of their attack plans. As he walked into the back of it, battle rifle slung over his shoulder, Calvin called out to him, “Be still my beating heart! The great Colonel Cohen got here after I did!”

  David chuckled, as did most of the nuns. “Colonel Demood, that may be the first time that’s ever happened.”

  “Do you guys need a room?” Kaufman said from the cockpit of the shuttle to sustained laughter from everyone else, including Calvin and David.

  “No, ma’am, just some targets to shoot.”

  Still snickering to himself, David locked his battle rifle into a holder and strapped himself into the last open seat on the shuttle. With his armor, extra magazines, sidearm, and extra gear, it was a tight fit. Glancing to the right at the occupied harness next to him, he took note of a young woman who appeared to be sweating profusely.

  “First time?” David asked, flashing a smile.

  She glanced at him. “Yes. I’ve done training insertions many times, but this is my first actual combat drop.”

  David extended his hand toward her. “Colonel David Cohen, Coalition Defense Force.”

  “Novice Simone Darzi,” she said, taking David’s hand and shaking it with a firmness that surprised him.

  “Darzi… that’s Persian, isn’t it?” David asked.

  “Yes, it is,” Simone replied, forcing a small smile. “My family traces back hundreds of years, all the way back to a country called Iran back on Earth.”

  “I seem to recall that from school, but that was so long ago.” David suddenly felt old. “Not too many Christians hail from Persia.”

  “There’s less than a hundred thousand Catholics in the Kingdom of Persia, mostly on the habitable moon orbiting our primary planet.”

  “How’d you end up in the Little Sisters of Divine Recompense?” David asked. The varied stories of the nuns had begun to really interest him. Each had a different reason, and all seemed to be entirely personal.

  “After I finished my stint in the CDF, I was looking for direction in life.” Simone shrugged her shoulders. “I read a story on the holonet about the sisters. I knew as soon as I read it, that’s what God wanted me to do with my life. Two years later… here I am. What about you?”

  David tried to formulate an answer in his mind as the rear door to the shuttle closed. “During my hitch in the CDF, I had some trouble with direction too. I thought I wanted to be a rabbi. Instead, I ended up being a soldier. It’s apparently what’s in my blood. My father was a soldier, his father before him. I’m not doing God’s work in the way I had intended, but maybe I’m still doing it some way.”

  “I have a hard time believing that God
’s work involves fighting and killing.”

  “You’re not alone in that, Sister. But what can we do? The League’s not going away. We fight or we die. Maybe we die even if we fight. I’d still rather go out on my feet.”

  “All right, listen up!” Kaufman cut in with a loud voice, silencing all chit-chat in the shuttle. “We’re eight mikes out from the LZ. We have three other platoons supporting us for a fast-rope insertion to the top of this so-called high-value target area. Our objective is simple; clear the LZ, sweep the building, rescue the people being detained, disrupt Monrovian operations, and get out clean. Use of lethal force is not authorized unless there is no other choice for survival. Are we clear on that, Colonels?” Kaufman’s gaze flipped between David and Calvin as she made her last point.

  David’s voice was loud and clear. “Yes, ma’am!”

  “Crystal, ma’am,” Calvin said, decidedly less enthusiastically.

  “Good. Ladies and gentlemen, watch yourselves down there. We’re going into the teeth of the Monrovian special police. Watch each other’s backs, remember your training, and God will see us through,” Kaufman finished.

  David sat back in his harness and closed his eyes, praying silently. Lord, God of the universe, hear my prayer. If it is Your will, protect the lives of those I go into battle with, and allow them to return safely home to their families, and if it is Your will, please help to rescue the innocent victims of this planet’s regime.

  David opened his eyes and glanced around; nearly every nun’s head was bowed in prayer, most holding rosary beads. The final minutes before combat always seemed to stretch into eternity for him; there was a part of him that just wanted to get on with it already. A few minutes later, he got his wish when the shuttle began to slow dramatically.

  Kaufman’s restraints snapped away from her, and she stood quickly. “Stand by for ramp open!”

  Right on cue, the shuttle hovered, and the ramp opened up as their harnesses automatically disengaged. With smooth efficiency that showed professionalism and highly skilled training, the nuns stood, engaged their armor suits to the lines that dropped out of the ceiling of the shuttle, and tossed them out the back. Four at a time, they jumped out of the shuttle, sliding down the ropes onto the roof of the Monrovian government building. Kaufman was one of the first out while David, Calvin, and Simone were in the last group.

  David slung his battle rifle over his shoulder and snapped a carbineer into the rope line. Stepping back off the shuttle, he used his gloved hands to control the rate of descent. While the activity wasn’t one he regularly did, he’d done it enough to be able to execute without showing fear or freezing up. Unstrapping himself from the shuttle’s rope line, he turned forward to see Calvin staring at him.

  “Well I’ll be; you look like you’ve done that before, Colonel.”

  David snickered. “Basic, a couple of times over the years, and right now.”

  “Sometimes it’s better to be lucky than good anyway.”

  “Amen to that, Cal.” David unslung his battle rifle and stepped forward. The rest of the nuns did the same; some set up what looked like a man-portable air defense missile launcher, two more took an overwatch position, one with a sniper rifle, and the other served as a spotter for her.

  “Cohen, take Squad B. Your objective is the first floor; prevent reinforcements from gaining entrance. Demood, you’re with me and Squad A,” Kaufman said on the comm link that connected the platoon. “Maintain stealth as long as possible. We’ve been able to loop the video surveillance system, but I don’t know how long it’ll last.”

  “Understood, Sister. Squad, on me.” Five nuns, which included Simone, formed behind David. They walked up to the door that led from the roof into the interior of the building, and he fitted a strip of thermite to it. He stepped back and triggered the device. It burned through the door in a matter of seconds, and the sisters with him lifted the door out of the way and quietly set it down on the roof.

  David took point, switching on the laser sight on his battle rifle. After two floors, Kaufman’s squad peeled off and he flashed her a thumbs-up. Continuing down the stairwell, they quietly descended to the ground level. Thanking God that most office workers were too lazy to take the stairs, he opened the door to the ground floor, and the rest of the nuns quickly filed through it. Stepping out into the corridor, a trio of civilians greeted them.

  They screamed at the sight of David and the rest of the squad, before running away in the opposite direction.

  “So much for stealth,” David said dryly into the comm. “Sister Kaufman, be advised we have encountered civilians, and our position is compromised. Going loud!” He stepped forward and motioned for the nuns to form on him. “Press forward. We take the lobby at all costs.”

  Not more than twelve steps down the corridor and a security guard appeared. David put a three-round burst of stun rounds into him immediately, and the man collapsed into a heap. Pausing long enough to grab the man’s sidearm, he quickened his steps, and they quickly reached the end of the corridor; a sign indicated that the building entrance was to the right.

  David dropped his battle rifle in its sling and pulled a small handheld periscope for seeing around corners out of his pocket; he peered through the device to see four armed guards milling about, clearly agitated, with another on an active commlink. Stuffing it back into his pocket, he turned around to the nuns.

  “Okay, we’ve got five hostiles. I’m going to toss a concussion grenade in, then we storm the room. Keep your shots tight and watch your flanks. Clear?” David said in a near whisper. Receiving nods in acknowledgment, he pulled a concussion grenade off his belt, pulled the pin, and threw it down the corridor.

  Three seconds later, there was a deafening boom and a flash of white light from the lobby. David and the rest of the nuns charged around the corner, firing as they ran. Guards dropped right and left, stunned and twitching on the floor in pain. He finished off the final guard with a three-round burst into his center mass; none of them were even able to draw a weapon. Surveying the lobby, which surprisingly had little battle damage, he nodded in satisfaction. “Very nice work. Now we’re in for a treat.”

  “Treat, sir?” Simone asked.

  “Yeah, now we get to hold the front door against whatever the enemy throws at us, which will be every police officer, soldier, and government agent in the city. Take up defensive positions. Overlapping fields of fire. I’ll set the claymores.”

  “Yes, sir!” one of the nuns said, and the rest busied themselves setting up; several had bipods for their weapons and configured them for prone firing positions.

  David set down the small backpack he was carrying; inside of it were some nifty explosive devices that the nuns had designed themselves. The most interesting to him was the modified claymore mines. For six hundred years, human militaries had made use of the claymore; its ability to defend an area from massed infantry attack was exceptional. The nuns, in keeping with their mission not to harm human life, had taken the tried and true area denial weapon and made a non-lethal version. Instead of sending what amounted to a giant shotgun blast of lead balls in a cone out in front of the mine, shredding every target in sight, this claymore instead sent stun rounds flying out. He doubted it would be quite as useful, but as long as the enemy wasn’t wearing power armor, it would even the odds.

  David arranged the claymores in a zig-zag pattern, twelve of them in all, and linked them to his tablet in two sets of six. I’ll have to time it just right, but if I do, these things will bloody the Monrovians’ noses. Civilians watched him on the street with curiosity, and he could see some of them were placing holocalls and excitedly pointing. Time to wrap this up. He picked up the backpack and walked back inside of the building to find that the nuns had dug in about as well as he could have expected. “Sister, let’s get the automatic turrets set up.”

  Simone dropped the pack she was wearing and pulled out two miniature pulse turrets. Again, the sisters’ ingenuity was on full display. T
hey had taken standard-issue CDF particle beam auto-turrets and miniaturized them while reducing the power of the particle beam to a level that would leave a third-degree burn on its target but not kill. He understood that they had explicitly coded the targeting AI as to not fire on the human face. With David’s assistance, both turrets were set up in short order in spots he hoped were unobtrusive.

  “Status?” Kaufman asked over the commlink.

  “Buttoned up tight, Sister,” David said. “I’ve got interlocking claymores set. We’re dug in, and ready to receive visitors.”

  “Okay, we’ve freed some of the detainees, but there’s a lot more. Resistance is a bit tougher than we expected, but the second and third platoon are assisting us in clearing the building. I need you to hold the line down there, Colonel.”

  “We’ll give ‘em all they can handle and then some, Sister. Cohen out.”

  David clicked the commlink off as the first wave of police helicars zoomed up to the front of the building. Officers climbed out quickly, all drawing sidearms and aiming down iron sights at the building. He doubted they could see anything, but training was training. “Come out with your hands up! We have this building surrounded!” a deep male voice boomed from a loudspeaker on one of the helicars.

  “I think not,” David said to the room at large; several nuns chuckled in return. He looked over at Simone, who had assumed a braced shooting position behind the reception desk. “How are you holding up?”

  Simone glanced at him and flashed a nervous smile. “So far, so good, but my heart’s racing.”