The bus ride to Abuja took four hours through increasingly congested highways, past roadside markets selling everything from roasted plantains to diesel fuel in plastic bottles. Elisha pressed his face to the window, watching the landscape transform from the dusty outskirts of Kaduna to the more manicured approaches to the Federal Capital Territory.
"First time in Abuja?" asked Sarah Ogundipe, one of the two civilian delegates assigned to his simulation team. She was a third-year student at the University of Lagos studying International Relations—sharp-eyed, articulate, and clearly skeptical about military involvement in governance.
"Yes," Elisha admitted. "I've seen it on television, but..."
"But seeing the seat of power in person is different," finished the other delegate, Michael Adeyemi, a graduate student in Public Administration from Ahmadu Bello University. "All that marble and glass, paid for with oil money while the rest of the country crumbles."
Sarah shot him a warning look. "We're supposed to be working together on this simulation, remember? Save the political commentary for later."
Elisha studied his briefing materials one more time. The scenario was complex: coordinated attacks on petroleum infrastructure across three states, with early intelligence suggesting foreign involvement but unclear motives. As the military representative on the emergency response team, he would need to brief civilian leadership, coordinate with other security agencies, and help craft a response that balanced immediate security needs with longer-term stability.
"What's your read on the intelligence picture?" Sarah asked, peering over his shoulder at the classified-looking documents. "The pattern of attacks suggests pretty sophisticated planning."
"Too sophisticated for purely domestic actors," Elisha agreed. "But not necessarily foreign either. Could be domestic groups with external support—funding, training, equipment."
"Which makes the response more complicated," Michael observed. "If we treat it as purely external aggression, we miss the domestic grievances that made the external support possible. If we treat it as purely domestic, we underestimate the threat."
Elisha nodded. These civilian students were clearly as sharp as the Academy instructors had promised. The simulation was designed to test not just military knowledge but the ability to work effectively with civilian expertise.
The bus pulled through the gates of the National Defence College, an imposing complex of glass and concrete that housed both the military's advanced training programs and various inter-agency simulation facilities. The mock National Security Council briefing room was on the third floor—a perfect replica of the real thing, complete with secure communications equipment and situation displays.
Colonel Baanjidu was waiting for them, along with three other teams of military cadets and civilian delegates. "Gentlemen and ladies, welcome to the Federal Capital Territory. For the next six hours, you will be operating as emergency response coordinators for a national security crisis. Your decisions will have consequences—not just for the immediate situation, but for Nysaria's long-term stability and international standing."
He gestured toward the briefing room. "The scenario begins at 0800 hours with multiple coordinated attacks on petroleum infrastructure. By 0900, oil production has dropped forty percent and international markets are responding. By 1000, there are reports of civil unrest in the Delta region and calls for military intervention. Your job is to advise the President and coordinate the national response."
Elisha felt his pulse quicken. This was the most realistic training he'd experienced—actual government facilities, actual procedures, actual complexity.
"One final note," Colonel Baanjidu added with a slight smile. "Expect the unexpected. Real crises rarely unfold according to plan."
---
The first two hours proceeded smoothly. Elisha's team worked through the initial intelligence assessments, coordinated with other security agencies (played by senior students from various military academies), and began drafting response options for presidential approval.
Sarah proved invaluable at identifying political implications: "If we deploy troops to the Delta without local government consent, we'll be accused of military occupation. But if we wait for consent, more infrastructure gets destroyed."
Michael's expertise in public administration helped structure their recommendations: "We need immediate, medium-term, and long-term tracks. Immediate: secure remaining infrastructure. Medium-term: address the security threat. Long-term: address the underlying grievances."
Elisha found himself serving as translator between military capabilities and civilian concerns. "We can secure the infrastructure, but that's a holding action. If we don't address the political issues, we'll just be creating a permanent garrison state."
The "President" (played by a retired general now teaching at the Defence College) listened to their briefing with the kind of focused attention that reminded everyone this wasn't just an academic exercise. "Cadet Oriade, your military assessment suggests we can contain the immediate threat within seventy-two hours. What's your confidence level in that timeline?"
"High confidence for containment, sir. Lower confidence for resolution. Containment means stopping the attacks and securing the infrastructure. Resolution means addressing the conditions that enabled the attacks in the first place."
"And if I order you to achieve resolution through military means alone?"
The room fell silent. This was the kind of question that tested more than technical knowledge.
"Sir, I would respectfully point out that military means alone cannot address political and economic grievances. We can suppress the symptoms, but not cure the disease."
"And if I told you that political and economic solutions are not your concern—that your job is simply to follow orders?"
Elisha felt every eye in the room on him. The other teams, the civilian delegates, the instructors—everyone waiting to see how he would handle direct pressure from simulated presidential authority.
"Sir, my oath is to protect the Constitution and the people of Nysaria. If purely military solutions would harm either of those interests, I would have a duty to say so."
The "President" leaned back in his chair, studying Elisha with an unreadable expression. "Even if such advice were unwelcome? Even if it meant being replaced by someone more... compliant?"
"Yes, sir. The oath is to the country, not to any individual leader."
A long pause. Then the "President" nodded. "Very well. Proceed with your recommendations."
---
At 1030 hours, just as Elisha's team was presenting their medium-term strategy recommendations, everything changed.
"Mr. President," the communications officer announced urgently, "we're receiving reports of military units moving toward the capital. Unscheduled and unauthorized."
The room erupted in controlled chaos. The "President" began issuing rapid orders to loyal units, while his "advisors" scrambled to establish communications with field commanders.
"This is not part of the scenario," Sarah whispered to Elisha. "Look at the instructors—they look genuinely surprised."
She was right. Colonel Baanjidu was speaking quietly but urgently into a secure phone, his expression grim. The other instructors were clustered around communication equipment, their professional calm replaced by obvious concern.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the "President" announced, "we may be dealing with a real situation developing alongside our simulation. All teams maintain your positions and continue your analysis, but be aware that we may need to transition from exercise to actual emergency response."
Elisha felt his stomach drop. A real coup? Here? Now? While they were playing at being national security advisors?
"What do we do?" Michael asked quietly.
"We do our jobs," Elisha replied, surprised by the steadiness of his own voice. "Real or simulated, the analysis doesn't change. If there's a coup attempt, the questions are still the same: Who? Why? How do we respond?"
Colonel Baanjidu approached their table. "Cadet Oriade, I need you to maintain the simulation while we verify what's happening. Your team's assessment may become more than academic if this develops further."
"Sir, are we really under coup threat?"
"Unknown at this time. But your training has prepared you for exactly this kind of uncertainty. Continue your work."
For the next hour, Elisha found himself in the surreal position of analyzing both a simulated petroleum crisis and a potentially real military coup, while his civilian teammates struggled to process the possibility that their academic exercise might suddenly become their actual reality.
"The pattern is similar to the 1993 Palace Rematch coup," Sarah observed, studying the reports coming in. "Military units claiming to act in response to civilian government failures, seizing key infrastructure and communications."
"But this time there's no clear leader," Michael added. "No single figure claiming authority. That makes it either more dangerous or less serious—harder to tell which."
At 1145 hours, Colonel Baanjidu called for attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, I can now confirm that what we've been observing was the final phase of your simulation. The 'coup attempt' was a planned injection designed to test your response to cascading crises."
The relief in the room was palpable, but Elisha felt something else: disappointment. For an hour, he'd been operating at a level of intensity and focus he'd never experienced before. The possibility of real consequences had sharpened every decision, clarified every priority.
"However," Colonel Baanjidu continued, "your responses to the simulated coup were very real, and very revealing. Cadet Oriade, your team maintained analytical discipline while others succumbed to panic. Ms. Ogundipe, your historical analysis of coup patterns was remarkably accurate. Mr. Adeyemi, your focus on institutional continuity showed mature understanding of governance under pressure."
The "President" stood up, dropping his role-play demeanor. "What you experienced in the last hour—the uncertainty, the pressure, the need to make critical decisions with incomplete information—that's what real leadership feels like. Not the classroom version, not the theoretical version, but the actual experience of bearing responsibility for other people's lives and your country's future."
He walked around the room, making eye contact with each participant. "Some of you handled that pressure well. Others did not. The good news is that this was just a simulation. The sobering news is that someday, for some of you, it won't be."
---
During the lunch break, Elisha walked out onto the Defence College's courtyard, needing fresh air and space to process what had just happened. The morning's intensity had left him both exhilarated and exhausted.
Sarah joined him on a bench overlooking the carefully manicured grounds. "That was intense."
"Yeah. For a while there, I thought we might actually be living through history."
"Would that have scared you? If it had been real?"
Elisha considered the question. "Scared? Yes. But also... focused. When I thought it might be real, everything became clearer. The politics, the personalities, the competing interests—all of that fell away, and there was just the job that needed doing."
"The job of preserving democracy?"
"The job of serving the country. Sometimes that means preserving democracy. Sometimes it means something else."
Sarah gave him a sharp look. "Something else? Like what?"
"I don't know. That's what makes it complicated." Elisha watched a group of senior officers walking across the courtyard, their conversation too distant to overhear but their body language suggesting serious business. "What if the democratic government is completely corrupt? What if it's actively harming the country? What if military intervention is the only way to save the institutions democracy is supposed to protect?"
"That's coup logic, Elisha. That's how every military takeover gets justified."
"I know. But what if it's also sometimes true?"
They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment. Finally, Sarah spoke: "I guess that's why they put us through exercises like this. To help us think through these questions before we face them for real."
"And did it help? Do you feel like you know what you'd do?"
"I feel like I know what I hope I'd do. Whether I'd actually do it under real pressure... that's harder to say."
Michael approached from the building, looking thoughtful. "They want us back inside in ten minutes. But I wanted to ask you something first, Elisha. When you stood up to the 'President' earlier—when you said your oath was to the country, not to individual leaders—did you mean that?"
"Yes."
"Even if it cost you your career? Even if it meant being branded as insubordinate or disloyal?"
"Yes."
"What if you were wrong? What if your judgment about what served the country was mistaken?"
That question stopped Elisha cold. He'd been so focused on the moral courage to stand up for his principles that he hadn't fully considered the possibility that his principles themselves might be flawed.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I guess you have to do your best to make sure your judgment is sound, and then accept responsibility for the consequences."
"Even if those consequences affect millions of people?"
"Especially then."
Michael nodded slowly. "That's the burden of leadership, isn't it? The possibility that your best intentions might still lead to terrible outcomes."
As they walked back toward the briefing room, Elisha found himself thinking about the morning's intensity—the way uncertainty had sharpened his focus, the way the possibility of real consequences had clarified his priorities. He wondered if he would feel the same clarity when the stakes were actually real, when the decisions he made would echo far beyond a classroom exercise.
The afternoon session focused on post-crisis analysis and institutional recovery. But Elisha's mind kept drifting back to that moment of uncertainty, when he'd thought he might be facing an actual coup attempt. In that moment, his response had been instinctive: analyze the situation, maintain institutional discipline, focus on serving the country rather than any individual leader.
But was that response right? And how could he be sure it would be the same when the pressure was real and lasting, when the consequences extended far beyond his own career?
As the bus carried them back toward Kaduna that evening, Elisha stared out at the darkening landscape and wondered if the day's exercises had answered his questions about leadership—or simply revealed how many more questions he still needed to answer.
In his notebook, he wrote: "Clarity under pressure. But what if the pressure reveals clarity that isn't true?"
Tomorrow would bring new classes, new simulations, new opportunities to test his judgment against increasingly complex scenarios. But tonight, he carried with him the unsettling recognition that moral courage without sound judgment might be as dangerous as moral cowardice.
The real test, he was beginning to understand, wasn't just whether he would stand up for his principles. It was whether his principles would prove worthy of the stand.