by Rob Mclean
“That is entirely different,” the Lieutenant-Colonel snapped, but his words lacked conviction.
“Is it?”
“Enough.” Haziz threw his hands in the air. “I am willing to postpone your conversion,” he stepped in close to the Admiral and pushed an admonishing finger in his face, “– for now, but after all this is done and Allah has prevailed, I will personally oversee your submission to Islam.”
The Admiral grinned. ‘Like Hell,’ he thought. ‘I will personally put a bullet in your brain before it comes to that.’ But he extended his hand to the Saudi. “Looks like we got ourselves a deal then.”
“Don’t misunderstand me,” Haziz warned, “it is my solemn promise.”
“I know. As a man of faith, I understand.” The Admiral did not intend to let it come to that, but in the meantime he consoled himself that he had saved the lives of at least some of the captured personnel.
Haziz took the Admiral’s hand and shook on their agreement.
“Thank you,” the Admiral said. Despite the heat, he felt a cold shiver as relief coursed through his body.
“Come now, my enemy’s enemy,” Haziz said with a sharp smile, “you must speak some sense into your people.”
The Admiral sent a silent prayer of thanks to the heavens. He saluted the Lieutenant Colonel and turned to face the bedraggled collection of captives.
He saw hostility in many of the faces of the service personnel. In their eyes, he was in league with their captors, the Saudi traitors.
“Ladies and gentleman, I am Rear-Admiral Karl Schultz, commander of the United States sixth fleet.” He saw some of their faces showed confusion and others curiosity.
“Firstly I must apologise for your treatment so far,” he shot a sideways look at the Lieutenant-Colonel, who stood indifferently behind his Ray-Bans.
“The fact is that we are at war.” He paused to look into the faces that were giving him their full attention. To him, it was stating the obvious, but judging from some of the bewildered looks it seemed that they needed to hear it from someone in authority.
“It’s not unlike the war against terror that we’ve been waging for a very long time. We’re not at war with any one nation,” that brought dark mutterings from some of the captives, “but with an alien ideology that threatens our freedom.”
Contempt was clearly written on a few of the faces. These would be the ones that voted for the alien’s proposal. They would now see that an idealistic vote had a very real consequence.
“It started when the alien arrived and demanded that we renounce our religions. From that moment on, we, the people of faith, saw it as an attack on our way of life. The first shot was fired by the Iranians, but guided by my faith, I took it upon myself to send in cruise missiles immediately before that in order to maximise their chances of success.”
It occurred to the Admiral that he had just made a very public confession. He grinned at the gaping faces before him. They, like almost everyone else in the world, had seen the footage, but judging by their expressions, they couldn’t believe that the rumours were true; that U.S. forces had been responsible. He realised that he was committed now, that he had no chance of going back to his former safe life. He had just sacrificed his career and most likely his family, but it felt good to be openly doing God’s work. With the burden of duplicity and pretence lifted, he felt invigorated and alive.
“Unfortunately, that attack was not as effective as hoped.” He bowed his head, not out of shame but with the regret that he had risked all on that attack and he had failed.
“Although the alien, or as we prefer to call him, the AntiChrist, espouses peace and forgiveness, it is clear to us that his intentions are, as foretold in the Bible, the exact opposite.”
Bob Bellinger, the former base commander spoke out. He was almost unrecognisable without his uniform. Blood covered his bruised face, but his voice was the same.
“Karl, you can’t be serious, this… crusade?” he cringed as one of the Saudi guards strode towards him, raising the butt of his gun. The Admiral waved him down.
“I am… very.” He let his gaze take in all the Saudi troops. “And so are our Muslim friends.”
“Friends? They stormed our base and killed my people.”
“Allies in our fight…”
“Allies? Karl, have you gone crazy? These murderers…”
“Did what they had to do, what their beliefs demanded of them.” The Admiral hated the way his detached logic was supposed to justify the deaths of his fellow countrymen. He doubted any of the prisoners felt any differently. “They just understood the consequences of the referendum before we did.”
“Karl, you want to take on a technologically superior interstellar civilisation for the sake of religion? You can’t possibly win. Surely you can see that?”
The Admiral blinked. His rational, military mind saw the full futility of his quest. Even if they could somehow kill the envoy and by some greater miracle destroy his spacecraft, there was still the rest of his race out there somewhere, lurking far beyond their reach in the depths of the almost infinite, dark, interstellar space. No, they could never win that battle.
The Saudi Lt-Col stepped forward to stand beside the speechless Admiral. “You are mistaken. There is no great interstellar civilisation out there. We are all there is in the universe. It was all created for mankind and this Dijjal, or as you Christians call him, the AntiChrist is the great deceiver. He would have you believe that he is backed by a vast federation of worlds, but it is all a lie.”
The Admiral silently cursed himself for letting the base commander’s words fill him with doubts. He allowed himself a small, ironic chortle as he thanked his God for the Muslim’s wise and timely words.
“It is all an illusion, the spaceship, the technology…”
“But the Chinese were on the moon,” a voice called out from the midst of the ranks.
“Were they?” The Lt-Col did not try to address the interjector directly, but just spoke in their general direction.
They did not reply.
“You saw what you were allowed to see, but how do you know if it was real?” Haziz appealed to his audience with open upturned palms. “The reality is that he is demanding we renounce God…”
“Not God,” Bob Bellinger interrupted, “just religion.”
The Lieutenant-Colonel nodded as he walked over to the former base commander.
“Yes you are correct. He has only demanded that we reject religion. He does not, cannot deny the existence of God. That would be too much to ask.”
The Lieutenant Colonel weaved his way amid the captives sitting in the sun as he spoke. “But to give up religion, that is much more reasonable, is it not? As the Dijjal himself says, it is just a man-made concept, peculiar to only this backward little planet. Surely it is not too much to ask to give up these fanciful ideas?”
Lt-Col Haziz stood behind the former base commander. The Admiral supposed his questions were rhetorical, addressed to all the captives, but he prodded the commander for an answer.
“I’m a Catholic,” he said. “Of course I believe in God, but what you’re doing…”
“Our Holy Books are how we receive the word of God. Would you have them burnt?”
“No, but…”
“No? Without them, it would be God talking directly to you. Does that happen?”
The former base commander fell silent momentarily. The Admiral often spoke with God. He called it prayer, but it was a one-sided conversation. He never heard God talking back to him, the closest he ever got to a response was an inner feeling of righteousness, a conviction, but could never make up for a holy text.
“Look,” Bob Bellinger broke the Admiral’s thoughts, “even without the aliens, without the whole religion thing, you can’t take on the whole rest of the world.”
“No? With Allah’s blessing, anything is possible, is it not?” Haziz looked to the Admiral.
“With faith, you can move mountains,” the A
dmiral added. He silently urged Bob to back down.
“You’re talking about China, most of the U.S. and Russia and half of Europe against what, a bunch of lunatic ragheads? You’re mad.” Spittle sprayed from the former Commander’s mouth as he shouted out his words.
“I believe you were the Commander of this faculty?” Haziz asked, undoing the latch holding his pistol.
“I was,” he turned his head to face the Saudi officer. “And will be again when the U.S. retakes it – or nukes it.”
Haziz drew his pistol and pressed it against the Commander’s temple. “We only have need of one Commander.”
Commander Bob Bellinger squeezed his eyes tightly shut as he cringed. The Admiral saw him mouth a barely audible prayer as he waited for the bullet that would end his life.
“Louder,” the Lieutenant-Colonel demanded.
Bob Bellinger turned his head to look up at the Saudi. “Huh?”
“Louder. Everyone needs to hear you.” The pistol pressed into the Base Commander’s forehead.
“Oh God…” he faltered. “Our father, who art in Heaven…”
The Lieutenant-Colonel withdrew his pistol, leaving a red circle on the skin. He fired it in the air to get everyone’s attention and to show that he had a live round in the chamber.
“See, when it comes down to the final choice, even you are a religious man, aren’t you?” The Lieutenant-Colonel said holstering his pistol.
The former base commander fell to the ground sobbing.
The Saudi officer then turned to speak to all the horrified onlookers. “As your former President said – you’re either with us or against us. Make your choice. Until then, you are all prisoners of war.”
With a smirk and a beckoning nod to the Admiral, he strode away from the man he had reduced to a blubbering mess.
The Admiral had to grudgingly admit that he had made his point. In the end there were many deathbed conversions. In fact it was often argued that almost everyone became religious when faced with an unavoidable death. He consoled himself with a righteous indignation that although these belated converts would still get to Heaven, they would be seen as lesser in God’s eyes as those who were faithful without such encouragement.
He followed the Lieutenant Colonel into the shade of the compound. The Saudi wore a self-satisfied grin.
“You wish to congratulate me, yes?” his grin widened showing a row of tarnished, yellowed, smokers teeth.
“You know, what he was saying about taking on the whole world? He had a point there.”
The Saudi waved away his concerns. “We have India, Pakistan, the whole Middle-East, Africa, South and Central America.”
This much the Admiral already knew. The news he had access to was local, parochial and highly biased. He wondered if the Lieutenant-Colonel had better sources.
“Russia is under siege from the religious along its southern borders. Already Europe is in turmoil and your country is splintered as the religious are rounded up.”
The last the Admiral had heard was that his home state of California had rejected God. He wondered about his wife and daughter, what it meant for them and what they would be doing. He hadn’t been able to get word to them. For all they knew, he could be dead. He wondered if they would miss him and if they would mourn him privately as well as publically.
“But most importantly,” the Saudi continued oblivious to the Admiral’s thoughts, “we have oil.”
“Oil?”
“Yes, we the faithful have been blessed with all the major oilfields. The Middle-East, Indonesia, Nigeria and Central America.”
As the Admiral thought about it, it did seem as though God had bestowed all the biggest oil-fields to the various people of faith around the world.
“Even Texas,” he thought out aloud.
“Yes,” the Saudi agreed. “All under the control of the faithful. Without the oil, the infidel nations will grind to a standstill. Their weaponry will be useless.”
The Admiral nodded as he reflected on those words. America would have to draw on their strategic oil reserves, at least until they took the Venezuelan oilfields. They’d be gas rationing, something they hadn’t had since the oil crisis during President Nixon’s administration in ’73.
“With your ships, we will keep the Suez closed to the infidel navies. A good strategy, yes?”
“Sure,” the Admiral answered, but his thoughts were on Lieutenant Gray. She had been so worried about actually being involved in a conflict and now it looked like she and the rest of his fleet would be at the front line.
“We are counting on your support, yes?” The Lieutenant-Colonel said it as a statement rather than a question, but he looked to the admiral for an answer.
The prospect of engaging with vessels of former allies worried him. There were so many unknowns and so little intel. He wouldn’t be able to access the NATO or US resources, but the defensive position would have the backing of the Egyptian and Israeli land forces.
Still, he looked forward to the chance to see his devoted mistress, his loyal confidante, his wild lover again. He missed her more than he cared to admit to anyone but her.
She too had not heard from him since the base had fallen and she too would be worried. He’d love to call her as soon as he was allowed, but he’d also like to surprise her.
“It would be best if I were on board with my fleet.”
“That would require a measure of trust on our behalf,” the Saudi said.
“You have my word as a Christian.” The Admiral extended his hand.
The Lieutenant-Colonel looked at it as if were poisoned. “I’d prefer if it were as a fellow Muslim.”
“As a brother in faith?”
The Lieutenant-Colonel’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps you have heard of ‘Ashtiname’, no?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“It is a treaty, signed by Muhammad the son of ‘Abd Allah, the Messenger of Allah, in 626AD, between Muslims and Christians. You should look it up, yes?”
“I will,” the Rear-Admiral said, fully intending to. Any treaty between Christians and Muslims would be hugely beneficial in their fight against the Alien AntiChrist.
“Then, that will suffice, yes.” The Lieutenant-Colonel Haziz shook the Admiral’s hand. “For the time being.”
Chapter 33
John got home tired, his head fuzzy from a day of paperwork following the incident at the East L.A. church.
Eloise had been on his case as soon as he had returned to the company compound with his squads and had finished with the debriefings. In front of his troops, she had been full of praise for his leadership and for that he was grateful, if not a little embarrassed. He couldn’t help wondering if her words were genuine or if part of the ploy to get his cooperation on the other job she wanted him for.
Later, in the relative privacy of the squad leaders’ team meeting, her demeanour changed.
“Don’t be fooled by what I just said to the grunts out there,” she said as soon as all the squad leaders were assembled. “That was just for morale. The whole show was a total effing stuff up.”
John didn’t think it was a good time to remind her of the company’s no swearing policy.
“How the hell did it all go so badly?” She glared at John before shifting her ire to encompass the rest of the room. “The media’s all over it.”
“The transports were late…” Grace spoke up.
Eloise cut her off abruptly with a raised palm. “I am not going into discussions now. I expect it to be in your reports.”
“But…” another squad leader protested.
She met his objection with an icy stare. “About the kindest thing I can say about this whole fiasco is that we might learn from it. I expect you all to incorporate all the possible improvement opportunities in your reports.”
“…transports were late because head office stuffed up.” Grace continued as though Eloise hadn’t spoken.
Eloise, in turn, ignored her and turned her attenti
on to John. He felt as though she was holding him responsible for his deputy’s outburst.
“Put it all in your reports,” she said to everyone, but kept her attention on John, as if writing the reports were a form of punishment in itself. “I will be reviewing our operations. We need to document and implement an effective strategy for future operations.”
It looked like his report was to be a big part of that. A collective groan matched John’s mood.
“While I have you all here,” she continued deliberately ignoring the discontent, “I should update you on some strategic developments that will affect our operations.
“In a move that may well be related to the resistance that some people have shown to the offers that the Alien envoy has offered, the new United Nations has proposed the introduction of a single currency.”
John wasn’t sure he had heard that right. His voice was one of the many that erupted in confusion.
“Yes,” Eloise raised both hands to quieten the room. “It is another step to bringing this world into the galactic community. Our planet will have one currency to trade within the galactic economy.”
A small smile lifted the corners of her lips when she saw that she had their undivided attention. It momentarily softened her stark and otherwise clinical beauty, revealing to John the woman who wanted his child.
“It will mean, of course, that the U.S. dollar, along with all other currencies, will be phased out and replaced by the new coin.”
“Wow,” was all John could say. It would be a huge change. He would have to convert his savings as soon as he could. He should tell Angela about this too, he thought, but would they be part of the new economy?
“Naturally,” Eloise continued, “such changes will be met with more hostility by the less progressive sections of the community, so I would suggest that you consider this when writing your reports.”
With that she dismissed the group and without another word, left. Her personal assistant, Samuel collected up his boss’s belongings and followed her out soon after.