S7: Jihad

We watched them filter in during the night, thanks to our drones using infrared technology, fifty in all. Armaments seemed to be primarily AK-47's and RPG's. although we did pick up one mortar being placed on a nearby hill. Apparently they intended to attack just before dawn, traditionally the best time, the night watch being sleepy and the day watch not fully awakened.

We watched them get into position, then attacked. The drones took out the mortar team first, literally blowing the top of the hill off. Two fighters did strafing runs on the most concentrated numbers, and unfortunately one was shot down by an RPG, pure luck on their part.

Still reeling by the sudden onslaught, they were no match for the hundred or so villagers and my two teams, and the whole thing was over in less than thirty minutes. Ten were capture alive, including the leader. We gave the elders a ten thousand dollar bonus for him, and the teams took him along when they departed.

The whole thing was streamed live, right down to the execution of the survivors. New age warfare had arrived.

The international press was going crazy, trying to figure out who we were. Governments, despite our assurances we had no interest in their politics past how they interacted with our enemy, were very uneasy nonetheless. Will called a meeting.

"All right, time to go public. Not full disclosure, but enough so they have some idea who they're dealing with. Major, will you do the interview?"

It took a three hour debate, but in the end I agreed. Mohammed reached out, and got two journalists, one French, the other American, to agree to the terms of the interview.

They were met at an airport in Oman, drugged, and transported to the interview site. It was actually only thirty minutes away, but we rode them around in the back of a van for six hours before we carried them inside a warehouse, to the set of the interview. We had our own team of videographers, light, and sound technicians. As soon as they were cognizant, we started.

They saw an average sized man, dressed in fatigues, wearing the headdress and robes of a traditional Arab over them, with a mask hiding my face. I spoke in Farsi, using an interpreter, to further hide my identity.

"Who are you?" The inevitable first question.

"We are merely a group who have individually suffered greatly at the hands of ISIS. They are merely thugs describing themselves as holy warriors, and their atrocities must come to an end. Our group is dedicated to erasing them as a threat to the way of life in every country they occupy. They are NOT holy warriors, just opportunists, greedy for power and wealth."

"Many countries now view you as a threat, destablizing the political balance of the region. How do you answer that?"

"We are not the least bit concerned about the politics of the area. Want us to go away? Toss ISIS out. We'll quietly fade into a memory."

The Frenchman laughed. "Easier said than done. Some actually believe in ISIS. How would you respond to them?"

"Again, we do not care about politics, but if you declare your country a safe haven, then we will come after you. Our group knows no borders, honor no treaties between governments.Politics will not keep you safe."

"This must put you in terrible danger, if the governments become involved."

"We've been in terrible danger since this started. The governments need to attend to themselves, once again, we have no agenda for them. Leave us alone and let us do our work."

After a few more inane questions and a few that had merit, we wrapped the interview up, giving them a chance to ask one more question. They were the same. "Who are you guys?"

I dropped my traditional robe, showing my military fatigues, with a large patch on the arm. "S7" boldly displayed in red.

"We are the Sons Of S7. Teachers, scientists, historians, and warriors who came together out of a desire to preserve the past. They were never violent until violence was forced on them. They were never political, but were hunted down and executed for the crime of embarrassing their enemies. For every terrorist we kill, every power base we take down, they rejoice in their afterlife, I'm sure. The killing of innocent scholars started this. I hope as their dreams die and their life is extinguished they regret their decision to make public examples out of them."

I added one last comment. "Please be aware, even if we are exposed, even if our funding stops and governments come after us, we will not swerve from our path."

We watched the interview in our stronghold. Will was amazed. "Jesus, Major, you come off as big a fanatic as they are."

"Well, I meant to. It's all they understand. Now they know we're serious, and maybe they'll make mistakes or get careless."

What they did was offer a million dollar reward for my head, preferably still hooked to a live body, even though they had no idea who I was.

We branched out hitting Hezbollah and Al-Quida sites, leaving a false trail for them to follow back to ISIS. Trust between the groups were minimal at best, and these actions put a severe strain on all relationships.

Security tightened around the leaders, and made it impossible to reach them. I joked to Omar one day that it was a pity the Ishmalis weren't still around, we could use a few skilled assassins right about now. He just gave me a small smile, and put me in touch with a man, which led to other meetings, until two months later I met two men in the desert, alone, carrying just a small sack.

They gave me tea with a sedative mixed in, and soon I was asleep. I had no idea how long, minutes, hours, no way to tell. I was bound, in the back of a truck, that bounced around in the countryside for another four hours.

We stopped, and they gently set me on my feet, leading me inside a building and up a steep set of stairs, into a large room. There my restraints were removed gently, and I was bade wait. Thirty or so minutes later three men came into the room, wrapped from head to toe, their faces covered.

So I had my meeting with the Old Man Of The Mountain, the title given to every leader of the Assassin's Guild since their inception almost two thousand years ago. They survived, in the shadows, occasionally selling their services. They had adapted and evolved over the centuries, using their wits and cunning to survive. No longer hill peasants, many were highly educated in all sorts of fields, from computers to diplomacy. Still ruthless and willing to die to fulfill a contract.

They had done their homework, and knew exactly who I was. What I wanted didn't come cheap, but the benefits of having millions at your disposal made it easy to meet their price. My gift of the head of one of their biggest enemies went a long way into establishing a rapport with the leader.

I wondered, later, as I woke in the the dessert to a grinning Omar, how the ISIS supreme commander would react when he woke to the sight of the heads of two of his sons on the pillows beside him, S7 branded into their foreheads.

.........

What it did was take our war out of the shadows. The reward for my capture was upped to five million, my verified death to two. We still weren't too worried, because they still had no idea who we were.

If there was the slightest bit suspicion you knew anything about S7, you were detained, tortured, and killed. Between that, the offers of money, and the wish among some for the fighting to end, led to leaks.

I admit it, success had made us arrogant. It was a carefully laid ambush, the bait being the rumor that a major player was in the village. I took all three teams of wolves with me, figuring that would be enough. Our plan was to be in and out in minutes.

None of us wore any signs of rank, but the enemy was clever enough to watch us, and see who the men deferred to. I lost a third of my men in the first minutes of fighting. We regrouped, and began a run and gun retreat, trying to get as many out as possible. A few, wounded, and knowing they would die horribly if captured, invoked the pact.

The pact was an agreement among themselves. If capture was imminent and there was no hope of rescue, they would end their own lives or get their friends to help. I watched as Omar, with tears flowing, cut the throats of two of his friends. Jamal did three more.

It enabled us to move faster, and we were almost clear when another large group hit our flank. I was hit, high up on the right side. Omar stopped the blood, and produced a small dirt bike.

"Flee into the desert! We will find you. If not, go with Allah!"

Against my instincts, I pointed the bike West and took off, driving until the tank was empty. I had seen no sign of life, but knew if I kept heading West I would reach a village or town.

I walked for three days, before collapsing from exhaustion, my wound, and lack of water. I lay on a dune in the blazing sun, hoping death would come quickly. In my mind I could see my family, Maddy, Joe, Tati, my mother, Polly, and Fran. I would have cried, but there was no moisture for tears.

The drones found me. I had been walking at night, to conserve energy, and had hidden myself during the day. When I passed out in the morning sun, it took two hours before a video of my body was sent to the stronghold. Will and Omar, who somehow managed to survive, dropped out of the sky six hours later.

It took me almost a day to wake up, in a comfortable bed in a cool room. As soon as the doctors deemed me fit, I called home, changing into my normal clothes and getting out of bed. Maddy was frantic, the enemy had announce they had killed me and most of S7. When she saw my face it took her three minutes before she could stop crying long enough to talk.

"Come home, honey! Let them have their little squabbles. You have avenged your friends and family, the debt is paid."

I promised her I would be home soon.

.....

I don't know if it was a epiphany, hallucinations from loss of blood, the heat and lack of water, but every night I had companions, walking the dunes by the light of a full moon.

First it was Jo, from twenty-five years ago, shining in the moonlight, so beautiful it took my breath. I tried to speak but she gently put her fingers to my lips. "It's a beautiful night, honey. Let's just walk."

So we did, for what seemed like hours, as she held my arm. She suddenly stopped, looked up into my face, and smiled through the tears that fell on her cheeks. "I have to go now, honey. I'll always love you, but you have others depending on you now. Treat them with the kindness and love you gave me for so many years."

She turned and walked over the crest of a dune, shimmering as she faded into the distance.

A couple of hours later Josh just showed up, grinning that goofy grin and falling into step with me, singing a song from his childhood. He walked me into a shallow cave just before daylight, made sure I lay down, and walked away.

The next night Sherry came out of the shadows, turned, saying something over her shoulder, and Fatima joined her. They linked arms with me, and we ambled along as they sang me children's songs in different languages, waiting patiently for me to get up after one of what would be many falls. At dawn I stumbled into a copse of scrub trees, laying down on the needles. I don't think I'd ever felt such a comfortable bed. I felt their kisses on my cheek as they disappeared.

The third night I waited much later to start my journey. First Anatoli appeared, then Emil and Said. They hugged and laughed, trailing behind me, singing bawdy songs in three languages, as I stumbled along.

They stood patiently the first four times I fell, waiting for me to get up. When I fell the fifth time they sat by my side for a long time, urging me to get up. Emil left first, then Said and finally Anatoli. He didn't speak, but I knew what he was asking.

"They're great kids, Anatoli. Tati grows more beautiful every day, and Josef is a carbon copy of you. Maddy and I will give them a good life, my brother. You can rest in peace." He nodded, once, and disappeared.

I lay there for a while longer, a pleasant numbness enveloping me, when I heard a laugh. Wondering who it was, I looked behind me. There stood the terrorist we had beheaded so long ago. He was standing there, holding his head in his hand, the laughter coming from it. There seemed to be a horde behind him. Some I recognized, most I didn't, but they all bore wounds, and my mind made the connection instantly. Enemies we had killed in combat. They were all sporting some version of a smile, waiting for me to die.

"Fuck You!," I wanted to scream, but it came out as more of a croak. "I won't give you the satisfaction!"

I staggered to my feet and stumbled on, hearing them behind me. I walked, fell, walked some more, until I couldn't get up anymore. Then I crawled, the sand cool and comforting to my hands. It became daylight and I kept crawling, until there was just nothing left in me. I lay on top of a dune, and I could see behind me. There was nothing there. I felt a grim satisfaction that I had beaten them before I passed out.

I dreamed Tati had me by one arm, Josef the other, while Maddy tried to pull me up by my collar. "Pete! Wake up! You need to come home."

I struggled to rise, and looked up to see Will and Omar grinning down at me, wondering where the hell they came from.

.....

Maddy was right. The rage that had consumed me was waning. In many places, ISIS was becoming a joke. Will had some flyers printed and dropped over multiple towns and cities. They were wanted posters, pictures of the upper echelons of their movement, with bounties ranging from a thousand for foot soldiers, to ones of the leaders going up to five million in value, double if they were delivered alive to a location revealed only by text from a number on the flyers.

Many, seeing the writing on the wall, turned on their leaders, selling them to gather enough money to start a new life far away. High command starting executing soldiers at the least whiff of betrayal, which didn't engender warm feelings. The Sheiks were spending up to 200 thousand a week in some areas.

The other terrorist organizations, seeing a possible power vacuum, tried to move in. The villagers, my wolves, and the rising number of a new Independence Army treated them harshly, threatening to put their faces on wanted posters along with ISIS.

The Saudis were backing the rebels, supplying their needs against a regime they never favored. Their revenge had sparked a movement they hadn't expected, and there were many late night discussions on what to do about it. Will disappeared for awhile, coming back with a huge grin and saying little.

I felt more than heard the excitement. Mohammad led me to the control room, and we looked through a screen at the activity outside a small town.

Soldiers. A lot of soldiers, All looking crisp and clean, new uniforms, state of the art weapons, moving with discipline and purpose.

"The Syrian Independence Army. Fifteen hundred in this group, with at least twice that many in training, and more showing up every day." Will was about to burst with pride.

"How did that happen?"

"Well, it started with the stories of how villagers were fighting back, both against ISIS and their current government. These were all refugees, hand picked and trained for four months in a remote area of Hungary. We didn't exactly had permission, but we made enough 'contributions' to the locals and parts of the military that they left us in peace. Many are former soldiers, and we picked the leaders from their ranks."

"They seem well trained."

"Yes, indeed. The Princes got the best. Two former SAS officers and three sargeants, Three officers from the Russian Special Forces, two retired Mossad operatives. One retired U.S. colonel who specialized in counter terror tactics, one retired captain from the Green Berets, two Navy Seals, a couple of long range recon Marines, and four Rangers. They learned to fight like demons but think while they were doing it, and never lose focus if their mission. And this is just the first batch. There is another thousand ready to graduate in two months. We're sure we won't lack for recruits."

He took a controller and zoomed in on their uniforms. Mottled desert hues, with arm badges. SLA, and under neath, a small S7. Mohammad saw my look and grinned. "An homage to you and your group. All this is because of your work."

I was stunned. This wasn't what I had in mind at all. Then again, I hadn't given much thought about what would happen. I was just hell bent on revenge.

.......

Things went on for another two months, the SLA picking targets carefully, liberating small towns on the fringes of the action first. After a town was taken, the commanding officers would gather the leaders of the community, and form a provisional government, leaving a small force and one officer in place. The officer hammered cooperation into them. "You're not Sunni, you're not Shiite, you're not Jewish or Christian, you're Syrians first. Work together, and live in peace and prosperity."

The Princes had set up an organization patterned after the African micro loan program that had proven very successful. Small loans were given, with no interest and very small payments, to finance local businesses. One of the most successful businesses were construction companies, there was always a lot of rebuilding to do. Restaurants and coffee shops returned to the streets. The first two major projects in any town were rebuilding the hospitals and schools.

And there was a hard and fast rule that was never violated. Preach any doctrine you wanted to, but if there was a power grab, or terrorist activities, it ended badly. There was a short trial, and then you were shot. Every time. It was explained the provisional government couldn't afford to dedicate resources to a jail, and had no inclination to do so.

The current regime was getting very nervous. They, along with their allies, started bombings. It was a surprise the first day, but the second, a broadcast was sent out declaring the area a no fly zone, and drones shot down everything that violated air space. There were over a hundred drones in our little Air Force by now, so if we lost one, two more were ordered.

Most times the enemy pilots weren't injured. Using technology they had developed, the drone would drop out of stealth mode, send a short, very powerful EMP burst towards the enemy plane, and hover as the plane, powerless, would glide to the ground. Anyone who ejected would be picked up quickly, driven to a safe area, and turned loose.

.........

I was growing steadily more disillusioned with what I was doing. My intent was pretty simple, to try and destroy the lives of those who had harmed me and my friends, not to participate in empire building.

And I had pretty much succeeded, there was a running joke about ISIS fighters, and what they were worth. A sort of open season was declared, and it became a popular and profitable business. Most times they were beheaded, a picture sent to a website for verification that they were indeed ISIS soldiers. If not, they would not be paid, to make sure they didn't just kill at random and pass the victim off as ISIS.

Oddly, public hangings were becoming a favorite, video rolling as they danced and jerked until the life left them.

My wound had brought home my aging reflexes and physical condition. I was in my late fifties by now, and recovery time took much longer. The Princes came to visit me as I recovered. The elder smiled when he knew I was going to be all right.

"Your Jihad is over, is it not, my brother? I can see it in your eyes. You long for your family, and you should return to them. We will continue to fight, you have our word. My daughter and your friends have been avenged many times over, but we will continue to inflect punishment on our enemies. Go with Allah."