by Daniel Gibbs
“I tried it the other way… didn’t work out so well,” David responded, forcing a smile. “Having emotions isn’t a weakness. While we’re on the subject, anyone who joins, picks up a weapon, and charges into combat to defend people she doesn’t even know just because it’s the right thing to do… that’s not weakness. That’s incredible strength of character that I’m honored to serve beside. You don’t even get paid to do it either.”
Simone showed just a hint of a smile, and David knew he had helped her, even if it was a small comfort.
“Would you like to pray with me, for the fallen?” David asked.
Simone nodded. “I’d like that, very much.”
“Why don’t you lead us? Unless you’d like me to recite the Jewish prayer for the dead.”
“Could we do both?”
“Of course.” David bowed his head. “God, filled with mercy, dwelling in the heavens heights, bring proper rest beneath the wings of Your Angels, amid the ranks of the holy and the pure, illuminating like the brilliance of the skies the souls of our beloved and our blameless who went to their eternal place of rest.”
Simone clutched her rosary beads. “O God, by whose mercy the souls of the faithful departed find rest, look kindly on your departed sisters who gave their lives in the service of what was right. Grant that through the passion, death, and resurrection of your Son they may share in the joy of Your heavenly kingdom and rejoice in You with Your saints forever. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.” She glanced at him with a forced smile. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, Sister. Now, let’s see if I can walk,” David said, forcing himself up off the ground. Slowly, he rose, and his legs felt like they would collapse out from under him at first. But then he took a few steps and gained confidence. Nearly every bone and muscle in his body hurt; to counteract that, he used the HUD of his suit to administer pain relief medication of a non-narcotic nature to his bloodstream. It only took a few moments to feel better.
“Are you able to go on?” Simone asked him.
David nodded. “I’m like a good watch. Take a licking and keep on ticking,” David replied, continuing to make light of the situation in hopes of boosting her spirits. “If Prime Minister Fitzroy wants to put me out of commission, she’ll need to come down here and do it herself. Now, what did you get out of the shuttle?”
Simone pointed a few feet away to a collection of gear stacked haphazardly. “Two battle rifles, three hundred rounds each, fragmentation, plasma and concussion grenades, emergency transmitter, emergency rations, and water pouches.”
“Not bad, Sister. I assume you’ve already tried a distress signal?”
“Yes. Of course, we’re being jammed, but I’m pretty sure they know we’re down here. I heard Colonel Amir and Colonel Demood talking about coming to get you. They couldn’t hear me, though.”
“Demood doesn’t leave people behind, like any good Marine.”
“Neither do we. The sisters will come for us; we have to let them know where we are.”
“That’s the spirit,” David said in encouragement. “Okay, let’s gear up and move out.” He picked up a battle rifle, slung it over his shoulder, and strapped up with ammunition, grenades, and supplies. Simone did the same, and a few minutes later, they were both ready.
Consulting an emergency GPS device that linked into the CDF stealth drones orbiting the planet, David determined the best direction to get out of the city. “We’ll proceed east until we’re out of the urban area and see if we can’t get a comms signal up.”
Simone nodded her understanding, and the two of them set out.
Quietly moving up streets that were quiet and eerily deserted, David took point, his battle rifle up and at the ready, finger on the trigger guard. His HUD flashed a warning that human life signs were detected ahead, and he gave the hand motion for “stop” before ducking behind a parked helicar.
Simone crouched behind the same vehicle and peered over the top of the hood. “Trouble?” she asked.
“Maybe. Can’t be too sure.”
A few minutes later, a patrol of six Monrovian National Guard soldiers walked out from a cross street, slowly making their way across the road David and Simone were on. Both of them were quiet as church mice as the enemy soldiers kept moving. After he was entirely sure they had moved on, and there was no danger, he stood quietly. “Okay, let’s keep going.”
The two of them pressed forward, taking cover behind helicars and trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. All of that was shattered in an instant when the door to a business they were passing by swung open, and two Monrovian soldiers strode out, nearly colliding with them. David sprang into action, bringing the butt of his rifle down on the head of one of the men, then turning in place and delivering a series of punches to the face of the second. Simone finished them off with point blank stun rounds to both men’s center mass.
David was about to congratulate her on quick thinking, when shouts rang out behind them, followed rapidly by bullets smacking into the wall over their heads. “Down!” he shouted, making himself as small as he could behind another helicar. The sound of bullets slamming into the helicar coupled with the report of enemy rifle fire was deafening. As soon as he detected the fusillade slow, he popped out of cover and opened up with his battle rifle in three round bursts, felling several attackers. Simone added her own fire and cut down a Monrovian soldier that was trying to flank them.
“I think there’s too many of them,” Simone said as she reloaded her weapon.
“Nah. These guys are weekend warriors. It’d take twenty of them to take us,” David replied with a cocky grin. The truth is, she’s right, but I need to keep her morale up.
Then the grenades started going off; fragmentation to the front of them, forcing both David and Simone to keep their heads down, followed by stun grenades landing behind the helicar. He tried to trigger his light filter in time to protect against the effect of the flashbang but was not successful. Holding his ears as his head throbbed, he became disoriented. He regained his sight to find three Monrovian soldiers directly in front of him.
While David had been invoking some false bravado, he was right about one thing—as professionals, David and Simone trained regularly. They lived it, day in and day out. The enemy they faced drilled one weekend a month. Before any of the soldiers in front of him could get off a shot, David put a three-round burst into the one on the left side; then his battle rifle clicked dry.
Both men that still stood fired on David with their battle rifles. They had standard-issue Monrovian weapons, and as such, they couldn’t penetrate the power armor suit he wore. What they could do, though, was make him feel like he’d been gut-punched by a two-hundred-kilo man with iron muscles. Staggering back, he braced himself and launched forward, colliding with the nearest soldier and pushing him to the ground. Pulling back his fist, he punched the unlucky man in the face and broke his nose, causing blood to spray out and temporarily stunning him.
Out of the corner of his eye, David saw Simone engaged in her own hand-to-hand combat. Point-blank rifle fire snapped him back to his problem as the remaining soldier had reloaded and fired thirty rounds on full auto into David’s chest. Screaming in pain, he doubled over. Damn, I think that busted a rib or two.
David realized as he gasped for air that the wind had been knocked out of him by the impact of the bullets into his armor. Stunned, he lay there as the soldier he faced dropped the spent magazine out of his rifle and slapped another in. The man stepped forward and aimed the gun at point-blank range at the faceplate of David’s helmet, its weakest point. There was a loud report of a battle rifle, and much to his surprise, bright red spots appeared in the man’s chest. A moment later, the enemy soldier crumpled to the side, dead.
Simone stepped into view above David, holding one of the enemy’s weapons; it dropped from her hands, and she collapsed on her knees. “Oh my God… I killed him.”
David was finally able to get his breath back as he grunt
ed while sitting up. “Simone, listen to me. It was him or us. You did the only thing you could.”
“I’ve never killed someone before, Colonel…” Simone’s hands and body shook out of control.
David reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Killing someone in war isn’t murder. Period. It’s been recognized throughout history that in a war, especially a just war, which this is by any possible definition, killing your enemy doesn’t condemn your soul.” He paused for a moment before continuing after she didn’t respond. “I’ll never forget the first time I took a life; it was on my first ship posting. It was either them or us. I chose us, and I’ll choose the men and women I fight with every time.”
“The reason I joined the order was so that I didn’t have to kill… that I could still do good without the death.”
David looked at her with sympathy in his eyes. “I get it, more than you can know, Sister. But right here, right now… we’re in a fight for our lives. We’ve got to press on, escape, and evade. Then and only then will you have time to process what happened. I’ll help you if you’d like. Now we keep fighting.”
Simone nodded her understanding, and both of them stood. David stumbled a bit, fighting to keep his feet stable beneath him. “I think I need to file a warranty claim with whoever made these suits,” he cracked.
“I take it you use humor to cope?”
“Perceptive,” David replied as he reloaded his battle rifle. “Yes, it’s how I deal with it now, at least until after the battle.”
They hadn’t gone more than twenty steps when shouts of “Stop!” and “Halt!” rang out from behind. Sliding into cover as quickly as possible, David picked off a couple of attackers with well-placed shots, leaving them twitching in the middle of the street.
“We need to break contact with these guys fast,” David said.
“Any thoughts on how to do that?”
“I’ll keep them occupied while you fade down the next side street, then blow up one of these helicars and use it as a distraction to follow.”
“I don’t like that plan. We have a better chance of survival if we stay together.”
“You got a better one? We don’t have endless supplies of ammo, and I’m not keen on going back to hand-to-hand combat again.”
Simone made a face inside of her helmet and shook her head. “Okay, but you’re right behind me?”
David nodded. “Absolutely.” He flashed her a smile. At the same time, he pulled a fragmentation grenade off his belt, yanked the pin out, and tossed it toward the advancing enemy soldiers. “Go!”
Simone didn’t need further encouragement; she sprang to her feet and ran as fast as possible while David laid down covering fire. The grenade exploded with a bang, fire and smoke filling the air. He kept up suppressive fire on three separate groups of enemies until his battle rifle clicked dry. Furiously swapping magazines, the opposing force took the opportunity to pour rounds into the helicar he was crouched behind. The vehicle’s hover exhaust fell off, so many bullets hit it. His suit took many additional rounds, but thanks to the velocity of the bullets slowing dramatically after going through the helicar, they had little effect.
As David popped his head up to continue the fight, he realized, with a sinking sensation in his gut, he was greatly outnumbered. No less than eight enemy soldiers were directly in front of him, weapons sighted down. In the split second in which he considered what to do, two more appeared on his right side. “Drop your weapon, terrorist!” one of them yelled.
David let the battle rifle fall onto the hood of the helicar; he took advantage of their limited training and his lightning-fast reflexes, which were enhanced by his power armor. He grabbed a plasma grenade off his belt, dislodging the pin at the same time. “Gentlemen, I would all take a step back if I were you,” he warned. “This will kill anyone within a ten-meter radius, and if any of you make a wrong move, I’ll drop it.” Unfortunately, it would kill me too, but they don’t need to know I’m worried about that.
“There’s no way out of here. Make it easier on yourself and surrender,” an older man who appeared to be in charge said as he stepped forward out of the line.
“Are you in charge?” David asked.
“Yes.”
“My name is David Cohen. Might have heard of me… I’m the commanding officer of the CSV Lion of Judah. I’m someone you will want to take alive,” David said, shaking the grenade in his hand. “I’m prepared to surrender, but I have terms.”
“You’re not in a position to dictate terms, Colonel Cohen. Reinforcements are on the way, and we have you at a complete disadvantage. Let’s find the pin to that grenade, and we all walk away,” the older man said. David found himself mildly impressed at his demeanor. At least one of them is a professional.
“The young woman with me… you allow her to escape. Those are my terms. Small price to pay to bring me in.”
“How am I supposed to do that? There are National Guard and police combing the streets looking for any survivors as we speak here.”
David shrugged. “Get on your commlink, tell them to let her go. Even better, get her a helicar so she can quickly cover ground.”
The man gaped at David like he had grown a second head. “That’s going to take a few minutes.”
David smiled and waved the grenade yet again. “I’ve got all the time in the world.” This is either going to work or be among the stupidest things I’ve ever done.
27
A few hours later, MacIntosh was jolted out of his sleep at 0300 CMT by his tablet making an awful racket. Grunting, he reached over and picked it up. The screen flashed red, displaying “Presidential Override Communication” in large text. A single button was visible under the text, marked “Accept Communication.” Opening and closing his eyes several times to try to wake up, he pressed his finger against the button, and a moment later, President Spencer appeared on the screen. It looked from the background like he was in his office back on Canaan.
“Andrew, sorry to wake you. We just received word that the Monrovians captured Colonel Cohen when they turned back a strike at several concentration camps.”
That got MacIntosh’s attention in an instant. He sat up straighter, his eyes opened wide, and his brain went into overdrive. “Do we know that for sure, Mister President?”
“Unless flash human cloning’s been perfected in the last week… it’s him. They’re parading him around on the holonets. The news broke less than fifteen minutes ago.”
MacIntosh’s head dropped forward. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“No blame being assigned, Andrew. We’re trying to figure out how it happened. Our intelligence suggested the battle was well in hand.”
“That was my understanding as well, sir. Our projections showed total victory within eight days for the sisters.”
There was a considerable amount of crosstalk that MacIntosh couldn’t make out between people standing to the side of the president’s desk. It took a few seconds for it to clear and Spencer to begin speaking again. “We’ve got some new information, Andrew. There are credible reports of League cargo ships landing on Monrovia.”
“That would explain a great deal, especially why they had success all of a sudden.”
“I need you to get down to Canaan and meet with the joint chiefs. I’ve given the intel community two hours to get to the ground truth of what’s going on out there. I’ll be looking for your input on how we clean up the mess.”
“Yes, sir,” MacIntosh replied. Damn you, Cohen. This has gotten outrageously complicated because you had to play the hero. “I’ll be on my way down in twenty minutes, sir.”
“Excellent. Godspeed, Andrew. Spencer out.”
MacIntosh set the tablet aside and swung out of bed. I’m just not as young as I used to be, he groused to himself, bones creaking as he stood and headed to the shower.
Hundreds of lightyears away on Monrovia, the mood in the sisters’ command tent was somber. The shuttles and fighters from the aborted strikes
had returned, and the order’s leadership, as well as Calvin, Hassan, and Tural, had gathered to discuss the events of the day. In the words of the Mother Superior, they would try to find a strategy that would allow them to press forward.
“We got our butts handed to us by these Monrovian assholes,” Calvin stated matter-of-factly.
“Language, Colonel Demood,” Sarno said harshly.
“Sorry, ma’am, would you like to beat my knuckles with a ruler and make me write on the board a hundred times I won’t do it again?” Calvin responded caustically.
“Colonel, such hostility does us no good,” Amir said. We need to stay focused and confident so that we might still win.
Sarno pointed at the updated battle board that showed new, far more lethal Monrovian units outfitted with the latest League technology. “Our enemy is now capable of fighting us on near equal terms. We need a different strategy,” she said, her voice carrying throughout the room. “I’m open to any logical ideas that do not compromise our principles and allow us to carry on to victory.”
Calvin cleared his throat. “I take it use of strategic weapons is out of the question?”
“Colonel, please. We need serious ideas.”
“I’m sorry, Mother Superior, but I’m sick of using the kid gloves on these guys. We could have struck a knockout blow before them getting supplies from the League.”
Amir put his hand on Calvin’s shoulder. “We’re all friends here. Let us focus on what we can do now, and not recriminations that only serve to divide us,” he said in his soothing baritone voice.
“The big advantage that the Monrovians currently have over us is their upgraded air support capability. They have thirty-four that we’ve seen anyway, sixth-generation space superiority fighters configured for atmospheric flight. We lost two pilots and fighters today, leaving us with ten birds ready for combat,” Arendse said, laying out the crux of the problem.
“Sister, we have ground-impact bombs and missiles with cluster munitions available, do we not?” Amir asked.
