The Faithful, North African and Middle Eastern Islamic nations, are plotting to seize the oil resources of the Middle East. By controlling the earth's oil and its major trade routes, they plan to bring the world to its knees. Then, when the entire world is kneeling, the Faithful of Allah will read to them from the Koran, preaching the message of Islam, the True Faith. The Faithful will stop at nothing to achieve their goal. But how far will they go? And how many lives will it cost?

10 Finale

10.14 Saudi Arabia

10.14.1 The Pilgrimage

On the following day, the party, now including Rachel of Zahran and her following, journeyed to Buraydah. They prayed for the lost souls and those who had died in the now radioactive desert. While they were at Buraydah, Rachel's party was increased by one. Captain Tommy Rudman joined his friend Hamal and was quickly melded into their group.

The peregrination went on to Ha-Il and then south to Al-Madinah, the second holiest city in all of Islam. By this time, all six of the new Warriors of Allah had joined the mighty throng surrounding the King. They were bedecked in white robes with silver and gold trim. All six wore their swords in the traditional Arab manner, and each wore their jewels of nobility, proudly.

Not until this time, had they gone into a mosque as a group. The King, his brother, and Rabbi Yahuddi led the small army of the King's followers. Behind them came the senior military, led by General Mahumaddi a-Fayd and the six Warriors of Allah. After them came the masses of followers including Captain Hamal a-Fayd and Lieutenant Aldrich Mohammed.

As expected a huge crowd had gathered. Some in the party expressed concerns for the king's safety and that of his companions, but the King would not hear of any interference with his mission. One incident marred the otherwise solemn processional. A small group of men had gathered at the edge of the road, shouting, “Heretic! Abomination!” As Rachel and her entourage neared them, a small explosion, probably a cherry bomb, erupted from the opposite side of the street. As everyone’s eyes turned towards the sound, a man leapt from the group of hecklers. Shouting, “Abomination!” he eluded Murphy’s grasp, and raced towards Rachel, brandishing a large knife.

Rachel appeared unperturbed. Calmly and with great dignity, she turned toward the assassin. She faced the man, spreading her white robes. The image of her hands blazed on her cheeks as though lit by an inner fire. Brightness seemed to shine from her, and the sun glinted off the jewels on the pommel of her sword and the bright jewels on the sash across her chest.

The man faltered, then halted, then fell to his knees. Slowly, he reached out as a supplicant to touch her robes. Then, he dropped his forehead to the pavement, murmuring, “Allah be praised!”

A woman shouted, “The hands! The hands of Allah!” She dropped to her knees and touched her forehead to the ground.

Others stared in amazement. A few, and then the mass of people fell to their knees, murmuring, “The hands of Allah !”

The procession continued, parting around the prostrate man like a river passing around a rock.

The ultimate test came two days later when the party approached the Mosque of the Prophet. No place on Earth was more holy or more important in the hearts and souls of Moslems throughout the world. The King of Saudi Arabia along with a Rabbi and a Woman were about to enter the Holy of Holies.

Mobs gathered. A few shouted angrily, but none dared to attack her. The story of her encounter with the assassin had spread throughout the kingdom. Only one person, a woman carrying her child, dared to approach. Yet, Murphy and the reinforcements from Bravo Company restrained her. Then, she shouted, “Rahil! Rahil! It is my daughter. Bless her, Rahil, servant of Allah!”

Rachel stopped and considered the woman for just a moment. Then, she turned, approached the woman, and reached her badly burned and disfigured hand towards the child. “Bless you, daughter of Allah, and may all your days be filled with joy.”

Immediately, the child turned to face Rachel. A beatific smile spread across its face.

The woman’s eyes smiled behind her burka. “She has been sickly and has cried her whole, short life. You have blessed her, and now she is at peace in her spirit and her body. Bless you, Rahil, daughter of Allah!”

The King and his party, except for the few Unbelievers like Tommy Rudman and Al Murphy, continued slowly, sedately and calmly into the Great Mosque. After the formal prayers were completed, it was time for the Imam of the Mosque of the Prophet to speak. Instead, he requested the King address his people.

The elderly King led his brother and Rabbi Yahuddi before the congregation of worshippers, and addressed his subjects, "A great war has been fought, and the world lies destroyed. The Followers of Allah invaded His Holy Lands. They despoiled His people and His Kingdom, which has guarded the Holy Places since the beginning of time. The Followers of Allah fought against the Followers of Allah. The war was in Allah's hands.

"Allah, in His Wisdom, sent to us the Unbelievers and the Jews. They did not despoil, desecrate, pillage or sack His Holy Lands. They fought honorably in His Name. Allah's face shone upon them, and He rewarded them with victory. In this, I see the Hand of Allah, clearly.

"The Jews and the Unbelievers also brought new ways among us. They showed us that honor, courage, bravery and faith are not the sole province of the wealthy, the high-born or the Imams. These qualities are possessed by all who believe in Him and honor Him. In this, I also see clearly the Hand of Allah.

"Allah, Himself, has wrought this change. As Allah's Servant, I bow to Him and serve Him. As Allah's Servant, I have brought with me The Six, who have served Him and His kingdom. They are Warriors of Allah, Defenders of Islam, and Nobles of His Holy Realm. Allah has honored them. Since this is Allah's will, it is my will and that of all Islam.

"Allah also sent to me and my brother a friend, a companion and a man of Faith. This rabbi, this Jew, this holy man of the elder faith has been my constant companion for the past month. We have found that our beliefs are the same. We worship the One God, and they honor the Prophet Mohammed. They also remember the elder prophets and honor them. They honor our father Ibrahim. They honor Elijah. They honor Jesus of Galilee. In this I find comfort. It is right that we do not forget those who nurtured the Prophet Mohammed, and who kept the knowledge of the One God alive in the world's darkest times.

"To remind us that Mohammed drew upon the ancient sources and writings, even as Allah blessed him with the insights of the Koran, my friend, Rabbi Yahuddi, will now present one of the most ancient of Holy Writings to reside here in honor within the Mosque of the Prophet. It will lie here, next to the writings of the Prophet, as a Holy Relic, the Word of Allah, and as the source of all the ancient wisdom of our forebears."

Rabbi Yahuddi came forward, singing softly a prayer of thanksgiving. He lifted the Torah high for everyone to see. He kissed it and handed it to the King. The King also lifted it on high. He kissed it and laid it beside the ancient Koran, which was believed to have been written by the hand of Mohammed the Prophet.

"I also tell you," the King continued, "that in the City of Jerusalem there shall be a wondrous new place. It will be called The Edifice of the Book. Within this Holy Land, the Faiths of Islam, Judaism and Christianity will live in peace and harmony. All people of all Faiths will join in this great work. When it is done, a Koran, in the hand of the Prophet Mohammed, will reside there along with the most ancient of all the works of the One God.

"Allah has shown us the road to peace in this world. I shall walk that path, along with my brother and my friend."

10.14.2 The Triumph

In ancient Rome, victorious generals were awarded a great parade, called a triumph. The great man was preceded by his trophies of victory. The included exotic animals, captured prisoners who were to be sold as slaves, weapons seized from the enemy, booty of all kind ... all to mark the great event. Musicians and entertainers enthralled the onlookers. Noble and great persons joined the grand march, to share in the glory. The conqueror rode in a chariot near the end of the parade, where he could receive all the plaudits of the throng. At his side, a slave whispered into his ear, “All fame is fleeting” lest, in his hubris, he should offend the gods.

The great pilgrimage had been taken in all humility by the host that accompanied the three old ones. Throughout their hadj, they had all been solemn and respectful, as was appropriate for pilgrims progressing to the holies place in all Islam. Although many had gathered to watch the procession of the pilgrims, there had been no show of triumph, no marching bands, no military honors. It was only after they had given thanks to their God that the host could celebrate their victory.

The return from holy journey to Mecca rededicating the realm became a great triumph of the holies and the heroes, in which all the subjects of the kingdom could participate. And, so they did. Wherever the pilgrims went, there was a massive parade. Military units, dressed in their finest, preceded the holy ones. Great bands marched, playing marshal music. The great and the noble walked or rode in the parade, receiving the applause, joyous shouts, and ululations of the mighty hosts of the people who had been saved from the horrors of war and defeat.

Marching just ahead of the three, ancient, holy ones were the six surviving heroes. Each has been declared to be a Warrior of Allah, and a Defender of the Faith. Each was now a noble of the realm. Each wore the great gem of their rank. Before each of them, marched their personal attendants, dressed in their most magnificent attire, each bearing the gems, medals and accouterments of their high rank or nobility. One of the six heroes rode in a car, his injuries preventing him from marching. The other five marched with their attendants. As the parade marched, the newly appointed Bey of each of the cities was honored, receiving the gratitude and obeisance of their people.

Yet, it was Rachel who was the center of everyone’s attention throughout the triumph. It was she who received the adulation of the throngs. Thus, by the time the triumph reached the desolation that had once been Zharan, the most populous of all the cities in the realm, the people lining the streets was numbered in the millions. Any attempts at security were overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of well-wishers, believers, and worshippers who had flocked to the city. Yet, amongst them were also those who would do her harm. And, it was they that concerned Warrior of the Prophet, First Sergeant Aloysius Murphy. He had enlisted the aid of the entire Twelfth Infantry in his efforts to provide both the honor guard and the guardians of his comrade in arms, Rachel of Zharan.

However, she had remained unconcerned, almost teasing him whenever he raised the subject of her protection. “Murg-free,” she had said, reaching up to touch his massive shoulder. “I have come to my time. Allah will watch over and protect me. Your place is to honor me, yourself and all our company, with whom we fought. Do not worry about me.”

Yet, he had. He led her personal honor guard. Marching before her, he held aloft the sword of her office within its jewel-encrusted scabbard, so that all could see. To his right and a few steps behind him was newly promoted First Lieutenant Aldrich Mohammed. To his left and a few steps behind was Captain Hamel a-Fayd. Beyond them, closest to the sides of the road, hemming in the crowds and denying them passage was second battalion, led by Major Richard Guys. Surrounding her was the twelve survivors of Bravo Company, led by Captain Penny Austin. Along the sides of the road, arms interlinked were hundreds of police, all to protect one lone fragile figure.

The route into the heart of the city passed by what had once been the shop operated by her father; the only home she had ever known. Like much of the city, the entire block was rubble, unrecognizable as what it once had been. Rachel stopped and knelt on the broken stones that had once been the walls of her childhood home.

A figure dressed in a burka approached, whispering, “Rahil? Is that you?”

Rachel looked up, but didn’t recognize the woman. “Remove your burka, that I may recognize you.”

“I can not! Rahil, it is I, the wife of Taban. Please, let me speak with you.”

Rachel turned to her oldest and dearest friend, and hugged her closely. “But, I do not even know your name. Left up your burka, that I may see you and know you. Much will change in Zharan, that you will be the first to be freed from your oppression.”

Rachel reached for the hem of the burka, but the woman resisted. “It is alright. I am your Bey, and honored by Allah. Listen to my commands, and obey them.”

Slowly, the two of them lifted the hem of the burka, took it over the woman’s head and let of fall to the ground. The woman hidden beneath was slightly taller than Rachel, with dark hair and eyes. She was a handsome woman, who would have merited a large dowry.

Hesitantly, her eyes lifted, and she looked her friend in the face for the first time. “I am Ishira, daughter of Naharim, wife of Taban. My husband was killed defending this very building. Your mother and father died here when the artillery bombarded us. I was injured, but only slightly. I have awaited your return to tell you of our losses and of our families.

“I am now alone and desperate. I have come to you, whom I once succored, seeking your beneficence.”

Rachel smiled at her friend. “No, you are not alone any more. You befriended me long ago, and helped my family even, when, by doing so, you endangered yourself. You shall accompany me, living in my house until you desire to leave. Walk beside me, Ishira, and lift your face so that all can see you, walking proudly under Allah’s great sky.”

Slowly the host neared the great square in the center of Zharan. Once it had been the heart of a great city. Now, it was a barren expanse of devastation, surrounded by destruction almost unimaginable. Yet, Rachael smiled, envisioning it as it would be in times to come.

Her guard step aside, and she marched on alone towards the great platform raised on the western edge of the plaza. There stood the three Old Ones, clinging to each other as they had for all the many weeks of their pilgrimage. As she approached, the Chamberlain stepped from the group, reached for her hand and assisted her up the stairs and towards the dais. He turned her to face the crowd, and raised both his arms in supplication and in rejoicing.

As the crowd cheered, the King and the Rabbi stepped forward. The King’s amplified voice rang out clearly to all the assemblage. “Rahil, I have raised you to the highest ranks of the nobles of my kingdom. I have named you a Warrior of Allah and Defender of the Faith. I have invested you with the Jewel and the Sword of your high rank and nobility, for all to see that they would know that you are favored most highly by your king and by Allah, blessed be his name and that of his prophet, Mohammed.

“I now name you Bey of Zharan, with all the rank, privileges and responsibilities of that high station, and to your heir who you shall name in your lifetime. Allah be praised!”

As the three Old Ones stepped back, Rachael stepped forward to the edge of the platform so that all her subjects could see her clearly. As they cheered, she opened her robes to the hot afternoon sun. A bright light seemed to gather around her, and a great brightness emanated from her illuminating the entire square with such light that all were forced to avert their eyes. Yet, as they did, she seemed to grow, looming above all, a bright star suddenly descended to earth.

Then, she folded her robes around her, and the light vanished. Slowly, she turned and was led from the platform by the King, the Chamberlain and the Rabbi. And so, the reign of the Beys of Zharan began.