Strong and Courageous

by Daniel Gibbs

  “Yes, Mother Superior,” Simone quickly said.

  “Crystal,” Calvin replied.

  “Sister Kaufman, do we have a timetable for our actions to commence?”

  “Yes, Mother Superior. Ground crews are servicing our fighters and shuttles as we speak. We’ll be ready to move in two hours.”

  “I haven’t given the order to go yet,” Sarno pointed out.

  “We didn’t want to waste time, assuming you approved the operation,” Kaufman answered with a small smile.

  She knows me too well. They all do. “Then in two hours, we begin our attack. I suggest we retire to the chapel and say one last mass before battle. The rest of you,” she said while glancing toward Calvin, Amir, and Tural, “may prepare as you see fit. Godspeed to you all.”

  After the meeting adjourned, Calvin made his way out of the tent and looked up at the sky. “I don’t know if You’re up there. If You are, we could use some help about now,” he said, speaking to no one around him. Lowering his head, he found Simone standing in front of him.

  “You’re not sure He exists, Colonel?” Simone asked.

  “I’m pretty sure there’s an intelligent entity that created the universe. Do I know if it cares about what happens in this universe… no,” Calvin replied. “The truth is half the time I’m a Christian in name only. But you know what? If there is God, He gave me a unique skill set. So let’s put it to good use and go shoot some assholes, get Colonel Cohen, and call it a day.”

  Simone chuckled and shook her head. “I should remind you of the rules against swearing and half a dozen other things. Truth is, though, I appreciate your rather simplistic outlook at times.”

  “You’d get along with my wife,” Calvin said while laughing himself.

  “Follow me. The infirmary recovery ward seems like a decent place to start our recruiting efforts.”

  Calvin fell in behind the young novice and followed her across the base to the hospital they had occupied. Numerous nuns acting as medics milled about what had been its admitting room, treating a couple hundred lightly injured patients. Some were nuns themselves; others were Monrovians rescued from the camps.

  “Excuse me,” Simone called out, but no one paid attention.

  Now, this is something I can fix. “Attention on deck!” Calvin roared.

  Practically everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and stared at him. Conversations ceased in an instant, and the area became whisper quiet. “Sister Darzi would like to speak with you,” Calvin said, gesturing to Simone. “Sister, you’re up.”

  Simone looked across the room, and Calvin saw her face tighten up. Own it, girl. “Sisters, survivors, friends. I come to you to ask you to join Colonel Demood and me on a rescue mission. Three members of our order and another CDF officer, Colonel David Cohen, are being held captive by the Monrovians. We believe they’re being tortured by League intelligence agents. Every combat-effective sister is tasked with assaulting the planet’s main government complex. While they end this war and topple the corrupt government, I need your help to save these four souls. Who will stand with me?”

  A few nuns that had bandages around wounds on their arms and legs stood and walked forward. Another sister with her right arm in a sling stood as well; at Calvin’s questioning look, she smiled back at him. “I’m just as accurate with a pistol as I am with a rifle.”

  Calvin couldn’t help but grin in return. We ought to recruit these ladies into the TCMC. With this kind of esprit de corps, they could take Earth itself.

  “Are there any more? We have four shuttles, and I need at least sixty volunteers to make the mission viable,” Simone asked.

  Several more nuns stood, as did a couple of civilians. Simone’s face clouded over, and she spoke again. “There is no greater love than for a man to lay down his life to save another,” she said, quoting the Bible. “We’ve all done that for each other, and some of us have done it for the people in this very room. Can you not find it within yourself to reach deep inside, and do the same to save four souls who will surely perish?”

  Calvin found himself thinking that the entire exercise was a waste of time until entire rows of nuns began to stand, some barely able to walk. He decided it was now time for his own unique brand of encouragement. “Now those are some great words, Sister, but I’m just a Marine. So if there’s anyone here, and yes, I’m talking to you in the back, anyone who knows how to fire a weapon and wants to put some hurt on the bastards that harmed you, your families, and your friends, get in line, because we’re about to deliver some pain on the League and its Monrovian puppets.”

  It’s just a question of proper motivation, Calvin thought to himself as some male civilians stood up and stepped forward. “I think we’ve got enough, Sister,” he said to Simone with a big grin on his face.

  “You… are a handful.”

  “Yeah, that sounds like my wife. Sure you didn’t get her commlink number or something?”

  Simone rolled her eyes at him, though with a smile. “Okay, everyone, follow me!” she shouted at those who had assembled. “Let’s get some gear and get in the air!”

  31

  Whipping through the atmosphere at nearly nine thousand kilometers an hour, Amir’s fighter rocked gently as he adjusted its course to make up for the crosswind that was pushing his craft to the right at one hundred kilometers an hour. The nimble fighter was weighed down with as many bombs and missiles as could be carried; the idea being they would launch a preemptive strike on the Monrovians’ new high-tech fighters then finish off whatever was in the air. If there were any stores left, well, then they’d be able to support the ground troops, but he doubted anything would be left except their wing-mounted energy weapons.

  “Credit for your thoughts, Colonel?” Arendse’s deep, accented voice asked on the private commander's commlink.

  “I find myself wishing we had CDF logistical support, Sister,” Amir said, grimacing involuntarily, even though she couldn’t see him.

  “I suppose, to you, our operations are haphazard.”

  “I wouldn’t characterize it that way, just you seem to patch holes up with space tape. We take craft out of service and put new parts in.”

  “We don’t have that luxury, I’m afraid. I wish we did, but we make do with what we’re lucky enough to get or have donated to us. We rebuild components over and over, rather than buy new. While most systems are component-driven and modules are considered throwaway, our monks perform board-level repairs on every piece of electronics we own. From the latest and greatest technology, all the way back to those assault landers that were fit to be retired twenty years ago that we fly around in,” Arendse said, her tone veering toward being defensive.

  “It‘s nice,” Amir conceded, “to have a massive logistical operation on every carrier that quickly turns around our fighters for another sortie. Do not think I’m not in awe of your ability to keep planes up, I lament that we’re going into battle down two birds, and with another three in various states of damage. There’s only ten of us up here and having anything that’s not optimum makes our job that much harder.”

  “If it were easy, everyone would do it. Honestly, Amir, it’s not the disrepair of our fighters that’s the hardest thing about this job. It’s how some of the other sisters look at us… at me.”

  “I don’t understand. How do they look at you differently?”

  “Because the pilots are the few among the order that, by simply going into battle, kill the enemy. There’s no technological cheat, no gimmick we can use. We all have very deeply held beliefs, and while I know that most don’t look down on us… some of my sisters pity us, which is even worse, at least for me.”

  Amir kept one eye on his bearing and altitude, which showed they were still a few minutes out from the target. “I wouldn’t have thought of it that way,” he said. “I find the abilities and courage of you and your fellow pilots to be exemplary, if that counts for anything.”

  “To hear that from an accomplished pil
ot and warrior like you, Colonel, it does.”

  “I, too, struggle with the things we must do in service of our cause and country. There is a near constant battle within; Muslims call this the greater Jihad. Our first focus must be to strive for the path that God has set out before us.”

  “I thought Jihad was a war against unbelievers?”

  “It was in the past in both mainstream and fringe groups. After the Exodus, all religions underwent some amount of reformations, mine included. What we now call the lesser Jihad is the one you speak of, though it is only defensive in nature, and we seek to gain new converts only through the tongue and the pen.”

  “Are you going to try to convert me, Colonel?” Arendse said with a small laugh.

  “Given the level of commitment shown to your faith, I wouldn’t think of it. I am also proud to say that I greatly respect the people of the book, both Christian and Jew. I mean, my best friend is an Orthodox Jew.”

  “I read in the history books that Muslims and Jews used to fight each other constantly, as did Christians. The idea that we once killed one another in large quantities seems so… hard to believe.”

  “As bad as the World Society and the League of Sol is now, it did something vitally important. It forced us to confront the fact that despite our differences, we’re all very much alike. Everyone is a child of Allah, and now we exist under the bonds of kinship and brotherhood.”

  “Silver linings, eh?”

  “Always,” Amir replied. “If I weren’t looking for silver linings, I wouldn’t survive my time in this universe. I must trust that Allah puts me in the right situations to make a difference.”

  “Same here, Colonel. What’s our plan again?”

  “Sneak in at low altitude, drop our smart bombs on the parked fighters, take out anything that moves in the air, and as Colonel Demood would say, kick the enemy’s butt and get home in time for dinner.”

  Arendse laughed hard across the commlink. “The three of you are quite the pairing.”

  “In the few months we’ve been serving together, I see the lot of us as providing some balance. Colonel Cohen especially can keep things on an even keel. It is such a pleasure to serve with him again.”

  “You knew him before the Lion of Judah?”

  “He was the XO of a carrier I was assigned to as a squadron commander. I ended up as the XO for the wing on that ship. My first true command.”

  “Good memories?”

  “Take out the war… yes. Some of the best years of my service,” Amir replied, wistfully thinking back. “Okay, it’s time to slow our approach, so we blend in with the other air traffic around this military base.”

  “Roger that.”

  Amir switched his communication channel to the pre-set for the squadron. “Christus flight, slow to 1500 kilometers per hour and follow me down to fifty meters off the deck.”

  “Acknowledged, flight lead,” one of the pilots responded; Amir hadn’t been flying with them long enough to recognize everyone’s voice automatically as he did back on the Lion of Judah.

  As he guided his fighter down, the rush was incredible as the nimble craft zoomed over the landscape so low that he could make out people on the ground and small details. They passed over an outdoor gathering that left shocked attendees pointing at the sky in amazement. Amir watched the LIDAR display, continuing to pray that whatever early warning capabilities the Monrovians had, they wouldn’t see the sisters and him coming until it was far too late.

  “Switch to ground attack focus,” Amir called out into the comm. “Pre-load bomb impact location targets provided in pre-flight and stand by to release ordinance.”

  Amir started the mission clock at ninety seconds, trying not to stare as it counted down. His eyes split between the LIDAR display and looking forward out of the cockpit while performing visual sweeps every few seconds to ensure proper situational awareness. At a little under sixty seconds to target, the LIDAR screen began to show a tightly grouped set of four contacts; the system quickly classified them as military craft.

  “Sister Arendse, do you see a group of four fighters at our one o’clock on your LIDAR?”

  “I do, Colonel. The bearing and speed look like alert fighters just launching from the airbase we’re on the way to hit.”

  “I was afraid of that,” Amir replied, beginning to run tactical possibilities through his brain. “We’ll stay low and slow, and see what they do,” he said after deciding on a course of action. “We might get lucky and get in a first strike.” If we don’t get an effective bombing run in, Allah protect us because we’ll be overwhelmed.

  For a few moments, Amir began to believe they’d get that critical first hit in before the master alarm sounded. The HUD overlaid on his helmet immediately showed the threat— many ground-launched surface-to-air missiles—zooming toward him and the rest of the sisters’ fighter force.

  “Christus flight, break and deploy countermeasures,” Amir said calmly into the commlink.

  “Should we drop our bombs?” Arendse asked hesitantly.

  “Not yet,” Amir responded on the private channel. “While we will be sluggish with so many munitions slapped onto our fighters, we still need to make that strike. Break right with me and climb. Deploy chaff!”

  Taking his own advice, Amir triggered the chaff launcher and pulled back hard on the flight stick, at the same time mentally commanding his fighter to increase thrust to the maximum. Slammed back into the flight couch, he came close to blacking out as his craft pulled 16-Gs in an attempt to avoid the enemy missiles and remain able to fight.

  Half a continent away, Calvin looked over at Simone, who sat in the jump seat of the first assault shuttle heading toward the black site that they believed held David and the other prisoners. “First time up front, Sister?” He was seated in the co-pilot’s seat.

  “Yes, Colonel. I’ve only flown in these in the back.”

  “You know, you don’t serve under me, so you can call me Calvin. My friends call me Cal for short, if you’d prefer.”

  Simone smiled. “Thank you, Cal,” she said, testing out the nickname.

  “See, not that hard.”

  “Assault Shuttles two and three breaking formation to engage guard towers and marked targets,” the nun piloting the shuttle announced.

  “Now it gets real.” Calvin pulled up the tactical overlay on the cockpit screen. They both watched it intently as multiple targets that had been predesignated blinked out, indicating hard kills. “That should even up the odds a bit.”

  “It’s still going to be challenging to take the facility. Especially with our diminished force.”

  “Getting cold feet?”

  “No, Cal. I’m just turning into a bit of a realist.”

  “Well, maybe right makes might instead of the other way around.”

  “That would be nice,” Simone said with a trace of a smile.

  “We’re agreed the gloves are off for this mission, right?”

  Simone nodded with a sideways look. “Yes.”

  “No backing out, Sister. We go in hard—no stun rounds. The people here don’t deserve mercy, and we don’t have time to be nice. Our only advantage is the element of surprise, and we’ve got to punch them in the face, to begin with… then never take our foot off their collective throats.”

  “Are you always this cold toward the enemy?”

  Calvin turned away from the tactical overlay to look her in the eye. “Always. I’m not here to ruminate on the rights and wrongs of conflict. I’ve got a job, and that job is to put down the enemy before they kill me, and more importantly, my friends and fellow soldiers.”

  Simone was silent as the shuttle loitered just outside of weapons range, waiting for its consorts to finish off the fixed defenses they had marked from drone overflights. The pilot looked over at both of them. “Sister Darzi, shuttles two and three are reporting all targets down. We’re ready to land.”

  “You ready, Sister?” Calvin asked, all business.

 
“If I was completely truthful? No. But sometimes you have to force yourself to go.”

  “That’s the spirit; let’s get in there and get our people.”

  Simone cued the commlink to the group of shuttles. “This is Sister Darzi. Commence landing and attack all enemy forces! Push into the facility as quickly as possible; remember not to get bogged down in clearing each room, but bottle up enemy forces and press on. Our objective is the sub-basement levels where they hold political and military prisoners. May God go with us!”

  “Brace yourselves,” the pilot said, directing her comment mostly at Simone, who was in the jump seat and not fully strapped in.

  “Hoorah, Sister!” Calvin said.

  From his vantage point in the cockpit, Calvin watched as he had through countless combat insertions throughout his career as the shuttle quickly accelerated to provide as small a window for targeting by enemy anti-air weapons as possible, then hovered and dropped out of the sky with a bone-jarring thud.

  “Let’s go! Let’s go!” Calvin shouted, jumping out of the seat and storming through the hatch to the cargo area where the rest of the volunteers were strapped in. The restraints snapped up as he stepped through, with Simone close on his heels.

  “I’m not used to doing things like this,” Calvin began. “We’ve got a motley crew here made up of nuns, former military from this planet, and civilians who I normally wouldn’t give a second look. But today is a day we do things differently. We’re going into this facility, we’re rescuing our friends, we’re putting the hurt on the Leaguer bastards that have tortured and hurt them, and then we’re going home. You with me?”

  The nuns and volunteers roared their agreement, causing Calvin to smile. “Now that almost sounds like my beloved Terran Coalition Marine Corps. They say being attacked by the TCMC is like being hit by the wrath of God. Let’s show these Leaguer bastards what that looks like! Move out! Let’s go!” he shouted, voice rasping like an old-school drill instructor.