Free Earth Unaware (First Formic War) by Orson Scott Card, Aaron Johnston Page A

military action will mean for them at the voting booths. We move everywhere, sir.”
    “We do covert missions as well, Captain. Surely you don’t think our operations are only what you read about in the press.”
    “I am aware of your operations, Colonel. Both your covert actions and the missions that never reach your desk because one of your higher-ups vetoed the operation simply because the operation wasn’t his idea. There are careerists in this military, Colonel, as there are in every military. You are not one of them, but there are plenty above you.”
    Colonel Napatu had no response to that. He no doubt knew there were men above him who fit that description. He had been suffering under their command his entire career. What probably rattled him was learning that Wit knew more about the classified operations circling the upper echelons than he did.
    “We also offer something else,” said Wit. “You will take this as further arrogance, Colonel, but MOPs is arguably the most elite fighting force in the world. At least on a small scale. We recruit from the best Special Forces groups out there. Russian Alphas, U.S. Delta Force, British SAS, U.S. Navy SEALs, Israel’s Shayetet 13, French Green Berets. These units only take the best of their soldiers, sir, what they call the ‘one percenters.’ But MOPs are the point zero one percenters. We only take the best of their best. To be counted among us is an incredible honor. Our soldiers don’t forfeit their love of country or patriotism when they join us. I would argue that service in our unit is an even higher demonstration of love of country because you are representing your home nation on a global scale. Ask yourself, Colonel, if you were given the opportunity to represent New Zealand, to be one of the few men deemed by your government as your country’s perfect soldier, the ideal warrior, would you not at least be intrigued by the idea?”
    “I’ll concede that some may jump at the chance for more action,” said Napatu, “but why would we forfeit our best soldiers to another army outside our own jurisdiction?”
    “Because MOPs allows New Zealand to have a hand in global stability without worrying about political ramifications, sir. Send a brigade of New Zealanders into North Africa, and the political fallout could be catastrophic. Suddenly New Zealand is the bully of the world. But send a few New Zealanders who are a part of an international military unit seeking to preserve human rights, and there is little to no fallout. No one can accuse New Zealand of imperialism. Any action taken by MOPs is clearly an act of global goodwill.”
    “There are those who say MOPs are the dogs of the West, Captain O’Toole, that you boys are nothing more than grunts for American intelligence. Puppets of the CIA nicely disguised as a mini-international coalition.”
    Wit shrugged. “There are also those who say we are soulless child murderers carrying out the personal vendettas of the current U.S. administration. It’s propaganda, Colonel. You and I both know who we are and what we do.”
    Napatu was quiet a moment. Wit remained silent, letting the man think it through, though he knew Napatu would come around.
    Finally, Napatu said, “Who did you have in mind?”
    Wit removed his handheld from his pocket and set the device on the table in front of him. He extended the arms on the sides and the thin bar at the top and turned on the holo. A wall of data with photos and records of five servicemen floated in space above him. Wit turned the device around so it faced Napatu.
    “There are five of your men we’d like to screen.”
    “Screen?”
    “A capabilities test, sir. We want the best and most willing candidates. If all five pass our screening and demonstrate an eagerness to serve, then we will gladly take them all. If none pass, we will thank them and you for your time and not bother you further. It’s that simple.”
    Colonel Napatu scanned the names and didn’t show