by Rob Mclean
“Don’t do that,” the Captain frowned and shook her head. “Not with her.”
Ling put on a suitably humble expression as she sat up straight and moved away from the pinyin. She was confused. Didn’t the Captain didn’t want the American girl to share their bed? Isn’t that why she was here?
“I was saying that India is interesting, because we already know that most of the American states and the important Russian provinces are already with us.”
“Oh,” was all Ling could say. She now saw that the Captain was being patronising when she was patting the American girl’s leg, explaining to the pinyin, in her single-minded way, of the futility of her continued faith. It had only been Ling’s own jealousies that had distorted the reality of the situation.
“Come now,” the Captain said as she struggled out of the armchair and to her feet. “I have seen enough of this,” she motioned at the television, “to know how things stand.” She reached for Ling’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “It is time for bed.”
“Are you going to just leave her there?” Ling asked.
The Captain cast a look the American girl, who sat with her head bowed. “We will leave Michelle to her thoughts.”
“Michelle?” Since when did the Captain call this pinyin by her name?
“What would you do with her?”
“Why don’t we bring Michelle to bed with us?” Ling tried to sound seductive, but she heard only bitterness in her own voice. A terrified look on Michelle’s face confirmed it.
“A very generous offer on your behalf,” the Captain said with deliberate civility, “but it is one we shall decline.”
With a curt nod towards the American girl, the Captain turned, and with Ling in tow, went to the bedroom. The American girl briefly watched them go, her face expressionless, before turning her attention back to the screen in front of her.
To Ling, it seemed that in the eyes of the pinyin, her relationship with the Captain had put her so far beyond redemption that she was not worth the effort of disdain. Yet another depressing aspect of the American girl’s life that was wrong. Ling had a sudden urge to tell the American girl that her foolish friends were praying for her, but instead banished the silly notion with a rueful shake of her head. Prayer had never done her any good.
Once inside, the Captain closed the door and with short, clumsy fingers, fumbled with the belt holding up her uniform pants.
Ling guided the Captain onto the edge of the bed. Ling gave her a lifeless, jaded kiss on the lips while she undid the buttons of the Captain’s shirt.
Ling worked her way down, avoiding the squat, stubby breasts that she knew the Captain didn’t like being touched.
“Are you sure you don’t want the American girl as well?” Ling asked. She knew she was risking the Captain’s ire to pursue the issue, but she needed to know that she was still special, still the Captain’s only lover. It was her only source of power in this prison and she would kill to keep it so.
“Your jealousy is touching.” Captain Lau lifted Ling’s face with a hand cupped under her chin. She gave her a hazy grin, mistaking her concern as a sign of covetousness and genuine affection, before giving her a drunken, wet kiss on the lips. She then flopped herself back on the bed and allowed Ling to remove her shoes and undo her belt. With a little help, Ling soon had the uniform pants off.
The Captain was different from anyone else Ling had ever personally known. Captain Lau had been born a hermaphrodite, and as a result, had a vestigial, malformed, miniature penis, or perhaps a grotesquely enlarged clitoris. Either way, the condition had rendered her infertile.
At birth, it was decided that she would be declared a boy, albeit an unfortunate, malformed one. Genetic testing was too expensive and as it was a decision her parents were wanting, was not persued as boys have always been favoured. It was hoped that puberty would improve things for the unlucky boy. However, when Lau started to sprout breasts, it was grudgingly conceded that Lau was, in fact, a girl.
Her parents sought dispensation to have another child, as this one was defective, but the local official, fearing another abomination, ruled against it.
The disappointment had caused Lau to curse the God who had blighted her. Her bitterness had fuelled her hatred of those who worshipped the spiteful God and had propelled her to her current position of persecution.
Now, with the world-wide referendum vindicating her personal philosophy, the Captain needed little help to achieve her version of release.
Afterwards, Ling helped the Captain into her nightshirt. Ling let her own hair down and slipping off her dress, she slid under the sheets and insinuated herself against the Captain’s softly snoring body.
The Captain woke as Ling stroked her hair. She rolled towards Ling and clasped her tightly.
“Tell me you love me,” Lau demanded, her eyes closed, her voice a dozy, mumbling murmur.
“Of course I do,” Ling lied automatically. She hated this part of her role. No matter what mask she wore, no matter what she did, it clawed at her soul to lie about love. “We have a special relationship.”
Chapter 25
Admiral Karl Schwartz watched the referendum results with disbelief. He didn’t care much about the rest of the world, but he followed the break-up of the United States avidly.
Overall, across the whole country, the ‘yes’ vote had almost a three-quarter majority. Most of the big population, east coast states had voted ‘yes’, along with the entire west coast. He couldn’t believe that his hometown, the so-called ‘City of Angels’ had produced one of the worst results.
The alien envoy, with his charming good looks and glittering promises of a golden future had fooled so many otherwise good people – just as it had been foretold. It was the End-Times and he cursed that he was stuck in prison.
No doubt, the alien sky-show had awed millions and had swayed their vote, but that religious nut-job assassinating the President had not helped their cause at all.
As he watched the results coming in, he felt his anger and frustration grow. Texas was still faithful, as was Alabama and Utah. Many of the traditional Bible belt states, which he had expected to be safe, were now still in doubt. They were talking about taking the results down to county level, but he didn’t see how that would work.
Officially, the states, or even counties, that had voted ‘Yes’ for the referendum now were eligible to join the new world government. Just how that would work, he didn’t know, and no one was saying. He couldn’t see Americans being happy to be ruled from Beijing, no matter what wonderful futures were offered.
Doubtless the alien AntiChrist would let them all know in his good time. In the meantime, he wondered how the military would respond to the referendum outcome. Would Washington align with the new world government? He didn’t see how they couldn’t. They would want to be part of the promise, besides, it had been prophesized. The armies of the AntiChrist would persecute the righteous until the end, until salvation comes with the return of the Lord. But how long would that be? Could the righteous survive with the combined US and Chinese forces ranged against them? And what about the Russians, hadn’t they been lost as well? He tried to remember, but he had slept little during the last few days, and he had been so focussed on the US results.
He figured that the military would want to ensure that any transitions went peacefully. They would have to secure all their assets in the ‘no’ states. After all, the new world government had banned the religious from having weapons of mass destruction following the Iranian attack on the alien spacecraft. That could cause problems. He couldn’t see the local commanders giving up their weapons easily, but perhaps, like in his own case, it would depend on the individual officers and their own personal beliefs. He hoped it didn’t lead to some sort of civil war, but he knew that the hope was likely to be forlorn.
As he tried to remember the strategic deployment of homeland assets, in particular, the stockpiles of weaponry in the religious states, his thoughts were abruptly
interrupted by a deafening boom of a nearby explosion. The sounds of gunfire followed accompanied by the screams and yells of battle.
The power died and with it the television. The Admiral banged on his cell door, conscious of how little protection the thin wooden door offered. The MP guard, a cherub faced kid who looked like he was straight out of the academy, answered. He held his M16 loosely with sweaty hands.
“What’s going on, son?”
The private held a hand up to forestall more questions from the Admiral, before pressing his finger to his ear-piece. He frowned at the news he heard.
“What is it, dammit?” The sounds of gunfire were getting unmistakeably closer.
“Sir,” the kid swallowed hard. “The base is under attack.”
Tell me something I don’t know, the Admiral was tempted to say, but the kid looked like he was about to pass out. Clammy sweat beaded on his upper lip and forehead.
“Yes, but who? Is it the Iranians?” The Admiral couldn’t understand how they could have possibly prepared and launched an attack without the US military knowing. The surveillance capabilities of the base were unsurpassed, at least until the alien had arrived. The Ayatollah couldn’t start up his electric toothbrush without them knowing, so how could hostiles possibly get close enough to attack the base without them knowing?
The base had enough firepower to lay waste to the entire Iranian fleet and air-force. The superiority of the US forces was undeniable, but the sounds of battle said otherwise. Did they have help? But from who? The Chinese? The alien?
“Not the Iranians,” the young guard’s eyes darted about, following the sounds of gunfire as the battle drew closer. “Sir, they think it’s the Saudis”
“The Saudis?” the Admiral echoed. “But they’re our allies, they wouldn’t…” His words trailed off as his thoughts overtook them. It made sense. All the surveillance was directed at the known threats across the Straits of Hormuz, not so much on our allies. While the US military could take out all the naval and air assets the enemy could direct at them, it was never envisioned that an enemy would survive long enough to even get close enough to launch a ground attack.
But he still didn’t know why these treacherous allies would want to risk the wrath of the most powerful nation on Earth. What could make them want to attack?
The wild, angry bark of a M16 nearby interrupted his thoughts. It was answered by a chorus of quieter, short bursts from guns that were foreign to the Admiral.
The guard pressed his finger to his ear, but the Admiral could tell by the worried look on the private’s face that there was no help coming from there. He looked to the Admiral for direction, wringing his M16 in his sweaty hands, all the while glancing down the corridor for the intruders.
“Son, give me your service pistol.” The Admiral had no intention of surrendering without a fight.
A moment of indecision flashed across the guard’s face before he undid the holder and withdrew the Beretta 9mm. His hands shook as he extended the gun towards the Admiral.
“Son, have you made your peace with Jesus?”
“Huh?” A frown of confusion creased the young man’s face before his eyes widened with understanding. “We’re gonna die, aren’t we?”
“Most likely.”
“Oh, shit. Oh, God. I ain’t ready…” The young guard was still holding the pistol out towards the Admiral when his whole body shook, jerking with the impact of a rain of bullets. The pistol clattered to the floor, spinning on itself, before the guard’s blood pooled around it.
The Admiral had instinctively stepped back, but now considered trying to grab the Beretta. The sound of running boots changed his mind. Instead, he put both his hands out into the corridor.
“Don’t shoot. I’m unarmed.” He felt he was betraying the young guard by surrendering without a fight, but he could see that his position was tactically hopeless.
“Out, out,” a heavily accented voice called. “Now come, now.”
The Admiral stepped into the corridor with his hands raised, expecting the same fate as the guard. Instead he was frisked by a pair of Saudi soldiers carrying Steyr AUG rifles. He recognised the green badge with a yellow palm tree over a pair of crossed scimitars emblazoned on their uniforms.
“You are supposed to be our allies,” the admiral growled as his hands were fastened behind his back. A kick behind his knees forced him to kneel before his captors.
An officer stepped from behind his charges, who rearranged themselves to cover their superior. If not for the uniform and the weaponry, he could have passed as a twin of the alien emissary. The star and crown he wore on his epaulettes identified him as an aspiring Lieutenant Colonel. “Is this him?” he asked over his shoulder.
From behind the officer, the Admiral saw an Arabic man emerge. He was clearly not one of this elite team of Saudi Special Forces, being older and shabbily unfit by comparison. The admiral recognised him as the same man who had bowed at him when he had first arrived at the Bahrain base. The Admiral allowed himself a satisfied grin- he had been right when he had suspected the sly man of being a spy.
“Yes, that’s him,” the little man nodded. “No uniform, but Allah be praised, that’s him.”
The officer motioned at the soldiers, who removed the cable-ties that bound the Admiral’s wrists.
“Rear-Admiral Karl Schwarz?” The Saudi officer saluted the Admiral, and then extended his hand in greeting. “Lieutenant Colonel Fariq Haziz.”
The Admiral glanced down at the body of the young MP guard, the eyes frozen where death had subsumed pain, then back at the officer’s hand.
“Unfortunate,” was all the Saudi officer said as he lowered his hand. A frown marred his smooth complexion. “Not just this,” he gestured towards the dead guard, “but the whole business is most unfortunate.”
The Saudi officer spoke with a cultivated English accent. The Admiral suspected that he was some relative of one of the Saudi royal families sent to England for his education, formal as well as sexual. He probably had even trained with the British SAS.
“You were supposed to be our allies,” the Admiral repeated. He didn’t want to let the civilities distract him from the treachery. “You know what happened to the Japanese after Pearl Harbour?”
“On the contrary, sir,” the young officer smiled, “it is you who betrayed us.”
“The hell you say.”
“Indeed, I do say.” The Saudi officer held up his hand. “Your countrymen were invited here to help defend this nation and our royal families.”
“And for our efforts, we get this,” the Admiral pointed to the dead guard.
“It is your country who has betrayed us by renouncing Allah and siding with the alien.”
“But, not all…” the Admiral began to say, but he knew that, in effect, the Godless majority would prevail and control of his country would fall, one way or another to the alien’s new world order.
“Did you think we would sit idly by and allow sworn enemies nest on our lands?” The Saudi officer didn’t wait for a reply. “No, instead all across our lands, the enemy is being fought. Their swords are being seized to be turned against them.”
The Admiral pictured the same surprise attacks on US and other western nations’ military bases across the whole Middle East. Could they be that fanatical, or more importantly, that co-ordinated? One look at the well-trained, educated young officer before him confirmed his fears. He could see the vast amounts of military assets invested in securing US interests across the Middle East falling into the hands of these religious fanatics. Then he remembered that the US had bases across Pakistan, Afghanistan and a lot of northern Africa.
“Yes,” the Saudi officer continued, his smile widening as he read the horrified expression on the Admiral’s face. “We are united in our fight against the alien Dajjal.”
“The alien AntiChrist,” the Admiral nodded. Despite the Saudi’s differing religion and terminology, their aim, he realized, was the same- to rid the world of t
he Devil’s representative.
“Yes,” the Saudi officer spun on his heels to face the Admiral. “That is why we have rescued you.”
“Rescued?” The Admiral frowned. He could see it from their perspective.
“Yes. We saw you strike the first blow against the Dajjal.” The Admiral could hear the awe and respect in Lieutenant Colonel Haziz’s voice. His tone was reflected in the faces of his devout followers. “We humbly ask that you join with us and continue the fight.”
Lieutenant-Colonel Haziz offered his hand again. He thought of his wife and daughter, back home in L.A. They had no need of him anymore. His wife had not needed him for many years and his daughter was actively rejecting all he stood for. His future, his purpose and his redemption for all his sins lay with maintaining his faith. To do that he had to continue the fight. With another look at the dead guard, and after the briefest moment of hesitation, this time the Admiral took the Lieutenant-Colonel’s hand and shook it.
Besides, he reasoned, this way he just might get to see Lieutenant Gray one more time.
Chapter 26
Chelsea had been a lot nicer towards Angela since her parents had left the church. While she regretted their decision and prayed for their souls, it was good to have her friend back.
“We’re going out tonight,” Chelsea said, after getting a text. “Come out with us, sista.”
“Who’s us?” Angela wasn’t ready for another round of abuse from Zeke.
“Just Christy and me.”
“What’s Zeke up to?”
“Who is this Zeke that you speak of?” Chelsea feigned a bewildered look. “Oh, wait. I do remember some long-lost love from your past. Was that his name?”
Angela preferred this sarcasm to the haranguing Chelsea had tried in the past, so she smiled obligingly.
“He’s all busy with the alien AntiChrist thing. He’s trying to organise some sort of resistance or protest, even though the election thing is done. If you ask me, I think he’s getting a bit obsessed with it.” Chelsea put on a bemused look and waved away her own words. “But what do you care? Anyway, there’s a band playing. We’ll have a girl’s night out. It’ll be fun.”