Lacuna: The Prelude to Eternity (21 page)

Liao rolled her shoulder as Saeed moved on to the heart-rate monitor, rubbing it down with alcohol. She doubted he would ever get the smell of Avaran out. “You realise she’s a Christian, right?”

“Of course. Although sometimes, throughout history, our two faiths have been at war, far more often they have been at peace. Our disagreements can be worked out. Mohammed the Prophet
alayhi s-salām
declared in a charter that Muslims were to protect Christians until the end of the world. Christians weren’t to be persecuted in Muslim countries and wouldn’t be drafted into the military.

“The words of Mohammed
alayhi s-salām
are sacred to us. This commandment is one I keep alongside all his commandments. The Christians in the TFR
Washington
are our brothers, so says Mohammad
alayhi s-salām
. These Christians may distrust us. They might even hate us. This is irrelevant. The commandment of Mohammad
alayhi s-salām
was simple: they are to be protected. The Koran even prescribes the way Muslims are instructed to live with Christians, what taxes they pay, and all manner of small details.”

“That’s where the devil lives, I hear.”

Saeed chuckled. “Some might say you’re right. Although Christians and Muslims have their holy books—the Bible and the Koran, respectively—they are different. The Bible is written through the prophets. It is their account of events, the word of God as told by them, interpreted by Humans and therefore subject to error. Second hand. The Koran is not. It is, very literally, the exact words of God. There’s much less room for interpretation. Officially.”

“Officially,” Liao repeated.

Commander Iraj was an openly gay Muslim, something his holy book prohibited. They had discussed it at length. Kamal believed that he was made that way and that to defy Allah’s perfect creation of man was blasphemy.

“Well, it is still Humans who
read
the books. That is where the errors creep in. The source material, though, according to faith, is pure.”

Liao digested that. “Interesting interpretation. I’ll have to ask Commander Iraj about that next time we have a chance.”

“You could ask him now,” said Saeed. “He is visiting Miss Rowe.”

An interesting idea. Liao needed to get out of there. Smiling her thanks, she wandered to Rowe’s room.

Iraj was sitting in the chair in Rowe’s room, reading to her from a tablet, a book. At first, she expected—possibly because the subject was on her mind—the Koran, but she saw instead it was a fiction.

“Captain,” said Iraj. “Good evening.”

“Evening,” said Liao. “Who’s on duty?”

“Swing shift,” answered Iraj. “Lieutenant Jiang has the CO’s chair.”

Liao approved. “She’ll make a fine CO one day.”

“One day.”

“What are you reading?” she asked.

Rowe laughed. “A fuckin’ porno.”

Of course.
Liao narrowed her eyes.

Iraj shrugged. “I told her I would read her anything she wanted. She selected… this, some story of cowboys and forbidden love. The protagonists are quite compelling, and the prose is—” He stopped. Rowe was asleep.

Liao’s concerned glance met Iraj’s.

“She keeps doing that,” he said, by way of explanation. “It is worrying.”

Rowe stirred, eyes flicking open. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he said. “It is a medical condition.”

She seemed less than impressed. “Yeah, well, it’s fucking pissing me off.”

“It is your jihad,” said Iraj.

“Jihad?” Liao raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t that mean, you know…”

Rowe drew a finger across her throat. “Chopping people’s heads off like it’s cool?”

Iraj took Rowe’s words in stride, casually laying the tablet down on her bedside table. “A common misconception. All Muslims are expected to wage jihad. It’s not open warfare. It’s not hacking people’s body parts off when they disagree with you. It is
supposed
to be a personal, spiritual struggle, a process by which self-improvement comes. Interpretations differ, but that is the mainstream view. When I was a young man, my struggle was coming to terms with my sexuality. As an adult, it is the survival of the Human race.”

Rowe pulled a face. “Aww, man. Don’t say you like boys. You’re too hot to say that.”

Iraj smiled again. “Thank you. That is kind to say. Still, Mister Aharoni may not be pleased to hear you compliment me so.”

“Oh,” said Rowe. “We’re not together anymore. Not for ages.”

Iraj frowned in confusion. “What happened with you and Alex?”

“I told him I needed space. He told me I
lived
in space. That was funny, but I really did need some.”

“Well… take your time,” Iraj said. “But I did think you were great together.

“You and me would be great together,” Rowe said, to Liao’s chagrin. “I’m just glad you’re not into the head-chopping-off thing.”

“I am not.” His tone was firm. “I believe: live by the sword, die by tetanus. A death in war is not glorious. It’s ignoble, sudden, painful, and you won’t see it coming. War isn’t some heroic duel in the rain to avenge your honour. It’s walking the same fifty-mile patrol route twenty times a day, seven days a week, for a year, and then one day you’re shot in the head for no good reason. The sooner we make peace with the Toralii, the sooner we can get back to living. We can’t bring the dead back to life, but we can continue to live on and honour their memories.”

“Poetic and pragmatic,” said Liao. “There’s the Kamal I know. Although I’m not entirely sold on this ‘make peace with the Toralii’ thing.”

Iraj looked up at her curiously. “What do you expect the final outcome of all this strife to be?”

“Honestly,” said Liao, “I hadn’t given it that much thought. I’d rather get a little bit closer before I think about it.”

“I think it should be at least given some passing effort,” said Iraj. “Our actions today shape the future our children will live in. Even when Earth still stood, there were those who had very warped, twisted views on what they wanted the Human existence to be. I don’t think those people all died on Earth.” He half closed his eyes, recalling something. “When I was a young man, I attended a lecture by a radical cleric. He was genuine, well spoken, western educated… articulate and precise. He advocated, openly and clearly, that taking women as slaves was an acceptable practice after a conquest. Slavery. In the modern era. He wanted a return to the dark ages. I could hardly believe he said those words with a straight face, but I promise you, he did, and most people in the audience agreed.

“Fortunately, life is rarely as simple as the crazy people will make you believe. Islam is a beautiful religion. It is the dogmatic, flag-waving literalists who destroy it, who use it not as a tool for disciplining the self, but one to discipline the world. Instead, I believe that true mastery of one’s fate comes not from screaming at the hurricane to drown it out but from finding a way to live with the noise and find joy in small things.”

“That does sound appealing,” said Liao. “The self-mastery bit. Not the slaves.”

“Mmm.” Iraj settled into his chair. “I like to think of the beauty in it all. Have I told you the story of
Sura Al Isra
,
The
Night Journey
?”

“No. What is it?”

“One of the stories in the Koran.” He took a breath, as though recalling a long story, and began.

“One calm night in Mecca, one year before the migration to Medina, the Prophet
alayhi s-salām
was by the great rock, and an angel appeared to him
,
Jibreel
alayhi s-salām.
The angel Gabriel.

“Within that chapter
,
it says, ‘Through difficulty comes ease.’ The year of suffering was one of the worst years of Mohammad’s life. He was set upon on all sides by disbelief, rejection, and the loss of his remaining family. But because of the calamity that had befallen him, Allah
subhanahu wa ta’ala
was merciful and kind, and the following year brought great bounties to him.

“The roof of the house of the Prophet Mohammad
alayhi al-salām
was opened, and the noble angel Jibreel
alayhi s-salām
came toward him as he slept.

“Jibreel alayhi
s-salām
opened the chest of the Prophet Mohammad
alayhi s-salām
, removed his heart, and washed it with Zamzam water. He then brought a vessel made of gold containing wisdom and faith. He emptied the vessel into the chest of Prophet Mohammad
alayhi s-salām
and then closed it up.

“Jibreel
alayhi s-salām
woke the Prophet
alayhi s-salām
and took him by the hand to the gate of the sacred Ka’bah.

“There the Prophet
alayhi s-salām
saw a white creature, smaller than a mule, larger than a donkey, with wings on each side of its hind legs, and a Human’s face. It was called the Burak.

“The Prophet
alayhi s-salām
mounted the creature
,
and together they flew to Jerusalem
.
This is the part of the story referred to as Al Isra.

“After dismounting, the Prophet
alayhi s-salām
entered Al-Aqsa mosque and prayed.

“Then the Burak took him up to the heavens, flying out of the solar system and into the heavens. They made it all the way to the gates of the lowest heaven. Jibreel
alayhi s-salām
knocked on the gates, took Mohammad
alayhi s-salām
in, and took him to Adam, the first Human. “This is your father,” said Jibreel. “Greet him.” So he said, ‘As-salamu alaykum.’ Peace be upon you.

“This is a fond story for me. So much of the Koran, the Christian Bible, and the Jewish Torah is full of death and misery and suffering—misaimed morals, bigotry, hatred, violence, deception… but not this. Not this. This part is pure. One of my favourite parts. I can only imagine the joy that Mohammad must have felt as he gazed upon Adam and spoke to him amongst the heavens. Imagine meeting Adam, in heaven, for the first time.

“They must have wished to say so much. How long could they spend there, Adam and Adam’s most favourite son? An eternity, to be sure, but this was just the prelude. The beginning.

“Mohammad had someone else to speak to as well. Jibreel carried Mohammad
alayhi s-salām
up to the gates of the second heaven. Therein, Mohammad
alayhi s-salām
met Jesus
alayhi s-salām
and John
alayhi s-salām
, or John the Baptist. They exchanged greetings, as cousins, and moved to the third heaven. There they met Joseph. On to the fourth, where he met Aaron, brother of Moses. And in the sixth, Moses himself.

“In the seventh heaven, Mohammad met God himself. Allah
alayhi s-salām
also took the Prophet
alayhi s-salām
to Hell, where visions of the future were revealed to him. He saw people receiving different punishments for different sins.

“The Prophet
alayhi s-salām
then returned home, finding his bed still warm.”

“Spooky,” said Rowe.

“Interesting.” Liao digested the story. Kamal was an amazing storyteller, his words always full of passion and fire, but that one was calm. Nice. What he’d said was true. There was nothing there that was harmful. Simply a pretty story about a man who met God. “Thank you again, Kamal. The story was excellent.”

“It was my pleasure,” Iraj said. “It is a shame that Earth did not have the same view as I do. Take the problems that plagued the Middle East, for example. Everyone always looked here and there for the good guy and the bad guy. That is only natural, after all. In every struggle, everyone wants there to be a good guy. Unfortunately—and this counted for almost every war that happened there—it just wasn’t that kind of war. No strong-jawed heroes saving the day at the last minute. Only two people struggling over a patch of dirt because they felt they were owed it.” His face became a visage of disgust. “In the end, the apocalypse arrived before Israel and its neighbours figured it out. Now, apart from the Iranians on the
Tehran
and the Israeli fighter pilots on the
Washington
,
Beijing
, and scattered around the fleet, every single one of them is dead. Jerusalem is a barren wasteland, as is the entire planet. We never even got halfway to solving our problems before some greater force came and wiped us out. Good job.”

“Can’t say I disagree.” Liao stretched out her biological arm. “Anyway,” she said. “I just wanted to check in on you. I should go actually be a captain for a bit, especially if you’re here.”

“Good luck,” said Iraj. “Jiang has the conn. I’ll be here if you need me.”

Liao had barely gone ten paces beyond the door when Captain Williams, his scarred face full of worry, approached her. “Captain,” he said, “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I’m fine,” said Liao. “Shaken, but fine. And Avaran’s dead… for real this time.”

Williams seemed relieved. “Good news, Captain, but I meant something else. The
Knight
’s returned.” His expression darkened as he held out a piece of paper. “With a message.”

She glanced down at its words:

WE ACCEPT YOUR TERMS.

C
HAPTER
VIII

Prisoner Exchange

*****

Cargo Bay

TFR
Knight

Velsharn L1 Lagrange point

E
VERY
PREPARATION
HAD
BEEN
MADE
. The
Knight
was teaming with soldiers. Nerve gas canisters were deployed in critical junctions along the ship, and the Humans involved were inoculated—a painful injection which Liao resented but was grateful for. It disguised the itching on her arm.

The construct spun a plasma-pistol add-on for her arm, and Saeed installed it. Liao could not tell the difference, apart from a difference in weight.

Saeed cautioned her not to activate it, and she took that advice to heart.

In the cargo bay, two full rehearsals were performed, including fire drills and boarding and counterboarding actions. The prisoners were restrained by heavy manacles.

If the Toralii fired on them, the entire fleet would annihilate the hostile ship. If more ships jumped in, preset nukes would detonate, destroying them. If there were any signals, they would be jammed immediately.