The Unincorporated Woman (43 page)

“Please understand that what I’m about to tell you should be taken with all due seriousness.”

They both nodded their heads solemnly.

“As it now stands, you both have only minutes to live.”

Both men’s eyes widened as quickly as the pallor of their skin changed.

“When you leave this office, the shuttle bay will experience a catastrophic hull breach, resulting in the two of you being swept out into space. Strategically placed detritus will ensure that there won’t be enough left of you to make your deaths temporary.” She was still for a few moments more. “Any questions?”

“In the name of Allah, why?” asked Tawfik, his normally confident voice now tremulous. Brother Sampson remained mute.

“Because of what you are doing
in
the name of Allah, Tawfik.”

Beads of sweat formed at the young man’s brow. “I … I … just lead a few study groups.”

J.D.’s eyes fixed on the men with a cold and impenetrable glare as the lips of her half-burnt face peeled back to reveal her glistening canines. “Yes.” The word came out as one long drawl. Then she turned her head slightly to Brother Sampson. “
Both
of you lead study groups.”

“But … but,” protested Tawfik, “many groups hold religious studies … all through the fleet. It is the way—”

“Way of
what
?” J.D. seethed.

“The faithful reborn,” sputtered Tawfik, regretting having answered even as the words left his lips.

J.D. slowly rose up from her seat without once taking her eyes off the two clergymen. “No,” she berated, “
you,
” the word was delivered as a pejorative, “are not.
I
am, and almost all the others on this ship and in this fleet are. But
you
?” J.D. laughed derisively at Tawfik. “You and Sampson,” she said, turning again toward Brother Sampson, “and we’ll debate your right to carry the ‘Brother’ moniker momentarily, were
born
of the faithful and have followed that path all your lives. You,
Brother,
” she spat, “are one of the few survivors of Altamont, are a vaunted member of the Seacrest raid, and have been sworn to vows in one of the oldest and most respected religious orders in the history of the human race. It is certain that when the members of the order of Saint John gather next, you will … or rather
were
to have been made grand master.”

Brother Sampson remained quiet, head bowed submissively.

“And Tawfik, your mother was arguably our wisest spiritual leader. The name Fawa Sulnat Hamdi is spoken with reverence throughout the Alliance by people of
all
faiths and even those with none at all.” She gave them another withering glare. “So don’t you dare expect me to believe that either of your study groups are just a few among many. The eyes of the
real
newly faithful follow your every move and consider your every action.”

An understanding half smile formed at the corners of Brother Sampson’s lips. “Of course. The words,” he whispered.

“It always is,
Brother
. Your only saving grace and, quite honestly, the only reason you’re still breathing is because of your obvious friendship and respect for each other.
That
at least speaks for religious toleration. But
you,
” she said, turning to Brother Sampson, “you do not speak of the ideas of ethical monotheism, or of aspiring to the grace of your savior, or of the power that a community of faith can have on the life of a lost soul.
You
speak of Amalakites. And though I’m no Bible expert, I know enough to understand
that
clarion call. And
you,
Tawfik, speak of jihad as if it were a shiny new toy to fling about and scare the natives with instead of teaching how to love Allah,
subhanahu wa ta’ala,
as we ourselves would like to be loved by him.”

This time, Tawfik took Brother Sampson’s silent example to heart and remained still, head bowed.

“What do the two of you think will be the consequences of your little ‘study groups’ once filtered throughout the fleet and to the Alliance beyond? Surely you spoke with a purpose. What is that purpose?” When no answer was forthcoming, she pressed further. “It was
not
a rhetorical question.”

“Admiral,” Brother Sampson implored in subdued tones, “you must realize that we have to prepare the faithful for the next phase of the battle. I am a Sovereign Military Hospitaller of the Order of Saint John of Jerusalem, so please understand that this was not an easy choice for me.”

J.D. remained silent, her eyes wary.

The brother inclined his head respectfully and then continued. “But the faithful must be made aware that the enemy is a godless foe, and therefore be willing and able to make any sacrifice and commit any action to first defeat the enemy’s designs on the Astral Awakening, and then and only then to bring the blessings of faith to those who may be receptive.”

“No.”

“But—”

J.D. slammed her clenched fist onto the table. “No! This is not what Adonai wants. It is certainly not what Jesus wants and to the depths of my soul I know it is not what Allah wants.” She turned towards Tawfik. “And then there’s your mother.”

“They murdered my mother,” Tawfik said through pursed lips. “We will never know what she would have thought.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Tawfik. You know as well as I that she would loathe your behavior. No one denies that our enemy must be defeated, or that they can’t be hated for their actions, but they must
never
—I repeat,
never
—be hated for their faith or, worse, their lack of it.”

“I don’t hate them, Admiral, but they are an implacable enemy, and I do believe that only through jihad can such an enemy be defeated. Even the Hadith Sahih al-Bukhari assumes that jihad means warfare. I merely repeat what is commonly understood—”

“—by theologians from the time of the Grand Collapse?”

Tawfik’s wide eyes spoke to his bewilderment. “But who … who else, then?”

“
You,
you idiot! And if you’d bothered digging deeper, you’d know that jihad simply gave sacred meaning to what was otherwise internecine tribal warfare.”

“Yes, but—”

“No, Tawfik. We start anew—now. We choose the interpretations that will make us ancestors of a glorious movement rather than descendants of what has come to be understood as a reprobate one.”

Tawfik’s angry posturing melted away. “I suppose … I suppose there are other Hadiths.”

J.D. nodded and eyed Tawfik cautiously. “There is one in which Muhammad speaks, post battle, of an even ‘greater jihad,’ and when asked what that meant, he answered that it was the struggle ‘against oneself.’ If that is your jihad, Tawfik, then perhaps you live to fight another day.”

J.D. now turned to Brother Sampson. “‘Then the Lord said to Moses, “Write this as a memorial in a book and recite it in the ears of Joshua, that I will utterly blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven.” And Moses built an altar and called the name of it, The Lord Is My Banner, saying, “A hand upon the throne of the Lord!” The Lord will have war with Amalek from generation to generation.’ Exodus 17.”

Brother Sampson nodded appreciatively. “That
is
the teaching, Admiral. Unlike the Hadith, which I understand to be mostly interpretation, the words you spoke are the exact—”

J.D. cut him off. “‘If I find in Sodom fifty righteous within the city, then I will spare the whole place on their account.’ Then Abraham said, ‘Oh may the Lord not be angry, and I shall speak only this once; suppose ten are found there?’And the Lord said—”

“‘—I will not destroy it for ten’s sake.’ Genesis. Chapter 18, verse 32,” finished Brother Sampson.

“I can find ten, Brother,” hissed J.D. “Hell, I could find you millions if you’d bother to quit your muckraking. The story of Amalek is a side issue. Even one of the Jews’ greatest teachers, Maimonides, went to great lengths to qualify it. But that story is by no means the sine qua non of your great faith, Brother—Christ’s resurrection is. So if you—or anyone else, for that matter—claim to kill others in the name of God, then you’d be in direct contradiction to the teachings of Christ, who commands us to love one another, pray for our persecutors, and ultimately be as compassionate as God.” J.D. then removed her withering glare from Brother Sampson and once again regarded the two prisoners in her midst. “Faith was almost destroyed by thinking such as yours. Leaders—horrible Bible-reading, Qur’an-quoting leaders—urged the most horrible actions in the name of Allah. They lied, they murdered, they tortured, they raped, they stole, and all in the name of God until the name of God was reviled as a curse and then finally a joke. Do you think that was an accident?”

She looked at them, almost imploring them to follow the logic with her eyes. “God let faith die, because we stupid, petty humans took one of his greatest gifts and abused it. It is an easy road to walk down. And our enemy is stupidly doing everything in his power to make us follow it. Or maybe not so stupidly. What better way to discredit the Astral Awakening than to have it remind humanity of what was once so very dangerous and perverted about faith? Well, I won’t let you be their patsies and would sooner blow you both out the air lock than let you tarnish a once beautiful faith with the perverted one you’re both attempting to reintroduce. Why do you think we lost our last battle?”

The two men stood silent.

“Also, not a rhetorical question.”

“System failure, Admiral,” assured Tawfik. A modicum of confidence returned to the chief engineer’s voice as he was finally given a question he felt qualified enough to answer. “From what I’ve been told the weapon had a quench and—”

“
I
don’t believe that,” J.D. said flatly.

Tawfik’s mouth hung open and his eyes once again took on the startled look of a hare caught in the path of a wolf. “Sorry?”

“We should have won—
that
battle,
the
war. With all three of those admirals dead and that fleet crushed, the war was ours. But what happened? Admiral Hassan let his hate overcome his reason, his judgment, and yes, his faith. When he began killing all the UHF spacers he could, it wasn’t just rage and anger that drove him, it was loss of faith as well. Maybe he lost what little faith he did have in God or the future or love. More important, I believe that Allah lost faith in him, turned his back on him. Then Zenobia Jackson acted in a manner most unlike a UHF officer, yes? You might even say she was divinely inspired,” J.D. finished in fit of dark humor.

“Begging the admiral’s pardon,” said Brother Sampson, “but I find it hard to believe that God would turn his back on billions of souls for the purported sins of a single man.”

“No, I don’t believe he would. But Omad is emblematic of where the Alliance’s moral barometer is currently heading and reason enough for me at least as to why faith in a higher authority is needed. Without it, the false doctrine of ‘hate your enemy’ prevails.”

“But how could you not hate, Admiral?” asked Tawfik. “They have robbed you of so much.”

“I
do
hate Hektor, Tawfik, and for the death of your mother and countless others, I plan to make this one man pay. In my estimation, he is evil incarnate. A name to be placed alongside the likes of Adolf Hitler, Pol Pot, and Stalin, but I do not hate the UHF nor do I hate most of the spacers who fight for them. I will destroy them all if I have to, but
not
because they are godless. I will do it because they are the enemy and must be stopped. Do you understand the difference? And think before you answer because while a yes may buy you a few more days, I’ll know soon enough what’s in your heart, and the next time there will be no meeting. Only an ‘accident.’ So think a moment. It’s a crucial decision not only for you but quite possibly for the rest of humanity as well.”

Brother Sampson spoke first.

“Thank you for the elucidation, Admiral. I am both ashamed of the speed and, to a certain extent, glee with which I took up the sword and can honestly say am now prepared to spread these words we spoke of today—that the faithful may more fully understand the will of Christ, my Lord and Savior.” Brother Sampson then tipped his head formally.

“Mother was right about you, Admiral.” Tawfik’s eager smile had returned. “I too am humbled by and most willingly accept your teaching,
Alhamdulillah
.”

With a moment of chilling insight, J.D. realized that she could order the two men, and by extension a good portion of the fleet, to do anything she desired, and that they would.
Justin was right,
she thought,
the power to command someone’s will should belong to no human
.

14 Backwards into Hell

Burroughs, Mars

Lying in the office from which he controlled the lives of nine tenths of the human race, Hektor Sambianco stared down silently at Neela Harper, now folded into his arm, sleeping silently.
But,
he thought discordantly,
very few were as effectively controlled as this woman whom I’ve once again so thoroughly had my way with
. Before her shadow audit, Neela had been completely committed to the cause of the Alliance, her marriage to Justin Cord, and her hatred of himself. But over the course of years, her shadow audit had changed all that. Now she only thought of the Unincorporated Man as a mistake, the Alliance as evil, and himself as the heroic figure trying to set everything straight.

Still, every time Hektor looked at her, he knew he’d made a rather large mistake. He let his eagerness to use Neela push the shadow audit faster than he should have. But it had been so excruciatingly pleasurable to stick it to Justin, by sticking it in his wife and to see the proud and haughty Neela Cord do the most degrading things for him—all the while thinking it was her idea. He liked to imagine that a small part of the original Neela was still somewhere inside, screaming to be let out, but as hard as he looked, he never saw it. What really irked was what he now came to realize his impetuousness had wrought. Somehow the Alliance had learned about the shadow audits. Not the details, but enough of the outlines that Neela’s propaganda broadcasts, though useful for the UHF, had had the exact opposite effect on the Outer Alliance. Their enemy now fought with an abandon based on the absolute belief that to surrender to the UHF meant risking the loss of their soul. It didn’t help that their suspicions were true.