Chapter 52: The price of a good action

Four years ago, on a hill.

“We’ve secured the position.” The warrant officer Crowsclaws announces in the walkie-talkie.

I exit the tent with three sergeants. The 2^nd lieutenant Kalakuna gets out of the passenger seat of a jeep.

The sun is blazing in this arid region and I put my sunglasses on.

Under the hill, at 12 o’clock, lies Gwadar, a small port town on the western border of our Indian colony, that has been the stage of an 8-hour-long siege because of a small terrorist group that took it hostage.

“Did they find the perpetrators?” I ask.

“Affirmative,” the 2^nd lieutenant responds, “as suspected by our agents, the group was mainly made up of mercenaries from the Umayyad caliphate that has a claim on the region.”

“What a pointless attempt.” I sigh. The caliphate has been repelled by the British army a few times in this region. Now they try to find ways to offend us without inducing a casus belli. “Are there big damages in the city?”

“Negative, the fight was very short and most of it happened in the bastion.”

Of course, a normal port town wouldn’t force us to lay a siege that long, if there wasn’t a stone bastion from the Middle Ages, that the mercenaries had taken refuge in.

“Good, the fact that it happened on a market day was unfortunate for them.”

The 2^nd Lieutenant keeps the door open for me, so I get in the jeep. He then walks all the way to the driving seat and opens the door and stares at the driver, silently. The driver, a sergeant, looks at him confused.

“Thanks, Sergeant, but you can let the 2^nd lieutenant drive.” I shrug.

The sergeant executes and leaves his seat, so the 2^nd lieutenant takes his place and drives us down the hill.

As I mentioned, this is an important day for this port town, since even though fewer than 10,000 people live there, the trade is intense and an important seasonal market takes place each year. Counting the tourists and those who come to do business, the number of people in the city is almost doubled compared to the rest of the year. The caliphate definitely didn’t choose this day for no reason…

The medieval bastion isn’t big but it is very well maintained and there are few things stronger than a fortress that passed the test of time.

“How many men did we lose?” I ask when we reach it.

“Only one, but we have 2 in critical states.”

“Get them to the base ASAP.”

We walk out of the jeep and enter the bastion that’s guarded by a few soldiers, while the 2^nd lieutenant repeats my order in his walkie-talkie.

The warrant officer Crowsclaws meets with us near the entrance.

“Major.” He salutes.

“Warrant Officer.” I salute back. “So, what took you so long?”

The warrant officer guides us inside. “They were better equipped than we expected. They also had a bunch of little demons inside.”

“Little demons?” I frown.

“Yeah, child soldiers. Trained slaves they bought from the Mamluks.”

“Did you kill them?”

“No other choice, they were literally possessed. Berserkers. Impossible to knock them down without killing them with our equipment.”

The 2^nd lieutenant sighs. “If only I was there.”

“No, it’s a good thing you weren’t there, 2^nd Lieutenant. We can’t let the Caliphate see your chemicals or they’ll denounce us.” I respond.

“Can’t we just denounce them for using child soldiers?” The warrant officer argues.

“We’ll eventually do it, but we need absolute proof that these mercenaries were engaged by the Caliphate. So how did the fight go?”

“As you can see, we pushed them to the dungeon. Then after arresting them and securing the perimeter, we locked them in the bastion’s jails downstairs.” The warrant officer explains as we walk down.

“Major!” A bunch of Privates salute and I nod.

“Good job, soldiers.”

Among them, stands the 1^st lieutenant Heron.

“Major,” he shows me the jail, “here they are.”

Three groups of three mercenaries are handcuffed and blindfolded inside three separate jails.

“Did you search them?” I ask.

“Yes, but not thoroughly yet. We’ve been busy with someone else.”

“Someone else?” I repeat.

The 1^st lieutenant guides me to a fourth jail where a last man who isn’t dressed anything like a mercenary or a soldier is not only handcuffed and blindfolded but also muzzled.

“Who is this?” I take off my sunglasses.

“A slave trader from the Mamluks. Apparently, they had an important business here with the mercenary before the siege started. We kind of interrupted it.” He shrugs.

I open the jail and unmuzzle him.

“LET ME GO! LET ME GO! I’M NOT ONE OF THEM!” He starts yelling in broken English soon after.

“This is why we gagged him.” Laughs the 1^st lieutenant.

“Who are you?” I ask him.

“I’M A DIPLOMAT AND A SIMPLE MERCHANT, YOU HAVE TO LET ME GO!”

“He thinks we must listen to his orders!” The 1^st lieutenant exclaims.

“No, he’s right.” I interrupt him. “We have to let him go. Keeping another country’s civilian imprisoned is against the international law. Where are your papers?”

“In my right pocket.” He calms down.

I put a hand inside his pocket and feel a bunch of papers. I take them out and start skimming through them.

“He’s indeed in good standing.”

“How is slave trading OK, though?!” The 1^st lieutenant shouts.

“THERE IS NOTHING THAT PROVES I WAS SELLING SLAVES!” He yells again. “THEY KEEP SAYING THIS BUT IT’S NOT TRUE!”

“So, what are you selling?”

He becomes silent. “These children are educated to become butlers. What happened to them afterward is not something in our control.” He admits after a bit.

“HE TAKES US FOR IDIOTS!!” The 1^st lieutenant screams. “BUTLERS?! I’VE NEVER FOUGHT BUTLERS THAT STRONG!”

“Calm down, 1^st Lieutenant. We can’t do much about this.”

“Major!”

I stand up and give the papers to the 2^nd lieutenant. “Where are the children’s bodies?”

“They’ve been gathered in a room upstairs. They have very different ethnicities, so we plan to do DNA analysis and try to find which places they’re from. It might help with fighting against the network.” The warrant officer responds.

“No need to. Just cremate them.” I order.

“Major!” The 1^st lieutenant shouts again. “What are you saying?!”

“1^st Lieutenant, we’re not here to play heroes. We have more important missions than to do side quests like dismantling a slave network. Read the papers, they have backups for everything you’ll come up with. It’s not our role to do this and I won’t allow wasting time and money for something so pointless. Free him.”

Two Privates walk inside the jail and liberate the trader, then escort him upstairs.

Suddenly, the rumble of rifle fire resonates in the bastion.

The two lieutenants and I rush upstairs. We find the privates killed and the trader nowhere to be found.

“What the hell happened? The guy wasn’t armed!”

The Privates have visibly been killed using a rifle.

“Why did nobody else react? Where are the other soldiers?” I ask.

“The biggest unit is searching the market to find missing mercenaries. There should be soldiers guarding the entrance and others on the 1^st floor.” The 2^nd lieutenant explains.

But these soldiers are missing.

“Quick, 2^nd Lieutenant, inform the unit and send backup! 1^st Lieutenant, come with me!”

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We rush outside the bastion. The soldiers guarding it are lying on the floor with blood splattered around their bodies.

“Who the hell did that?” The 1^st lieutenant laughs hysterically.

“The jeep is gone!” I exclaim, stomping the ground.

“Major! 1^st Lieutenant!” The warrant officer runs towards us, limping, a huge wound across his face.

“Warrant Officer, what happened to you?” I catch him up.

“One of the kids…” He articulates. “Wasn’t dead…”

“How can one kid do this! Y’all are trained for fuck’s sake!” Screams the 1^st lieutenant.

I lay the warrant officer on the ground. “Don’t worry, backup is coming. 1^st Lieutenant, give me your scarf!”

I take the 1^st lieutenant’s scarf and cover the warrant officer’s face to stop the bleeding.

The 2^nd lieutenant follows out of the bastion and announces: “The unit at the market has caught up with the trader at the market, but he was fleeing on the jeep alone. Reinforcements are coming from the hill.”

Indeed, a few minutes later, four jeeps equipped with machine guns, with five men in each, drive down the hill and stop in front of the bastion.

“2^nd Lieutenant, stay here and guard the bastion with three men. Go upstairs and make sure every single child is dead. We’ll find the one who did that.”

We drive downtown which causes a big commotion, and reach the marketplace in less than five minutes.

The streets are buzzing with activity, and between the dozens of stands that sell not only food, especially fish, but all kinds of goods, the unit that found the jeep awaits us.

We stop the jeeps in the middle of the road and walk out.

“Major. 1^st Lieutenant.” The sergeant major in charge and his privates salute.

I walk around the stolen jeep and find the trader on his knees, handcuffed, blindfolded and muffled once again.

I take off his gag. “We meet again, sir.”

“I didn’t ask! I didn’t ask her anything!” He weeps.

“What didn’t you ask? Whom?”

“Bashmu! Bashmu!” He repeats uproariously.

I put his gag back on his mouth and stand up. “We can’t let him go now; we need to find the last kid. Who found the jeep?”

“I did.” Responds a female specialist.

“Was he alone when you found it, Specialist…?”

“Robin.” She smiles. “Affirmative, he was alone.”

“Alright. Let’s not make small groups, this kid is armed and dangerous. Let’s split in groups of six and—”

“Wahid! Wahid!”

I suddenly get interrupted by four men dressed as Mamluks, who walk out of the crowd, holding camels by the reins, and calling the man we arrested.

The soldiers stop them from approaching further.

“Who are you people?” The 1^st lieutenant asks them.

They don’t respond but keep shouting the trader’s name. One of them walks out with his hands in the air. He exclaims: “We’re simple traders from the Mamluk Sultanate, we are in good standing and arresting one of our people is a crime against our country.”

“What are you selling?!” The 1^st lieutenant screams. “Say it!”

Then a single shot resonates and the 1^st lieutenant falls on the ground.

We all look around on alert. The 1^st lieutenant has been shot in the head with a precision rifle.

“It’s Bashmu! It’s Bashmu!” The traders cry.

“Shot came from 4 o’clock! Hide behind the jeeps!” I shout and every soldier executes while the Mamluks weep. “Who is this Bashmu you cry about?!” I shout. “Do something about it!”

“We’ll do if you buy her!” Shouts the man with raised arms; he’s the only one who isn’t weeping.

“What the fuck are you smoking!” Screams the Specialist. “We’ll blow you up!”

“No, we can’t do that. We can’t risk a diplomatic incident now. We can’t give the Mamluks a reason to help the Umayyad officially.” I grimace.

“They killed the 1^st lieutenant! And a bunch of other soldiers!” The privates shout.

“Exactly, and we can’t risk losing more. I’ll buy the child! Now stop it!” I order the traders.

The man takes out a small portable radio from his pouch and a screeching noise resonates from it. Then he speaks through it: “Bashmu, come here.”

And after a whole minute, a bloodied child walks out of the crowd, with a long sniper in arms.

“What the…”

I can’t believe my eyes.

The child’s whole body is covered in blood. Probably the blood of its comrades whom it used as covers to fly away with the trader.

Without saying a thing, it stands next to the Mamluks who shiver at its sight.

I stand from behind the jeeps and start walking towards them, followed by the soldiers.

“Glad to make a deal with you, we didn’t want to keep her any longer, so we’ll give you a fair price.” The Mamluk smiles, the others too scared to pronounce a word.

I look at the child’s eyes. Its lack of expressiveness makes it seem like an actual monster. It’s not my first time dealing with child soldiers but it has always been a painful experience.

I can’t tell why, at this moment, I didn’t kill it.

I didn’t feel any form of revulsion towards it, even though it killed all my precious comrades.

The only emotion its face evokes in me isn’t one of hate, but of pity.

The transaction concludes quickly, and I didn’t even make the effort to bargain.

It’s true there could have been other ways to solve this situation. I could have called for the 2^nd lieutenant’s unit to take them in sandwich. This child, as talented and well trained as it is, can’t possibly focus on two fronts.

But I didn’t think it was a solution.

Am I buying this child as a way to atone for all those I killed?

Of course, it’s not like saving this child saves every other…

We’re not here to play heroes, that’s what I said to the now late 1^st lieutenant.

Who am I fooling? The thing is, I always wished to be a hero…

Is this kid going to loathe at me for having bought them? What can I even do about it?

It’s better to see it fight for the right cause than see it fall under bad hands.

The right cause? How laughable I am.

There is nothing right in this world, but I do hope, that if gods exist, they see I tried my best.

“What’s your name?” I ask the child.

It doesn’t respond. I can’t even tell if it understood me or not.

“Well, it doesn’t matter.” I sigh. “Some things are better left unnamed. Let’s go.” I announce to the rest of the soldiers.

I seat the child next to me in one of the jeeps, and we drive up the hill.

The final event of this fateful operation is to hear a detonation from the bastion.

“2^nd Lieutenant!” I jump out of the car but get stopped by the walls crumbling.

The tensions with the Umayyad got vaporized alongside the mercenaries who blew themselves up to cover it.

After a few hours of research, we find the five soldiers and the 2^nd lieutenant, alive, but gravely wounded. Especially the 2nd lieutenant, whose skin, in some places, especially the face and arms, suffered third degree burns.

It turns out the price I’ll pay for this ‘good action’ might be way greater than I expected.

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