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Post by mongoose on May 5, 2008 1:07:10 GMT -5
"I understand you're in a very difficult situation." Kihn replied to the desperate client sitting before him in the office just off the Anchorage Backpacker's Inn lobby. The place had the air of newness, of professionalism, of hope and upward mobility. A stark contrast to many of the patrons that first entered the lobby, but positive changes occurred in many before they left. Hopefully this client would be one of those success stories.
"There are certain things we can do here, community contacts we can refer you to, to help with some of those things. But first, and this is key . . ."
Just then his blackberry buzzed. He normally would wait to check the smart phone until he'd finished developing a plan with this client, but something within urged him to act now. Strange.
"Uh, I'll get to that. Hold on a moment." It buzzed again. A second text message. Few people used this method to communicate with him, which meant it might, indeed, be urgent. He pulled the palm sized device from its holster on his hip, turning it slightly to read the screen.
"1 new text message from SG" His wife, Sue Gavin. She'd insisted on keeping her last name in honor of a long and noble paternal line. Her messages were either brief, or imminently pertinent. She was that sort of person. He pulled up the message. "It's happened." Vague enough to avoid raising any red flags in the offices of the powers that be, but Kihn knew it could only mean one thing. All the talk amongst those in the know was about this, especially the "watchers." Short for the ministerial office of the "Watchers on the wall," they were a loosely associated group of Christians, more or less gifted or anointed to spot and identify what was being done by either their Lord, or their enemies, before it actually hit the Church.
Kihn was a watcher, or more precisely a gate keeper. One who would guard the church with prayer and teaching. His anointing was to take direction either directly from his Lord, or from him through others, and declare the Word, with power, where it was needed most. His wife was one of those watchers with a special prophetic gift and he'd learned not to doubt it when she communicated in such a matter of fact way. Given where the winds of the social/political/economic climate were blowing, and this new word from his wife, who was also in the news industry, he could only conclude one thing: "The abomination that makes desolate", referenced in Matthew 24, had been set up in the temple in Jerusalem. That, in and of itself, signaled to the watchers, gatekeepers, and those who listened to them that the "Great Tribulation" had begun. How long it would be before it reached Anchorage AK remained to be seen.
He pulled up the second text message. "Looks bad. Get out, now. Plan A."
"Plan A" had been drawn out in intricate detail over the last three years, but never actually practiced. To practice it in advance would be to risk detection and compromise of the participants and the plan itself. In that moment, everything went from theoretical, prophecy, will happen sometime in the future, to a clear and present danger to Kihn and Sue's survival, along with that of most of their loved ones.
Kihn placed the smart phone back in its sheath, his face a blank mask, and looked back to his client. The man was homeless, penniless, his tools stolen, his vehicle empty of gas, and his back had been bothering him to the point that he could no longer make a living by manual labor. His problems now looked relatively minor compared to what Kihn expected to deal with in the next hours and days.
"Sir, I suggest you take whatever you have with you, and get as far away from town as you can, now." Kihn admonished him. "I need a moment. Please step outside." He waited for the frazzled client to comply, albeit with much hemming and hawing, and turned to his computer to begin implementation of "Plan A."
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Post by torainfor on May 5, 2008 12:16:33 GMT -5
I think it would run the gamut. My uncle would gather his wife, boys, hunting rifles, shot guns, and laser-guided school-bus destroyers, shout out "I told you so!" to the world, and flee to the mountains where he has proved before he can survive with only his hatred of UN black helicopters for warmth.
My sister would discover some underground counter-culture, filled with tattooed and pierced punks and white-faced goths (real goths; not wannabes) who accept Christians as the new homosexuals. She would then settle in her role as "Mom" and do her best to save their souls.
And you'd have very, very many who abandon the faith in the name of the comforts of home and their family's "security."
It would be interesting to see first what kind of an upheaval took place to get America to that point. Using the National Guard is all well and good, but in the military (especially the Air Force) there is a strong Christian presence. There's also that strange and alien thing that is the South's relationship between church and politics.
I could maybe see it as a backlash. If the political arm of conservative Christianity did come to power in a very significant (and extreme) way. Such that every non-Christian, as well as any Christian with a shred of rationality, saw those "Christian leaders" gain the power they always wanted and were horrified by what they did with it.
Unless the political scene changed very quickly, I suppose most would be kind of caught by surprised and unprepared--like a frog on a pan that's heated gradually. Or the six million Jews who didn't make it out of Europe.
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Post by mongoose on May 5, 2008 16:37:01 GMT -5
((And, of course, many books could be written about just how all these events come to pass, what the set up is, etc. For this story, though, I'm just assuming the climate swung this direction. I'm not worried about why or how, just how the characters respond. Let's continue any discussion in the other thread, eh? *smiles*))
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Post by mongoose on May 6, 2008 21:53:05 GMT -5
((I apologize if this includes too much telling, but it's just too fun to write, and for me, to read this kind of stuff. And this isn't supposed to be published, anyway. *grins*))
Kihn had about five minutes, give or take one depending on traffic and such. Although he'd made a point to keep a low profile after his retreat from public life into the ministry and business ownership, he did have the opportunity to listen to a dispatch call and time the official response.
In those five minutes his primary concern was to eliminate his trail, and then to put as much distance as possible between himself and them. The virus was already in place on the drive, and simply had to be activated. The electro-magnet attached to the CPU, with all flash drives close enough to it that there'd be nothing left of use on them. A code punched into the keypad on his filing cabinet, and all his hard copy information went up in flames. The few false identification papers he would need to establish his new cover life were already secured in his "go-bag," a carry over from his black ops days, which leaned against the wall beside his desk. The few papers left on his desk went into the shredder, and the books would have to remain.
He grabbed his go bag, load bearing vest, jacket and hat and walked from his office. On his way out he paused at the desk of his operations manager. "It's begun. I suggest you get as far away as you can, as quickly as you can. The authorities will be on their way."
As if he had prophesied it into existence, the sirens made themselves heard in the distance. He threw the momentarily bewildered man a floppy salute, and marched past him headed for the service exit.
It only took Carlos a moment to catch up mentally. He was a new Christian, having waited years to commit himself after Kihn, even as close as he'd remained in friendship. He wasn't obsessed with this whole end times prophecy thing, like he believed Kihn to be, but he did know how to follow his leader. Having been on a number of black ops missions with Kihn it only took him a moment to grab his own things, including all he was likely to need for a couple of days in the backcountry, in a pinch, and hurried out the door after his commanding officer.
"Kihn. I'm right behind you. Remember the last time you tried to lose me?" He caught up to the smaller Native American quickly. "It didn't work so well for you, now did it? Either time. When you gonna get it through your head, I'm with you till the end, hesse?"
"Fine," Kihn replied "But this is it. Mission mode. And we have at least one civilian to secure, but we have to keep it small and covert, understood?"
"WhooAh Sir!" Older though they both were, it was a thrill to be back in the game. Pity they couldn't kill the bad guys any more. It would make it all far more difficult. Then again, to kill someone was to draw attention to yourself, and many of their missions were predicated upon minimizing the attention they drew. As a former co-worker used to say, "We have the technology for that."
When re-building the hostel, Kihn ensured the exits were clear and accessible to people on foot, but not to cars and trucks. He knew the rout by heart, and was two blocks from the hostel before the agents began to surround the place. He and Carlos were clear. Now, if the feds were to capture them, they would have to set up a perimeter that even the two ex-special forces operatives could not penetrate, which would be a significant challenge in itself. Then they'd have to account for the "underground" network the watchers and gatekeepers had established over the last few years. There were rumors the feds had attempted to infiltrate their ranks, but with discernment of spirits and words of knowledge as gifts often used by the members, those attempts proved far less productive than usual.
"ATMs. Get all you can without stealing. Remember, God will provide, and there's no need to violate the ten." Kihn said when he was sure they were safe for a moment. "Meet at the Muldoon bus depot in four hours. 1 hour window, and then you get out. And watch the text messages." Carlos nodded, threw a salute, and ambled off, looking for all the world like one of the many backpacking tourists thronging the streets.
Over the next three hours Kihn made his way from one ATM to another, withdrawing just one or two hundred dollars at a time. He made a point of keeping his head down, face shadowed by his floppy hat, and shades covering his eyes. He wore thin gloves so as to avoid leaving finger prints. There was no need for anyone to know that he was the one who accessed the accounts.
When he found one of the accounts frozen, he assumed a flag would go up at a monitoring station somewhere, and the feds would descend upon the site. He moved on and began cashing out credit and debit cards established under a relatively new cover ID. By the time he had all the ATMs would give him, he was $5,000.00 richer. A purchase of a cheap knife at a local shop broke a twenty, and he boarded a bus heading east to the Muldoon Transit Center.
The place would probably be watched, but Carlos knew how to avoid being seen, and Sue was not yet a priority target. Kihn wouldn't worry about them, instead stopping into the Fred Meyer just short of the transit center to stock up on the groceries that couldn't sit in the go-bag indefinitely, but which they would need over the next few days.
Exiting the mall, he glanced around the perimeter, noting the FBI presence surveiling the bus stop. "2nd stop" he texted his wife and his former communications sergeant. He tightened his pack straps and headed around the corner, across the parking lot, and into the greenbelt beyond. One of the reasons he loved this city of Anchorage, and chose to remain here after leaving politics.
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Post by newburydave on Jul 27, 2008 1:45:33 GMT -5
Sahiem Al-Ubaid Ibn-Husayn sat back in the plush leather seat. He looked around at the absolute luxury that surrounded him and shook his head. He remembered the taste of the abject poverty of his childhood. The air of the refugee camp outside of Jerusalem had tasted foul. Now he inhaled the rich flavor of the fine wood, leather upholstery and the flowered scent of his fourth wife's perfume as she approached. Allah was good to him.
"Husband, may I clear away your trays? The pilot has told us to secure for landing."
Sahiem turned his head to look his youngest and newest wife, "Yes Jamila that would be good."
He turned back to his companion and smiled across the table at his young aide, Amin Al-Husam Ibn-Hajib, "Amin you really should follow up with the old sheik. His youngest daughter is still unmarried and he told me he would look favorably on you as a son-in-law. It would make a powerful alliance which would enhance our position with the Brotherhood."
The younger man bowed his head, "Emir, you know I am but a humble man without the wealth to support a wife. Besides how can I become a shaheed and enter paradise with a wife to care for?"
The Fasten Seat Belts sign illuminated and the gong sounded in the cabin. From the galley they could hear Jamila quickly closing the cabinets and stowing the food containers. Both men buckled themselves in. The click of Jamila's seat belt sounded from the galley area. Their command pilot was a former US Naval Aviator who had flown FA-18's. They had the bruises to prove that he only turned on the seat belt signs when they were needed.
Sahiem sighed, "Amin Al-Husam, my Faithful Sword; how little do you understand of the ways of Allah. You reach paradise by faithfully following the instruction of your Emir not by blowing yourself up. The time of the fiery Shaheed's is over for us; now that the Great Satan has knelt before Allah we have world dominion in our grasp.
Amin regarded his mentor thoughtfully, "If not a Shaheed then what part shall I play in this new world order?"
Shaiem chuckled, "There will be much opposition. We need faithful troops and leaders in the Army of the Faithful. It is your duty to Allah to take wives and rise up a host of sons, little Faithful Swords, to lead the new legions of the faithful on this continent."
"But Emir I am not wealthy--"
"I am your Emir, Amin, take a wife and I'll see to your wealth."
"Effendi, you are too kind," Amin bowed his head again.
"I am not kind," Sahiem said, waving away the compliment, "I am practical. You're with me as my aide on this first mission to North America because I've been watching you. You have the intelligence and the steel in you to become a great leader in the Inspectorate."
"But Emir, there are so many with much more experience than I."
"Yes, experience at meeting failure with hopeless gestures. Watch me, learn the ways of the Religious Inspectorate and I will make you my Captain of the North American Inspectorate. I need a Faithful Sword here who can think and who has street smarts."
"I will try to be worthy of your trust Emir."
Sahiem leaned across the table and clapped the younger man on the shoulder, "You're like me Amin. You come from the mean streets of the refugee camps. We need your survival skills and the cunning you developed while you were growing up. There are many here who cling to the Christian blasphemy. We start today by rooting out their top leaders first."
True to the warning lights the Dassault Falcon X Tri-Jet stood up on it's right wing in a tight turn as it cut into the landing pattern ahead of a commercial flight. They settled into final approach to the Anchorage airport. The priority codes on the transponder of Sahiem's private jet allowed him to jump the queue and cut into the normal landing sequence in any airport on earth. The sound of something tumbling across the galley showed that Jamila had not secured everything back there.
The landing gear thumped down as the business jet settled toward the runway. The turbulence from the heavy immediately in line ahead of them buffeted them slightly. They flared, settled onto the runway and rolled out.
*******
The corporate aviation service was on the opposite side of the main runway from the main terminal. This suited Sahiem perfectly. The arrival of his Jet with the UNHCR insignia and the seal of the newly created Religious Inspectorate had caused a media stir in London when they stopped to refuel. It was best not to give any notice to the quarry that they were here and that the pursuit was begun.
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Post by mongoose on Jul 27, 2008 21:04:52 GMT -5
Five minutes later Kihn passed the second stop after the Muldoon transit center, noting that his wife and comms sergeant were waiting there. They didn't appear to know each other. Good. Kihn kept walking, heading north along Muldoon road. He was in a business/residential area zone here, trailer parks and cookie cutter two story houses interspersed with small strip malls populated by gun shops, bars, churches and anyone else that needed retail space. Two blocks further on he stopped and waited along with two other commuters.
Soon the bus pulled up and he boarded, carefully maneuvering his pack to avoid hitting people or seats as he paid the fare. five dollars now for a day pass. You couldn't stop inflation, even with the people mover system it seemed, no matter what happened in the government. He allowed his gaze to pass over his Sue and Carlos, respectively, each in different seats, but did not make more than cursory eye contact. Spies could be anywhere, and some were trained to pick up on minor cues. As if the three loaded backpacks weren't enough of a give away. But then, this was Anchorage. Every fifth bum carried a large backpack, not to mention all the tourists, hunters and fishermen. There were, he now noticed, two other travelers on board the 77 heading north and east to Eagle River and beyond.
Kihn took his place awkwardly two seats in front of the other two, and sat there silently, his eyes flicking around behind his shades, assessing the other passengers, the condition of the windows, the demeanor of the driver, the location of the radio. It was all habit, but the information was stored away for future reference.
The bus exited the "surface level" Muldoon bulevard, and pulled into commuter traffic on the Glenn Highway heading east toward the Chugach mountain range. They soon left the malls and communities serving the military bases behind, passing foothills carpeted in mixed spruce birch forest. These woodlands climbed to about two or three thousand feet, half way up the slopes of the front range of the Chugach mountains that back all of Anchorage to the East, as far north as the native village of Eklutna. Much of that land closer to Anchorage was owned and used by Fort Richardson and Elmendorf Air Force Base, and Kihn and company would skip those lands if they could. Beyond to the North and East was Chugach State Park, and beyond that, Chugach National Forest. In Theory they could walk all the way into Canada from here without hitting another road or other sign of civilization.
They had just passed the first exit to Arctic Valley, host to a popular golf course near the highway during the summer, and entry level alpine ski area higher up during the winter. "Get off," said the voice in Kihn's head. He raised an eyebrow. "That you Lord?" "Yes. Get off now." The internal dialog having come to a close, Kihn hefted himself back to his feet. His pack probably weighed near half his body weight. He could easily have gone with less, but some of this was supposed to keep his wife comfortable, and provide for their defense.
He slowly approached the driver, keeping his balance against the rails that ran along the ceiling. Carlos rose and placed himself and his pack between Kihn and the rest of the passengers, obscuring both their vision and their path to Kihn. Sue scooted to the edge of her seat.
"I'll need to be getting off here." he said quietly. "Please pull off the highway, onto the frontage road there."
"Sorry. Can't do that. You'll have to wait for the next stop."
Kihn opened one of the pockets on his hunting vest, pulling the grip of a large pistol part way out. "Sir, I think you can, and will pull off the highway here."
The driver had served his time in the military and recognized the tone of voice before he glanced over and saw the gun. He gulped, and complied with the request. "I wouldn't say anything to the passengers. Most will only think it curious. You can go back to your normal rout once we're off. Understood?"
"Yes sir." said the driver as he pulled over to a place where the brush came almost to the side of the road.
"Thank you. Sir. You will be rewarded." He turned slightly to Carlos as he backed down the stairs. "Radio." He said. Carlos nodded, and as he also exited, he efficiently detached the bus' radio from its housing and carried it with him as he backed out, smiling a little and throwing a sloppy salute. Sue hurried after them and they plunged together off the road and into the brush. No one dared to ask Kihn why they had left the planned rout so quickly and with so little warning. Sometimes it was like this with him, especially since he started hearing from God.
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Post by newburydave on Aug 1, 2008 10:16:52 GMT -5
Sahiem entered the Executive Air service building with Amin and Jamila in tow. Two large men in distinctive Islamic dress were waiting inside in the small executive lounge.
"Salam, Inspector General Sahiem, we trust your journey was smoothed by the hand of Allah."
" Assalamu alaikumm; Hafiz, Abdulah; yes Allah, may his name be praised, gave us a very easy journey. Has your time here been profitable?"
The two men joined Sahiem and his party as they walked toward the exit to the street.
"Yes Inspector General, we have made all of the contacts as you instructed, and the religious compliance enforcement team has been assembled. We began operations just this morning but we failed to apprehend the ringleader called Kihn or his wife Susan at their homes."
"It is well my brothers. Allah teaches us patience; if we track this one he will no doubt lead us to others. What assets do we have in place?"
"We have a special Liaison to the local FBI office and he detailed twelve agents to work with us. Our contact at the NSA has put reconnaissance satellite time at our disposal. The military religious command officer at Elmsdorf Air Base has put five MK II Predator UAV's from at our disposal with special life sensor surveillance packages on board."
"Youu have done well my brothers."
Hafiz opened the doors and scanned the area between the building and their armored limousine. There were no obvious threats. Hafiz and Abdulah preceded Sahiem out the doors, alert for any threat against their Emir and friend.
They settled into the limousine, Sahiem leaded forward toward the front seat, "Hafiz, why are you being so cautious my brother?"
Hafiz turned toward Sahiem, "There have been no riots or mob violence here in Alaska Emir, but much of the Southwestern US is in open rebellion over the Religions Anti-Discrimination laws. It is not safe for anyone dressed as a Muslim to appear on the streets there."
"These are the birth pangs of the new millennium brothers," Sahiem said, "We must be patient and valiant soldiers of Allah to establish the universal Caliphate in this land too."
*******
The limousine pulled up in front of a modest building on a quiet side street which was decorated in middle eastern style. The driver turned to Sahiem, "This is the Mosque that you asked about Inspector."
"Thank you my friend can you wait for us?"
"Of course, I am your driver for the duration of your stay."
Sahiem led the other four into the small mosque. A tall austere looking Imam strode out of the main prayer room embraced Sahiem, "Sahiem, my friend! It is so good to see you again. Allah, may his name be exalted, has prospered you greatly from what I hear. Inspector General for Religious Compliance eh? The number three man in the Religious Inspectorate? You have done well since you were a ragged youth in my Madrassa."
"Imam Hajib, you flatter me, it is the mercy of Allah, may his name be praised, that I have been given such responsibility." Sahiem held his old mentor at arms length and looked him up and down, "You don't look a day older than the last time I saw you."
The Imam laughed, an infectious laugh that made people want to laugh along with him, "Sahiem, you are still very skilled at flattery; I guess that investment we made in your education was well placed. I rejoice to see you doing so well. But please, please, introduce me to your friends," he said looking at Amin, Hafiz and Abdulah. Jamila had slipped off to the women's prayer room.
"This is Amin Al-Husam Ibn-Hajib, my aide and protégé," he said drawing Amin forward to meet the Imam. "I met him in our old refugee camp just five years ago, he has just completed his higher schooling at the Islamabad university. This is his first mission for the Inspectorate." Amin bowed respectfully.
Imam Hajib caught him up and embraced him, "Ah, a clan brother, good, good; and what a good name for the clan of Hajib, Faithful Sword, a good name indeed for these times. You are most welcome here Amin. We must talk later, eh?"
Sahiem regarded his old mentor and his young protégé, "The reason I sought you out Imam is that I hoped you would be able to give Amin some of your special spiritual counsel. We need greater spiritual power for our mission and I think he is ready. Can you meet with him after the Asr this afternoon?"
The call of the Muezzin echoed through the foyer and the streets around the mosque, "My friend I will make the time, but come, now we must go to prayer." He led the way into the well appointed main prayer hall.
In the first Rak'ah as Sahiem prostrated himself in the Sajdah he felt the power begin to flow into him. _Oh come Allah and enlighten your faithful slave,_ he thought. He felt his consciousness slip away from his body ascending up into the heavens. The terrain around Anchorage opened up to his enhanced vision like a living topo map. Bright spots like glowing flames dotted the inhabited areas, the living spirits of men and women.
He was just settling into search mode when a giant hand slammed him back into his body.
The Imam's smile died on his lips as he saw the convulsions of his star pupil. Something had gone dreadfully wrong in his trance state. He must investigate.
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Post by mongoose on Aug 5, 2008 18:12:52 GMT -5
"What was that all about?" Susan seemed somewhat frazzled, but was making a valiant effort to keep it together and be reasonable as they stopped to rest in a tiny clearing between larger birch trees after an hour of bushwhacking away from the frontage road. Kihn had done his best to train her in as much tradecraft as he could, sending her to others where she wouldn't receive his teaching, but she was still his wife and partner and not a subordinate. Thus she was quicker to speak her mind than Carlos, though he would often question Kihn's choices to himself.
Kihn just shrugged, pointing upward briefly. God had told him to. He hadn't bothered to ask why. When Susan glared at him a bit he finally spoke in a low voice barely above a whisper, "Road block or something. Don't know. HE said to." She considered, then nodded her understanding and took her first bite of the cliff bar he'd handed her.
She was only two more bites into it when she stopped, her face turning two shades paler than usual. She reached out to touch Kihn's arm. "We need to pray!" She mouthed the words, having caught on to his noise discipline routine. Kihn nodded and motioned Carlos in. The three of them put their heads together as Kihn led out, barely whispering.
"Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us sinners. We commit ourselves to your ever faithful hand as we begin this journey. Jesus told us to flee to the hills when we saw the abomination that makes desolate set up in the temple, and so it is, and so we have. You've been faithful to us always, and shown us favor so far, and we thank you. Now we ask that you would stay with us, guiding us by your hand." He paused for a moment, calling to mind the words of an ancient celtic prayer attributed to St. Patrick. "We arise today Through God's strength to pilot us: God's might to uphold us, God's wisdom to guide us, God's eye to look before us, God's ear to hear us, God's word to speak for us, God's hand to guard us, God's way to lie before us, God's shield to protect us, God's host to save us From snares of demons, From temptations of vices, From everyone who shall wish us ill, Afar and anear, Alone and in multitude.
We summon today all these powers between us and those evils, Against every cruel merciless power that may oppose our bodies and souls, Against incantations of false prophets, Against black laws of pagandom Against false laws of heretics, Against craft of idolatry, Against spells of witches and smiths and wizards, Against every knowledge that corrupts the body and soul."
He continued in his own words, "We bind these powers to ourselves today, seeking and following you, Lord, with all our mind, heart, soul and strength. It is to you we look in time of trouble, for you are our ever present help, and it is you who are worthy of all honor, glory, power and praise. Be glorified in us, we pray, and let your kingdom come and your will be done in us as it is in Heaven. In Jesus name. . ."
Carlos and Susan added their own, shorter prayers in turn, Susan focusing for a time on her praise of God for His greatness. Though they might be in a time of trouble and hardship, still He was God, and God alone, and so He would remain for all of eternity. Nothing in their circumstances could change that, and whatever their circumstances, he was worthy of praise. She finished with a brief description of the picture she received of an eagle soaring above a storm. Kihn offered a final thanks, asking all these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Son of God, and they parted, relaxed smiles gracing their faces.
Six minutes later Kihn got their attention, tapped his wrist and held up two fingers. Leading by example he stood slowly, surveying the surroundings as he did so. No immediate threats. He tightened his vest straps, positioned the shotgun he'd removed from the pack's side pocket, and hoisted his pack onto a bent knee. Carlos moved to stabilize the 80 pound load while Kihn twisted into the shoulder straps. He then returned the favor for Carlos and then his wife, who took a moment longer getting ready.
Susan pointed at the weapon critically and shook her head. They had discussed weapons before, and agreed that they must not attempt to harm their enemies. Kihn just smiled and carefully removed a small pepper packet from the box magazine, showing it to her. She turned it between her fingers, appreciating its ballistics, judged it acceptible, and returned it.
The round was a product of the R & D department of a security firm run by an old college of Kihn's, one of several in their non-lethals line. It looked like a normal slug, but the round that impacted the target would not penetrate far enough to do any real damage, especially if they wore any kind of protective clothing. The impact would hurt, even knocking them backwards, but the case would break up upon impact. The real punch lay in the combination of powdered peppers and other noxious substances contained within. When a round burst against a target's chest and the powders hit their nervous system the combined effect would knock them out almost instantaneously. They would stay down long enough, and feel sick enough for a long enough time afterward that their immediate threat to their targets would be minimized.
Susan was a woman, but not one to scoff at when it came to running around the mountains. A national champion in the Biathalon and headed toward international competitions, she maintained her fitness in the off season with roller skiing, cycling, swimming, mountain running and adventure racing. She would sooner carry her own 60 pound pack and sleep under the stars with three other dirty backpackers than sit at tea party with girlfriends and chat about domestic responsibilities. It was a frequent point of contention; her tendency toward independence vs. Kihn's tendency to accept traditional gender roles. He wouldn't have it any other way. His wife would have to be strong willed to keep him from treating her like an army private, however hard he tried to view her as an equal. She had to prove herself to him to gain his respect, and Susan had done so a dozen times over. They had their rough times, and arguments that once in a very long while came down to a very tightly controlled sparring match, but they'd settled into a comfortable way of relating to each other. Most people wouldn't understand, but it worked, and their love remained unquestioned through it all.
The three started back into the brush, now angling south toward Arctic Valley Road, keeping to the east of the golf courses. The going was slow, working their way around and through the alder thickets, trying to make as little a disturbance as possible. Backpackers tended to be smarter, following the paths of least resistance, roads, creeks and ridgetops. They also tended to be easier targets for trackers and snipers. So Kihn and company struggled through the brush rather than staying on any of the many paths that cut this way and that between the expensive houses on the one side, and the golf course on the other. They wore the same clothes they'd had on in town, when the alert went out, and so would not draw particular attention to themselves should a local spot them, but they still wanted to avoid being seen if possible. Even an unremarkable sighting could be reported.
Reaching the brush alongside the two lane highway leading into the mountains, they waited for nightfall, resting against their packs out of sight. They took it in two hour turns to keep watch, but nothing of note came by unless you counted the two snow shoe hares and five squirrels that scampered across the road over the next several hours.
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Post by newburydave on Aug 14, 2008 17:24:11 GMT -5
********* Sahiem slowly came back to normal consciousness. The terrifying jumble of sensations that had marked the end of his oracular vision this time had totally disoriented him. _Why had Allah allowed this? None of his other searching visions had ever ended like this one. Always in the past he had been able to zero in on his prey before the end of the second Sajdah in time to rise for the fraternal salutation or Tasleem that ended the Rak'ah. The Imams at the Mosques where he worshipped understood his gift and didn't bother him when he remained prostrate as the others rose from the first Sajdah. But this was a new experience._
Imam Hajib knelt beside Sahiem, Jamila knelt on the opposite side of her husband, concern etched on her face. "Forth wife of Sahiem, has he ever suffered an attack like this before?"
Jamilla bowed her head respectfully, "No Imam, not since we have been married. His first wife told me that he would sometimes prostrate himself at unusual times and stay that way for long periods. We counted ourselves blessed of Allah to have such a devout husband, but nothing like this has ever happened."
The Imam looked up at Amin, Hafiz and Abdulah, "Has the Inspector General ever experienced such convulsions as these to your knowledge brothers?"
The three inspectors exchanged a glance. Amin spoke, "Truly Imam, we have never seen him suffer from this kind of seizure before. Sometimes he will be prostrate for up to an hour in what he calls a seeking trance, but never has such a trance ended like this. "
Hafiz spoke, "Perhaps it is the strain of travel, the jet lag. He and Amin just flew in from Islamabad with only a one hour layover at Beirut and a thirty minute layover at Heathrow. Crossing that many time zones may have disoriented him."
Jamila cast a sidelong glance at Hafiz, _Was he deliberately trying to defuse the concern surrounding my husband? _ she thought, _I'm sure he knows something that he isn't saying. I wonder what it is?"
Sahiem opened his eyes and looked up into the eyes of Jamila. "Wife, where am I?"
"Oh Sahiem, you're awake, praise Allah. The brothers have carried you into Imam Hajib's office. We sent for an ambulance."
Sahiem sat up slowly as the room slowed its revolutions around him. "What happened?"
"My brother, you slipped into a trance as you prostrated yourself in the first Sajdah," the Imam said, "I was pleased to see that you still exercise the power. But then before the end of the first Sajdah you suddenly began to convulse. I was fearful for you."
"Why did you fear my teacher? Surely it is something you have seen before."
"Oh I have seen such convulsions before, but only in those whom Allah counted unworthy of such close fellowship. My brother I must inquire; exactly what did you see in your vision before you fell back into your body?"
The room had finally stopped spinning around Sahiem. "Imam it was just as before in all of my other searching visions. I felt the power and prostrated my soul before Allah the merciful. I proclaimed myself his willing slave and he lifted me up in oracular vision. Next I saw the city and all of the souls of men and women as living flames. I had just begun searching for the telltale brightness of the Christian souls when a great hand seemed to swat me from the sky back into my body. It's very confusing."
Imam Hafiz pulled at his long beard thoughtfully, "My brother this is more troubling than my other fears. It sounds like you did nothing to anger Allah, but I've heard of similar events troubling some of our Indonesian Sufi brothers. They report that it is usually associated with attacks by the Christian demons that cluster around some of their most powerful teachers.
But far worst than the attacks themselves some of the brothers who were subjected to this kind of attack finally forsook Islam for this foul Christian infidelity and had to be executed. " He looked pointedly at Amin, "Did you say that Amin is ready to join our select society? As Suleiman the wise said a threefold cord is not easily broken, perhaps if we added him to our number the three of us could break through this opposition."
Sahiem looked at his young protoge', "Amin, do you hear the invitation to enter the brotherhood of the select? Are you willing my brother?"
Amin bowed his head, "Emir, I stand ready to offer myself as a Shaheed in whatever way that Allah should decree. If my learned clansman thinks that I can so serve the All Wise and All Merciful one in this way I will happily submit to this new discipline."
Hafiz and Abdullah shared a glance. Jamila caught the glance out of the corner of her eye. _This could be a troubling development,_ she thought, _I must pray harder._
Imam Hajib looked up at Hafiz, Abdullah and Jamila, "Brothers and fourth wife of Sahiem, could you please give us some privacy while we counsel with our brother Amin?"
Hafiz and Abdullah bowed their Salaam's to the Imam and slipped out into the main prayer room. Jamila bowed and slipped out another door to the women's prayer room.
After both doors were closed Imam Hajib searched Amin's face with a long and probing look. "Clan brother Amin Al-Husam, are you willing to become truly a faithful sword in Allah's hand?"
"It is ever my desire most respected Imam."
Imam Hajib shot a glance at Sahiem, "You have taught him much I see."
Sahiem bowed his head, "I have tried my teacher, in my own humble way to prepare him ever since I learned that you were here by Allah's providence in our target city."
The Imam turned his attention back to Amin. "What do you wish seeker of Allah's will?"
"I wish to hear the voice of Allah clearly and to be a faithful sword in His hand against the infidels."
"Are you willing to be a Shaheed, a living sacrifice to the service of Allah in this earth? Will you count your life as already expended and follow without question wherever the All Wise will send you?"
"I am a slave to the wisdom and the will of the All Wise and All Merciful. I renounce my life to win paradise." Amin had often dreamed of this moment in the miserable poverty of the refugee camp north of Al Kuds, but he had always thought that it would be as a suicide bomber against the Zionist blasphemers who had renamed the holy city Jerusalem.
"Will you receive the spirit of wisdom and vision from the hand of the All Wise and never question the revelations that the spirit gives you?"
"I wish to receive this spirit. Please impart this great gift to me."
Imam Hajib nodded to Sahiem, "Prostrate yourself before us and empty your mind. Prepare to receive the wisdom of Allah."
Amin prostrated himself before the old Imam and his own mentor. Sahiem and Imam Hajib laid their hands on his head and began to pray. Suddenly Amin's body became rigid beneath their hands. The Imam looked at Sahiem, "It is done my brother. Allah, may his name be praised, has possessed another willing vessel. Our number is increased." They prostrated themselves beside their new brother and offered prayers of thanksgiving to thier god.
After a time Amin relaxed and stirred himself. His face was very troubled.
Imam Hajib recognized the symptoms. This young man had received a deep vision far beyond the powers of one newly initiated to interpret. "Amin, my brother, tell us what you saw. We'll help you interpret it."
Amin pulled himself together with some difficulty. He looked from Sahiem to Imam Hajib. "I saw a great woman in the moon. She leaped into the sky and plunged down to earth in a trail of fire. She fell to earth at ancient Ephesus, Rome and finally Mecca as a black stone..."
"Imam why would a Woman become a black stone?"
***************** In the women's prayer room Jamila bowed also in prayer. The Imam's wife sat off to the side and gazed approvingly at the young woman. _She will be a good example to the other wives and young girls in the mosque. One so young and yet so devout._ she thought. _And she is the fourth wife of one of the highest officials in the new Caliphate, the Inspector General for Religious compliance no less. Truly Allah has blessed my husband's mosque with these new brothers._
Jamila prayed silently, "Oh holy one, all wise and all merciful; please deliver my husband from this terrible affliction. Don't ever let it come over him again. In the name of the ever blessed one."
****************
Out in the men's prayer room Hafiz and Abdullah sat on their prayer rugs waiting patiently for their mentor and his aide to be finished with the Imam. "Abdullah, has the Inspector General ever spoken to you about this power before?"
"No, has he ever spoken to you?"
"Never. It seems my brother that we are not yet the type of men that he will invite into the select number. Perhaps our origins in the Hezbollah camp outside of Beirut makes us suspect. It is rumored that the Mossad had many agents among us."
"That's true brother, but Sahiem must have seen the pure flame of Islam within the two of us or he never would have recruited us for the Religious Inspectorate. It is said that he favors men from the camps for his field agents. He seems to think we are hungrier."
Hafiz laughed, "Hungrier we are brother. My hunger drives me now; the Caliphate must prevail for the final age to dawn. But it is also said that our Emir possesses an oracular second sight. This is the secret that makes him so effective. But we don't have this gift so no matter how hungry we may be we grope in darkness compared to him."
"Well we can still use the natural tools that our new status has put in our hands brother. You spoke to the Air Force liaison, when will the UAV sweeps begin?"
Hafiz looked at his wristwatch, "If everything went according to plan the first two UAV's launched ten minutes ago. They should start quartering the mountains to the North and East of the metropolitan area in a standard search pattern within twenty minutes. The technical officer I spoke with assured me that the life sensor packs onboard will easily spot anyone trying to cross the mountains."
Abdullah nodded, "Good. But why would they try to cross the mountains? Don't they know that our grip on Canada is tighter now than it is in the United States? These foolish Christian infidels run in circles and will quickly fall right into our snare."
"As Allah wills. I too hope for a quick end to our search. But the military compliance officer told me one more thing that makes me wonder. This Kihn person, the Emir of this group of infidels, was an officer in the Delta Force. He specialized in leading what the Americans called black operations. Evading detection was his specialty. Apparently he became almost invisible while on a mission so that even his superiors and the NSA couldn't track him. They gave him the military call sign Ghost One."
"Ghost One eh? Once we locate him we'll make both him and his benighted infidel followers into real ghosts. Allah has decreed it, it's only a matter of time. We finally have the future firmly in our hands my brother."
*****************
The UAV control trailer dedicated to the Religious Freedom operation was humming with activity. Colonel Achmed Al-Husani, religious liaison to the Elmendorf command, stepped up into the trailer and closed the door. He looked around the trailer at the consoles which were set up to control the five UAV's tasked to the Religious Freedom effort. The E-4 in charge of the control center looked over his shoulder, "Good morning Colonel, we're just starting to get a feed from bird number one."
Al-Husani would never get used to the casual way that these American specialists treated rank when they were in their world of electronic sensors and cyber warfare. The base commander had told him that if he wanted results he had to put up with it. These young men and women were all alpha geeks with no respect for anything except technical skill. At least they wore the uniform and had their hair cut in proper military manner.
Al-Husani stepped over behind the E-4's chair and scanned the display monitors and bio-sensor readouts, "Where is this bird now," he glanced down at the name stitched to the young man's uniform blouse, "O'connor?"
O'Connor pointed to the GPS topo map, "Twenty miles northwest of here Colonel. That's the maximum that anyone on foot could have gone in the time since the raids. We are working the search pattern out to 30 miles and then back in toward the base."
Al-Husani didn't quite know how to respond, "Well, very good. Carry on Sargent." He turned away toward the door.
O'Connor muttered, "Cyber Attack." Then louder, "Hey guys we're being hacked. It looks like those cyber punks down in L.A. are in the system again."
Al-Husani turned back to the bank of monitors over O'Connor's workstation. The nine displays had been slaved together to make them one continuous display. They had lost the feeds from the UAV and were displaying a truly disgusting pornographic video.
Jennifer Lopez, the specialist at the next workstation over from O'Connor's muttered under her breath, "How come those stupid L.A. geeks always put up stuff that's only interesting to guys."
Al-Husani scanned the trailer; all of the workstations had been compromised. "Does this happen often Sergeant?"
O'Connor was hammering on his keyboards and working the controls to no avail. "It used to happen about once a month. Since the President signed the Religions Laws it's been happening every few hours. They must have some serious backdoors built into our operational net." Then to the other specialists in the trailer, "OK guys cut the feeds and reboot everything. Bring the system back up in autonomous mode. Colonel if you want the latest info you'll have to stay here, we won't be able to link into the larger command net. That's how this latest attack got in."
Twenty miles north the two UAV's switched over to autonomous flight control as the control feeds from the ground were cut off. Their designers had foreseen something like this so their robotic brains accessed the preprogrammed search plans. Moments before the downlink to the control center back at Elmendorf had gone off line, an Alpha level control protocol had been inserted into that preprogrammed search plan. It took control. Both of the multimillion dollar drones increased power and nosed over in a power dive straight into the sides of the nearest mountains. UAV One slammed into the side of a ridge high above a small hiking party. The robotic drone hit the unyielding rock at close to 400 Kts. The impact and subsequent explosion showered the area with shredded aircraft parts and burning aviation fuel.
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Post by mongoose on Aug 14, 2008 22:45:53 GMT -5
Robert suppressed a chuckle to himself as he saluted the Air Force Liaison and saw him off on his mission. Robert had made his career hiding his true feelings concerning things, and even his closest friends would not have guessed at the derision with which he looked upon his new muslim "superior." Not ten years ago it had been his job to hunt down and capture, kill, or even destroy the worst of these rag heads. Now it was his job to send them out after the man he'd often sent to do his dirty work.
So be it. One could do little from outside the system, and less if he didn't have anyone inside. He and Kihn had often argued about this very thing in the way that people who "don't know each other" argue. Kihn maintained that he and the rest of the faithful could operate well enough on their own, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Robert didn't know the first thing about the Holy Spirit, and claimed only to be faithful to the good old U.S. of A.
Was there a god, and was it the god of the Christians, and not the Muslims? He'd seen Kihn do some amazing things, things difficult to explain using the typical psychology, physiology, and other sciences. Things not taught in military history or basic or advanced combat operations courses. But it wasn't enough to convince him. What did convince him to remain on the "inside," and do what he could was his comparison of Kihn's love for his men and his wife, versus the way these Islamic usurpers related to each other. He'd gladly take the misguided Christian way over the Islamic, even if Allah really was going to judge him.
So it was in good humor that he sent the Airforce Liaison out on the most difficult mission of his life, with slightly faulty information on his target. One could not lie outright unless the cover were iron clad, and these rag heads had good crow bars for breaking into top secret and sealed operational records from the last 20 years. They would find the truth, or at least a version of it, eventually.
True, Kihn had officially been a part of the U.S. Army 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment Delta, but the details of his assignment were so vague and deeply buried that it was not a problem for him to complete clandestine and un-authorized missions for "The Council" otherwise known as the "Counsel For the Preservation of National Security" of which Robert was secretly a member.
True, the council, Robert himself, and their NSA informants had occasionally lost track of Kihn. But that was mostly because they lacked the resources to dedicate to tracking him, and they knew that if they could track him, so could others. They'd intentionally slipped him out of the tracking chip implantation mandatory for most soldiers operating behind enemy lines. Of course, that meant the rag heads couldn't use that against him, either then or now. Also, he often had help from a team and intel from friends and his own nation, both of which would be lacking now. But to listen to Kihn, the help of this Holy Spirit would trump them all.
True, Ghost had been a part of his call sign, but not Ghost One. It had occurred to Robert two years into Kihn's service under him that it would be useful to have multiple layers of cover identities for his star operative, such that if he were compromised, they would only have uncovered one layer. The real man could still escape while they dug for the truth. So Kihn Waiting Bear, the Delta Force Captain, had the call sign of "Ghost One" on many of his delta missions. But to himself and his friends, and on his "real" missions he was known as "Ghost Owl."
The story behind that was something else, especially considering the metaphysical or pseudo spiritual nature of events being played out today. The story went that Kihn grew up in the backwoods of the Blackfoot reservation, raised by a shaman of questionable belief system. Whatever he had learned there, he came away convinced that he was possessed by the spirit of the snowy owl. Whether due to the aid of an indigenous animal spirit, a demon, the Christian God in another form, or simply because of the old skills learned for survival on the reservation, Kihn came to them an advanced practitioner of all things SERE (Survival, Escape, Resistance and Evasion). He said his real name was Kihn Snowy Owl, and as his colleagues saw what he could do, they took to calling him Ghost Owl. The name stuck.
So Robert smiled inwardly, knowing that the Muslim soldiers were equipped to fear Kihn for his legendary abilities, perhaps inflated somewhat by Robert's re-telling, which would also lead them astray from the true nature of the target. He only wished he could effectively get word to his operative, but lack of communications went hand in hand with black operations. It was why the operatives had to be able to operate independently, which both made helped them survive in situations like these, and made ordinary military life extremely difficult for them. It was a wonder the Muslims had any special operations troops at all, there was so little room for creativity and independent thought among them.
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Kihn heard the UAVs two minutes before they arrived, and knew their nature almost immediately. Carlos was only a moment behind in his assessment. They began to run for the denser brush, all but hauling Susan with them.
Fortunately for the party of three, they were still in the lower portion of Arctic Valley, with no major rock formations to block the sound of the aerial approach. They ran until they got hung up by the densely packed alder trunks and branches, dropped their packs and began to crawl forward beneath them. Finally they reached a place where the sky was entirely obscured, and they might feel somewhat safer. They had perhaps 30 seconds before the enemy arrived on station.
Carlos nudged Kihn urgently, and mouthed to him, "life signs!" Kihn nodded, and pointed just a little to their left toward the gurgling of a small stream. The brush was thickest near the water. Kihn unhooked one end of a chord from his vest and tossed it to Susan, who, after a moment, realized he meant for her to hook it into her own belt. She did so, and the three of them rolled and scrambled down into the stream.
The glacial run off took their breath away instantly, and began its work of sapping their body heat and energy. They had perhaps two minutes of functionality remaining before they'd be immobilized by the cold. If they remained mostly submerged even that long, they would suffer from hypothermia when they emerged.
The UAV life signs scanners amounted, essentially, to glorified infrared cameras. They would pick up the heat emissions from any bodies in their way, and experienced analysts could pick out the "life signs" from the resulting pictures. There were few ways to combat those sensors, one of which was to neutralize the heat emissions. To reduce them to negligible levels should have the desired effect. It could also have some detrimental side effects. To negate life signs sensors, one might have to lose one's life signs, and even one's life.
The UAV whirred almost directly over head. If too much heat emerged from the stream, they were in trouble. In trouble or not, they would have to emerge from the stream in the next 30 seconds, or they'd require quick medical attention, which they would not have. Kihn was concerned, and cried out to God for help.
In the next few seconds two things happened. First, Kihn was hammered by a feeling of guilt almost as shocking as the cold of the stream water. Why hadn't he called out to God sooner, instead of depending on his own wisdom, wisdom that was about to get them all killed. Already he had a hard time controlling his arms and legs, totally numb as they were. His internal organs would follow in very little additional time. Second, the volumne of the UAV's motor increased to where Kihn could sense it through the water flowing past his ears, and then was swallowed up by a collision with the mountain side above them, followed by an explosion. Something had done in the UAV. Why hadn't he trusted God?!
Carlos, not distracted by such thoughts, had the presence of mind to haul himself, barely able to move, from the ice water. The jerk on Kihn's harness from the chord attached between himself and Carlos brought Kihn to, and he followed, dragging himself on hands and knees. Susan had even more difficulty, with less body mass to surface area, and Kihn and Carlos had to drag her forth from the stream's icy grip. They got each other up, and immediately started a forced scramble back to their packs. They all knew they had to keep moving to generate the body heat to recover from the effects of the cold water.
They would also need food to replace the sapped energy. After a moment Kihn remembered, and retrieved the cliff bars from his vest pockets, handing one to each of the others and taking one for himself. Everything not bagged was soaked, but that wouldn't be a problem for the energy bars. The problem was getting them open with numb hands. Fortunately their teeth and knives still worked, and all three almost stopped to shove the life giving grains into their mouths.
Sooner than expected they had their packs and trotted up the trail in dry thermal shirts and fleece, warming up and drying out by the minute. Now they had to be careful to avoid sweating, while still needing to increase the distance between themselves and the UAV crash as much as possible. It might have sent vital information back to its base just before it crashed.
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It was not until they stopped to rest, two hours later, thoroughly exhausted that Susan unleashed her fury on Kihn. Were he not under attack, he might have wondered at the irony of the similarity between the arguments he'd thrown at himself, and those she threw at him now.
"What were you thinking you in-competant, self absorbed, egotistical, male cheovanist . . .army grunt! You nearly killed me back there."
"There was a UAV, we had to protect ourselves. It could have had life sign . . ."
"I don't give a . . ." she managed to avoid swearing "Care what it might have had. You don't throw me into glacial water! How's that supposed to help us?"
"What? did you have a better idea? We were about to be compromised!"
"Like trying to take my life into your hands isn't going to compromise you? I'm thinking to turn you in right now before you succeed in killing us. Carlos, where's that radio? I want it operational, STAT!"
"Don't you dare! We're in this for the long haul, remember? Jesus warned us to run to the hills. You think it'll be easy?"
"Oh, now you try to play the 'Jesus said' card, eh? That's precious. What did Jesus say about trusting him? What did you do? Took things into your own hands, didn't you, when He had a plan from the beginning!"
"HEY!" Carlos borke in.
"What?!" the two chorused, turning on him as one.
"Don't you see what he's doing?" Carlos said, looking back and forth between them.
"Who?" Kihn asked.
"The enemy of course! First he makes you think you're in danger. Fear. You can take care of yourself. Pride. Now you've sinned."
Susan opened her mouth to agree, but Carlos held up his hand.
"But that's not enough. Oh no." The longer he drew it out, the more time the husband and wife pair had to cool off. "He had to add insult to injury. So he accuses you in your mind. You know you fell victim to that, sir. And not only that, he uses your weakness, Sue, to turn you against your husband. Now you've not only sinned, but you feel guilty and inferior, and you're angry at him, and he at you, and the relationship is hindered. Who gets the glory now?"
The two scoweled at him, slack jawed. Apparently he'd said something effective. Carlos decided to stop while he was ahead. "That's all I got. Maybe y'all should pray, or something. I'll take watch."
He turned and walked off. Had God just spoken through him, or were the other two still suffering from the cold and unable to think of a good response? He hoped, one day, to be sure when he heard the voice of God.
Kihn sighed, half turning to his wife. "He's right, you know."
"Don't you dare tell me . . ." She blew a little more wordless steam before harumphing, turning her back, and folding her arms. She wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of forgiving him so quickly and trying to return things to normal. Let him cool his heals for a while first. He certainly deserved it, enemy or no. Kihn had made the decision to follow his own wisdom.
Kihn almost pleaded with her to return and talk about it, but lowered his hand, sighed, and sat on his pack. You couldn't do anything with Susan when she got into one of these moods. You just had to wait her out. Usually apologize. But if you did so too soon she wouldn't believe you. You were just trying to butter her up or something. So you had to wait till she was satisfied with her torture, and then prove to her that she had succeeded with the guilt trip. Amazingly, it seemed to work every time. She would forgive him and go on as though he'd never done anything wrong.
He shook his head, and began to pray silently, repenting and asking God to forgive him for each of the sins, in-turn, that he'd committed or been accused of. Momentarily a sense of peace settled back over him, and he was able to return his gaze to his wife's back with appreciation rather than frustration. He smiled, appreciating the perfection of her physical form, and asked God to bless and comfort her in this difficult time.
It was time to move on. Kihn said as much, briefly, and then rose and hoisted his pack. He turned back one last time to Susan, touched her shoulder. She shrugged his hand off. "I'm sorry." he said, then turned and trudged up the path. He soon heard her following him though she did not speak. He kept his eyes on the tracks ahead of him, knowing Carlos would join them soon, bringing up the rear. Regardless of how the three felt about each other, they would maintain discipline.
Late that night they fell into camp, eight miles up Ship Creek Canyon to the south, south east of the opening of Arctic Valley. No dinner was cooked, and no tent pitched. They simply rolled into what forest floor debris they could gather, huddled beneath a large spruce tree and wearing all their cold weather clothing.
Four hours later it was still dark. Kihn, with some effort, drug himself from the pile. He stripped of all but his drab green thermals, dug his army LBV from his pack, and changed into his moccasin boots. He had what he might need in a worst case scenario, if he was reasonably careful. Pulling his headlamp from one of the pockets he turned it onto a low setting with a red filter that would spare his night vision as much as possible, and tightened it on his head.
Shivering but ready to go, Kihn left a note for his wife to find if she awoke, and took off at a mile eating trot. Two hours later he arrived below the crash site, and began collecting pieces that remained, including a portion of the computer interface, and one of the cameras. His survival pack 30 pounds heavier, he began the slower jogg back to where he had left his wife and sergeant as the twilight broke over the mountains to his left. Hopefully there would be no one around to see him in this unusual outfit. It couldn't help but attract attention if someone saw him, but it was what he needed for this mission.
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Post by newburydave on Aug 25, 2008 13:29:28 GMT -5
Imam Hajib pulled on his beard in thought for a moment. "Amin, my brother, have you had much contact with the Christian idolaters?"
Amin started, "Oh Imam, before my parents were killed by the Zionist Entity's forces they told me to never speak with or listen to the Idolaters. I have never knowingly spoken with them."
The Imam looked thoughtfully at Sahiem, "You have fully investigated Amin's background, Inspector General?"
"Oh yes, Imam, I spoke with the camp elders who knew him from a child and his family before him. They were loyal members of Fatah. That is why his family was killed, his father was a sniper against the Zionist's and they launched a raid specifically to destroy him because he was such a good shot."
The Imam transferred his gaze back to Amin, "This thing you told us was that the whole substance of your vision my brother?"
Amin bowed his head, "Yes Imam that it was the primary part of my vision, but there was more in the background. There was a great dragon locked in mortal combat with a shining star upon a great mystic mountain in the background, but the woman plunging to the earth was in the forefront of my vision."
The Imam's frown of concern smoothed out into a smile of recognition, "Ah, Azi-Zahakka, the great dragon being cast down and imprisoned under the mystic mountain, Mount Damāvand, until the Day of Judgment. This is a vision of great spiritual destiny." A new measure of respect crept into the old man's visage, "The imagery is from ancient Indo-Persian mythology and is retold in the Shahnameh epic, an ancient Arabic account of the history of Persia. It speaks of a great empire of evil being subdued by the power of heaven."
He looked at Sahiem, "I believe that your protoge may become one of our great seers my friend." Then to Amin, "My young friend, please write out your entire vision in order, I must study it. I feel you have seen something of great importance to our cause."
Amin relaxed, "Does this speak well for our mission here Imam?"
The Imam smiled, "The image of a woman from the moon, the pagan moon goddess, becoming the black stone of Mecca is one of the blasphemy's with which the Christian Idolaters have reproached Islam over the centuries. If that vision is identified with the great dragon Azi-Zahakka, the eater of souls, it could speak of the final triumph of Allah's Caliphate over the kingdom of the great Satan my brother. I must study and meditate on this before I can be sure, but I believe that your mission here may be critical to this final triumph."
*****************************8
Out in the main prayer room Hafiz's cell phone vibrated, he answered it. "Hafiz here, yes....Salaam to you as well Colonel Al-Husani... they what?... When will they be back on line?... Yes please keep me informed... Thank you."
Abdullah looked at his companion, "Bad news?"
"Yes, the control station suffered a cyber attack from hackers in Los Angeles as soon as the Predators started to send back their signals. The up link was lost and both UAV's crashed without downloading anything from their first runs."
"Can they put more UAV's up?"
"No they found a worm in the control net that has corrupted the control software in the ground station and the remaining Predators. It will be several hours before they can try to launch another search attempt."
Abdullah snorted, "It is as I suspected my brother, we should have pulled in troops from Fort Richardson and put them out into a perimeter around the city as soon as this Kihn person evaded the FBI instead of relying on those electronic toys. Now the perimeter is too large to do that." He pulled out his own cellphone, "Let me call my Army liaison at the base and see what kind of tracking resources we have available. This time we will use Flesh and blood soldiers who can't be compromised over the internet by hackers from a distance."
**********************
Back in the Imam's office Imam Hajib stood and walked back and forth stretching out his cramped muscles. He looked at the two younger men. He motioned for Amin to sit at his desk, "sit and write my young friend while the vision is still fresh in your mind. Omit no detail, it all may be important."
Amin sat and picked up a pen. He thought for a moment and then started to write.
The Imam drew Sahiem over to the conversational grouping in the far corner of the office. In a low voice so as to not distract the young mystic he said, "How far along in his training have you brought him?"
"I have tried to teach him enough to prepare for his initiation. He's been off at university most of the last five years so I haven't had time for much more than that."
"Is he married yet?"
"No, I've tried to start pushing him in that direction but he was obsessed with the idea of becoming a Shaheed to avenge his family." Sahiem shook his head, "I can understand his motivation but he lacks the wisdom to see that his education makes him much more useful to us as a living leader than as a dead martyr."
"That is unfortunate, a good wife would settle him in the faith more than anything else."
The Imam stroked his beard in thought again, "How long did I train you before I allowed you to enter your first Searching trance? My old memory fails me sometimes."
"It was six months, my teacher. Six long months for a young man who wanted all there was to have."
The Imam chuckled, "I see you haven't lost your impatience my friend. Yes it was six months of intensive training in the realities and nuances of the oracular vision. I fear that it may not be a good idea to bring Amin too quickly into the oracular world."
"Why is that Imam? It was your idea to bring him in to form a threefold cord."
"I am concerned that he may not understand what he see's. And if he takes it the wrong way ..."
"Oh, I understand. Even with your training my first visions seemed to reinforce my father's idolatrous prophesy before his death." Sahiem's face became like a dark cloud as he remembered his father's execution for blasphemy, and the terrible prophesy he had uttered just before the sword had severed his head from his body.
The Imam looked dark as well remembering that scene. "I remember well how I had to struggle to keep you in the true faith, Sahiem, and you had been prepared."
The two men were silent for long minutes. The only sound was the sound of Amin's pen as he wrote out his vision.
Finally the Imam spoke, "But Amin didn't have an apostate father to muddy the waters now does he? How important is the capture of this Kihn person?"
Sahiem looked at his old teacher intently, "This is my first mission outside of the middle east teacher. It is proof to the High Commissioner that our spiritual methods work outside of our home region."
"So if you fail to bring a good result quickly we will lose much of our influence with the Caliph designate."
"Yes, that is exactly the problem."
The Imam sunk back in deep thought. Finally he spoke, "It is too important that we should be in the second rank beside the Caliph when he is revealed. If we lose my kinsman, well he wanted to be a shaheed. Sometimes martyrs understand their danger, sometimes they go unwitting to their death at the orders of their Emir. Any sacrifice is justified to attain our ends Sahiem." He reached out and took the younger man's hand in his, "Are you with me on this my friend?"
Sahiem looked over at his young, trusting, protégé. He slowly turned his gaze back to his old teacher. "Yes," he said slowly, "I am with you. But what if he is subverted to embrace the infidel faith and reject Islam?"
The old Imam's face never looked more like a deaths head as his intent eyes bored into Sahiem's gaze, "Any sacrifice is acceptable to achieve our destiny my friend, any sacrifice. Do you understand?"
Sahiem nodded his head but his thoughts roiled. He didn't realize it but the thoughts tumbling through his head were similar to what a group of fanatical, colonial New England Calvinists thought when they proclaimed that they were willing to be damned for the Glory of God.
Death was one thing, but apostasy and damnation of one so trusting...? Sahiem did not feel comfortable with this despite the Imam's assurances. His father's prophesy rose up in his mind again.... He shook his head, he mustn't go there and think that-- _God is the Greatest_ he thought emphatically, _and Mohammed is his prophet._
The old Imam watched the struggle in his leading student wondering if he had overstepped. Though he was a spiritual man he was also an accomplished politician. Survivors had to be aware of how their words affected people. He wondered how close the relationship was between Sahiem and Amin. Time would tell.
Amin broke the tension by arising with several sheets of paper written small in his hand. "Here is my vision Imam, I await your interpretation eagerly."
The Imam shook off his serious mood and stood, once more the affable old sage, "Very good Amin, you and Sahiem need to go and get a good night's sleep. All other concerns can wait for tomorrow. I will meet with you again after morning prayers, eh?"
Sahiem shook him self and stood up, "That is good advice, yes we will meet again tomorrow morning."
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Post by mongoose on Aug 27, 2008 0:37:15 GMT -5
((I hope this isn't too detailed or hard to follow, but I'm open to suggestions. Gotta learn this stuff some how.))
Robert returned to his office and closed the door. The shades in the door's window were open, as per the new regulations, but there was still a corner they couldn't view from outside. And if sat facing the corner, as he preferred, his back was to the camera. There would be no recording of what he did for the next few minutes. He came in here and sat like this on a regular basis, just in-case. The directorate surveillance people probably wondered amongst themselves for the first week, but it wouldn't be enough to report. Nor would it ever be.
He took a moment to breath and gather his thoughts. Lying was as distasteful to Robert as it was to any well meaning soldier. He was just good enough at it to keep his job when things went off the wire. So he took a little break. He figured he had two minutes of relative safety left. He took a piece of gum from a packet in his pocket, unwrapped it, and folded the stick into his mouth. Peppermint, his favorite flavor. He'd gotten into the habit lately. You could do a lot with a stick of gum. As he chewed he smoothed out the wrapper and wrote on the inside in permanent marker, "Breakfast at Tiffanies." He folded the wrapper and placed it in another pocket. Then it was back to the endless paper work. There would be quite a report on his contact with the liaison from the Directorate for Religious Freedom.
Two hours later Robert was ready for a break. He carefully put everything away, secured it, logged out of his computer and shut it down, all as per regulations. It was smart, too. Glancing around the fastidiously organized office once more - it would be obvious if anyone moved anything while he was gone - he grabbed his hat and jacket from the old fashioned coat tree and headed out the door, locking that as well. Outside the government office building he slipped into the vintage Jaguar, and sat for another moment before starting the engine and smiling at the feeling of power beneath him. The car would be bugged, but he could still enjoy its performance, once off the base, of course.
After driving around long enough to calm his nerves - which never showed, of course - Robert drove through a particular coffee stand, and ordered a Vente White Chocolate Mocha. He thanked the vendor, tipped well, and continued on his way. It was possible someone had followed his erratic route, but that was why he used old fashioned trade craft. He would rarely make contact directly with any of his assets, on either side. So many on both sides now depended on e-intel, or electronic intelligence, but a few, including Robert, had been trained by veterans of the cold war games of cat and mouse through East Germany.
The barista's replacement arrived, they exchanged greetings and keys, and he exited to head home. On his way he pulled into the Sears Mall parking lot between Benson and Northern Lights along the Seward Highway, a well traveled area. He needed a new spatula and some other kitchen and bathroom items at home, and purchased those. After loading them into his old Subaru he paused on the sidewalk beside which he'd parked, to smoke a cigaret. Three long puffs. He dropped the roll of paper and tobacco and rubbed it out on the pavement with a series of forward and back scuffs of his shoe, not side to side.
Across the street a homeless beggar peered vacantly over a cardboard sign requesting money for beer. "Why should I lie?" It said. He noticed the scuffing of the foot, but no one would have known it to look at him. He approached a car with a window rolled down and thanked the man that shoved a dollar bill at him. The traffic signal turned green, the homeless man stepped back onto the sidewalk, and the truck took off.
Robert pulled the jaguar into a neighborhood along Chester Creek where it passed beneath the Seward Highway, and got out to sit on one of his favorite park benches. He only came here once in a while when things got especially hectic at work. He'd just given vital information on a former soldier of his to his new superiors, after all. He had cause for some stress. He finished his drink, placed the gum - now back in its carefully folded wrapper - into the cup, and dropped the cup into the garbage container beside the bench. He returned to his vehicle and from there to work without incident.
An hour later, the homeless man ambled down the Seward Highway, and turned into the neighborhood. When he came to a garbage can he raided it for left over fast food and other useful items. All went into plastic grocery shopping bags, including the mocha cup from the third can. He collected a few more items for good measure, and continued on his way. This week he'd been offered space on a friend's couch in a small apartment back on Fireweed and C Street. It was a bit of a walk, but not too much, and that was life.
Life included other little in-conveniences. His friend insisted that he leave his garbage back under a bush outside the building. So he did, being sure one of the bags was tied in a perfect square knot. Let it never be said he lacked skills, such as they were.
A lady, fully and appropriately covered, walked down C street with her husband, the two of them hauling groceries from Walmart, just up the street. Gas prices were up to $6.23/gallon now, and they simply couldn't afford it. She took a step to the side while her husband re-tied his shoes. She set down her own shopping bag to rest for a moment. The man finished re-tying his shoe, and the two of them headed on home, the woman carrying a grocery bag with the handles tied in a perfect square knot. An identical bag full of groceries sat on the ground with others stuffed with trash, under a bush. Payment for valuable information.
The next day the man stopped by the library to return a checked out book on Sharia law. He stopped by one of their internet access computers, donned a pair of gloves - it was a West Nile Virus scare this week, but you never knew - and logged on with a library card acquired using entirely false information that would lead to a dead end, if it were traced.
He ventured to a website dedicated to interesting recipes that could be cooked on the home range. There was a place to submit comments, and he did so, choosing a username of AnchorageArdvark. He'd never used it before, and probably never would again. The subject was "Steak." In the body of the message he typed, "Your 3rd recipe looks like one in 'Breakfast at Tiffany's.' I'll have to try it tonight." He sent the message, logged off, wiped the keys with a cleaning cloth, pocketed the gloves, and exited on to his next errand. He had no idea what "Breakfast at Tiffany's" meant, only that he was supposed to forward the message from the gum wrapper, having destroyed it as soon as he'd finished memorizing the message.
On the East coast a cook and former analyst at the NSA, called Cat by some of his oldest associates, sorted through dozens of new e-mails. The words "Breakfast at Tiffany's" caught his eye. He re-read the message, noting that it was sent by AnchorageArdvark and that the ip also indicated Anchorage.
His network was as secure as one could get from a civilian's home. He even piggybacked off the neighbor's wireless connection for certain operations. In exchange, he had set up the neighbor's system to gain him extra bandwidth at lower cost than could be had without Cat's help. Anyone tracing the forwarded message would find that it came from the sport's arena down the street. They might trace it from there, but Cat would know and disengage long before they reached him. Then he had his escape routes well planned in advance, and methods in place to destroy all data. Of course, it would probably never come to that, it just paid to be paranoid.
Nine men in their late 30s scattered up and down the Eastern Seaboard, one in Boulder Colorado, and two in L.A. received the e-mail about breakfast. They deleted it and emptied their trash immediately, stopped what they were doing at the next reasonable opportunity, and secured the next available transportation to Anchorage Alaska.
Most would come in by air under one cover story and ID or another. Every one of them, as Delta operatives, had passed similar qualification exams. Most were dropped in a non-English speaking nation in Central Asia or the Middle East with no money and no ID, and had to make their way back home within a week. All had succeeded, many arriving with new clothes, money, IDs and other souvenirs.
They might be watched by the new regime, but there was no reason for any of them to be objects of suspicion. None of them were the despised White Anglo Saxon Protestants, and all of them spoke fluent Arabic or Russian and more than one other language from their former area of operations.
------------------------------
Susan awoke in the middle of the night, shivering, and noticed with instant trepidation that her husband was gone. Angry as she was at him, much as she claimed to be able to take care of herself, she couldn't deny how safe she usually felt around him. Not to herself anyway. In that first moment a dozen worst case scenarios crashed through her head, and she tried desperately to fight them back. Looking about frantically she came upon his note, and collapsed with a nervous chuckle. He was fine and would be back soon with useful information. Oh but he would pay for not telling her FIRST! She grinned a little to herself. How could she not love the man who was always trying to make everything better?
Carlos saw that she was okay, rolled over, and fell back to sleep within the next two minutes.
The name made its way back into Susan's consciousness, the name that had awakened her to begin with. "Jamila." "Huh?" Susan thought. "Jamila? Who's that? Sounds Middle Eastern. Why does her name keep looping through my mind?" The obvious answer came to her even before she finished thinking the question. "Pray for her." She'd asked for it in response to one of their pastor's sermons last year. He'd encouraged them to volunteer to serve as intercessory prayer warriors, to be awakened in the middle of the night to pray for people in need. "Ask and you will receive" her Lord had said.
"Uh, okay. Lord Jesus," She began under her breath. "Please take care of Jamila. Wherever she is, whatever she's doing, I pray you would glorify your name in and through her." She paused for a moment, and the word "Strength" came to her, so she continued, hoping, trusting that she was losing sleep for something worth while. "Lord, I pray you would renew Jamila's strength. Let her rise on wings like the eagles. Let her run and not be weary, and walk and not feint, as you teach her to wait on you. Show her your favor, and renew and strengthen her trust in you. Let everything she touches prosper, and I declare that in Jamila's life your Kingdom is come and your will is done, even as it is in Heaven. Thank you Lord Jesus, in your wonderful name, Amen."
Susan lay back down, and fell to sleep in record time, feeling a bit less cold than before.
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Post by newburydave on Sept 5, 2008 20:06:05 GMT -5
The following morning Sahiem and his entourage were in their limousine on the way from thier hotel to the Mosque for Morning prayers. In the front seat Abdullah's cell phone rang.
"Hello, Abdullah here .....yes Salaam Ibrahim, it is a good morning yes.... I see.... This oficer, Captian Taylor is he supportive of our mission......Do you think he can be trusted....good, I want at least a Company sized force deployed in the mountains to find these people. We have failed because we have been too sparing....Oh really, do you think this is wise....All right we will try it your way first, you have two days to give us results....My authority? You question my authority? I am one of the three mulazim in North America for the Inspector General himself! Do Not try to pull rank on me; you will lose....I want reports of every milestone...yes please remeber that."
Sahiem leaned forward in the back seat, "Trouble Abdullah?"
Abdullah turned in the front seat to face his leader. His normally swarthy face was red with surpressed rage. "That ignorant Colonel tried to pull rank on me and tell me that I was in no place to give him orders!"
"Please restrain yourself Abdullah. We must cultivate harmony among the faithful if we are to succeed in establishing Islam as the dominant power here in North America. You are well to be concerned but please try to be diplomatic, follow the example of the Imam. He has forged a power base among tribal and clan leaders with less discipline than our military bretheren. I know for a fact that he positively hates some of his closest associates."
Abdullah visibly shook himself and forced his anger down. "I'm sorry Emir, my temper is sometimes unruly, I will ask Allah to help me to get better control." He bowed his head submissively.
Sahiem chuckled, "You are still young and passionate Abdullah. I remember my own struggles to force people to act sensibly. Remember the exhortation of the Prophet to wisdom and patience. Wrongs endured to achieve victory can be redressed at leisure once the power is in our hands. Be patient, and keep good records, eh?"
Abdullah looked up into the gaze of his Emir, was that amusement in those normally basilik eyes? "Yes Effendi, you are too patient with me. Thank you."
"Patient yes, too patient no. You are a sword in my hand, you have shown that you have both power and finesse in your missions for the Inspectorate in Lebanon. That's why I'm patient with you; I expect you to bring me success here among these infidels and you are a key part of my strategy. Remember that, Power and Finesse; and have patience my brother, victory is in our hand."
Abdullah bowed his head again, "Yes Emir, I will follow your advice. The infidels will soon be in our hands."
Sahiem sat back into the luxurious seat. He turned his eyes to the passing buildings outside the limousine. When he spoke it was as if he spoke more to himself than to his companions, "I trust you are right my friend. Too much depends on it, more than any of you know."
Hafiz looked at Abdullah but chose to remain silent. The words of their leader hung with heavy import within the limousine. _I wonder what other things are dependent on our success. How much don't we know?_ he thought.
*********************************
Imam Hajib greeted them in the foyer of the mosque, but his normally smooth affability seemed forced, not natural. "Sahiem, I trust that you and your followers enjoyed a refreshing nights rest."
Sahiem looked askance at his preternaturally perceptive teacher, was he testing him? "The orhers may have but my dreams troubled me Imam. I think you know that."
The Imam gave Sahiem a measuring look, "Inspector General, I think we should talk privately before we go in for prayer."
"I would appreciate that Imam." said Sahiem. Jamila had vanished into the womens seperate prayer room as soon as they enterd the mosque.
The two leaders left Amin, Abdullah and Hafiz to prepare themselves for prayer and stepped through a door into the Imam's private office.
"Sahiem, you look horrible. What demons were you wrestling with last night?"
Sahiem looked at the Imam wondering how much he dared to tell his old mentor. "My fathers prophesy came up before me again Imam. I fear that this may be the arena where he said it would be fulfilled."
The Imam groped for the chair behind him and sat down heavily. He suddenly looked old and frail to Sahiem. "I feared that was it my friend. I also found troubling visions to wrestle with last night." He looked up with the piercing gaze of oracular clarity that Sahiem remembered from thier years in the refugee camp. "I studied and meditated on Amin's vision last night into the morning hours..."
"What did you find Imam?"
Hajib looked up at Sahiem sharply, "Your fathers prophesy."
Sahiem looked around and found another chair. He sank in it wearily and dropped his head into his hands. After a few moments of silence he looked up and their gazes locked. No words passed but the dark foreboding hung in the air between them like a destroying spirit.
Finally Sahiem spoke, "Have we come so far only to fail then?"
The Imam shook himself and drew himself up as if shaking off the dark mood. "Speak not of failure my brother. Allah, may his name be praised, will strengthen us and defeat these christian demons."
Sahiem also sat up, "So we will continue with our plan?" He thought for a minute, "Abdullah and Hafiz are still pursuing the military force options, they think there is a reasonable hope for sucess there."
Hajib resumed his normal composure like a man putting on a cloak, "Good, we must pursue all of our options. One thing that I have learned over the years about the oracular vison is that sometimes the things that we see are, shall we say, obscure. The outcome relies on the wisdom we use in reacting to the visions, more than the clarity of the vision itself."
"Then what did we learn from Amin's vision that may be useful?"
The Imam's eyes went hard, "Without further training we may lose my kinsman to the faith, though he denies contact with the christians he is deeply infested with their lies. But it is too important to our cause to stop now. Do you remember that I mentioned Azi-Zahakka the great dragon; eater of souls?"
Sahiem nodded slowly, "Yes you said it was symbolic of a great evil imperial power."
Imam Hajib appeared to grow in stature, "I may have been wrong about that. The ancient Persian and Arabic legend asserted this but that is the wild tales of pagan Zoroastrians. In the vision I began to see something else." He studied Sahiem's face for a moment, "I now believe that the great dragon symbolizes your inspectorate. In the Arabic version of the story Azi-Zahakka was a human ruler who had had two serpents growing from his shoulders. The serpents had an insatiable hunger for living human brains."
The Imam, reanimated sprang to his feet, "Hah! I see it now!" He crossed to Sahiem's chair and slapped him on the soulder, "You will shortly recieve power to pry the thoughts and secrets of our enemies from the living minds and brains of thier people my friend. Then we will see what this Kihn person and his friends will be able to do."
Sahiem rose to his feet, "But what of the part about a shining one locking Azi-Zahakka away under a mystic mountain until the Judgment?"
The Muzziens cry floated in through the closed doors of the office.
"That is still obscure my friend. But since the only power of heaven that is active in this world is the hand of Allah the ever blessed, I feel that this is a good symbol as well. Come let's go and seek further wisdom in prayer. Answers will be provided, eh?"
As they exited the Imam's office Sahiem couldn't help but wonder, _It seems that my teacher has written off Amin, I wonder if he has also decided that I am expendible as well?_ His fathers prophesy had been very specific, ¬_when the new Caliphate stretched out it's hand to destroy the land of light it would be crushed under the heel of Heavens prince. This was not a figure from the the Koran, who could this Prince of Heaven be?¬_
*********************
Colonel Ibrahim Al-Husam Ibn-Saud exited the reception area of Captain Taylor's office as a very square E-8 First Sergeant entered the office. He noted the Ranger flash and Airborne insignia on the man's uniform as he returned the Sergeant's salute. _Perhaps the Captain does have an ace up his sleeve after all._
"Dale Earnhardt reporting as ordered Captain!" the Sergeant said as he braced to attention, and Saluted the Captain.
"At ease. In fact why don't you grab a chair Dale. I've got a mission for you that my new raghead boss," he gestured after the departed Saudi Colonel, "Is very nervous about. Have any of the new troops come around asking for your autograph?" He grinned at his company Sergeant. It was over one of their longest running jokes.
"Not since a newly minted Lt. asked Sir."
Taylor chuckled at the reference to their past association. Whenever he posted a roster with Earnhardt's name on it he always annotated the name with NN which everyone now knew stood for 'Not NASCAR'. He had been that newly minted First Lieutenant fresh out of OCS when he had taken charge of a reconnaissance platoon in Kuwait. He had asked Dale for his autograph when he met him after exfiltration from his latest deep penetration surveillance mission. He never forgot the response.
"Don't like NASCAR...bunch of fools taking needless risks for no good reason. Besides there's no armor and no way to mount any decent weapons on one of those tin cans. My opinion Sir, stick to Bradleys. Better vehicles all around."
"OK Sergeant, lets get down to business. Colonel Ibn-Saud wants us to catch a certain individual named Kihn Standing Bear."
"Sir!" Even the unflappable combat vet was not expecting that bombshell.
Taylor went on, "It seems that our friend managed to evade 12 FBI agents, a whole city full of cops and two Predator II UAV's. Now they want some real soldiers to do some real tracking." He held up a hand, "Please no editorial comments about amateurs."
"Sir, you really want me to go out and try to catch the Owl?"
"I realize that you might have a hard time of it Dale. But the raghe.... ah Colonel Ibn-Saud is very nervous about this. If we can't hand our... ah, quarry over in two or three days it seems that he may be in a world of hurt in spite of the fact he is a royal cousin."
"Ah, Sir, do you really think that I'm the one to lead this mission?"
"Soldier, I wouldn't have called you if I didn't think so. If you don't think you're up to it I suppose I could task Sgt. Muldoon with leading the team."
Sergeant Earnhardt didn't survive a long career in the Army, much of it behind enemy lines, without some serious deductive and observational powers. At the mention of their Buck Supply Sergeant over in the motor pool he relaxed and grinned. "Begging the Captain's pardon but I don't think Muldoon could find an Abrams in the middle of the company street if it was shooting flares."
"Well sergeant we need someone who can do this job the right way; do you think you're up to it. This isn't the marine corps, I don't hand pick my volunteers."
Earnhardt realized that they were playing for the microphones so he slipped into character, "Yes sir, I believe I can handle this the right way. What is the troop strength of our quarry?"
"We believe that this Kihn person has his wife with him, and an undetermined number of troops. It seems that he disappeared without a trace from his last known place of business before the FBI got into visual range. The Air Force has some story about hackers corrupting their command net but between you and me it sounds like he also managed to shoot down two UAV's yesterday by unknown means."
"Shot down some UAV"s huh? Intersting. Well sir I believe I can do this. I'll take a tracking team. Just four men plus me and we'll start at the site of the westernmost UAV crash site. If he was there we'll pick up his trail. If we come up dry we'll switch to the easternmost crash site."
"Ibn-Saud's superior wanted a full company strength unit out in the boondocks tracking him."
"That guy doesn't know the first thing about tracking then. Bunch of city boys stomping around in the woods destroying any trail there was wouldn't help at all."
"Well if we don't bring this Kihn person back in three days we may be forced to do just that. Who do you want?"
Earnhardt thought for a moment, "O'Donnel, Jalarouski, Murphy and I want Jeremiah."
Taylor looked at him a long moment, "So who's going to run my company if you take all my best Sergeants?" He held up his hand immediately shaking his head, "Never mind burden of command I suppose. OK, but are you sure you want Jeremiah?"
"Airbourne Sir! You said we had to do this right."
"Alright you've got him, but you go tell him. You know how he feels. While you're at it brief the others in as well. I expect to be very busy for the next six hours. First I'll arrange your ride. Be at the Helipad in 30 Minutes."
Earnhardt stood, "Airbourne Sir."
"Well what are you waiting for Sergeant, they want this done yesterday."
"By your leave Captain." He said saluted Taylor and left the office.
"Vaya con Dios my friend," Taylor muttered under his breath. Not that he was a strong believer; it just seemed like the right thing to say.
********************
Sergeant First Class Jeremiah, no last name, saw Earnhardt coming and stood up from his desk to greet his old friend, "What's up Dale? You've got that 'interesting duty' look about you."
"Yeah we do. But you'd better sit down." Dale pointed to the ceiling to remind Jeremiah of the microphones, "The powers that be want us to track a guy who has flown off into the boonies and is now doing E and E like a ghost. Nobody else can find him." He pointed to the ceiling again.
Jeremiah put two and two together fast and his face got red. "Owl?" he half whispered.
Dale nodded, "The one and only. The Mrs too I understand and an undetermined number of troops. We've been told to do this right by the Captain." He muttered hoping to hide it under the whirr of the desk fan on Jeremiah's desk.
Jeremiah finally did sit down. A devious expression slipped across his broad face. "You know Dale, my people have a saying, 'To survive in the arctic tundra a hunter must be observant enough to track a fish up a muddy stream.' I think we can do this right, yes I think we can."
Dale smiled for the first time since he'd seen the Saudi Colonel, "It gives me great confidence to hear you say that my friend. We need to mount up. Our ride leaves in fifteen minutes."
***********************
The Islamic monitors looked at each other and smiled. Abdullah would be pleased. They entered the address of his website and uploaded the last audio stream.
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Post by mongoose on Sept 7, 2008 17:18:54 GMT -5
Kihn slowed in the last 30 minutes of his approach to their camp. The last thing he needed was to become hypothermic due to sweat soaked clothes, with an ambient air temperature of 30 or 40 degrees Fahrenheit. He'd taken a different rout on his return than either of those he'd traveled before, hopefully to avoid leaving any more of a trail than necessary. When it came to minimizing a trail, or finding a new one, Kihn had met none better than himself. There was that one tracker, but he had the help of Carlos who knew Kihn's strategy and was able to anticipate his moves.
As it was night, and dark, he traversed about half way up the side of the valley, just within the tree line. He wouldn't be sky lined and there was sufficient cover should he detect opposition forces. He made a point of testing his footing where it was uncertain, before committing a step, and traveled on durable surfaces that would leave a minimal trace of his passage. He allowed himself to wander a bit, seeking the paths of least resistance, and making it difficult for anyone following his trail, such as it was, to determine where he was going. He even spent enough time to become dangerously cold, wading up and down streamlets to minimize the scent trail he left behind.
Finally he approached the tree as the sky over the mountains began to change from darkness to grey. He activated a small radio hidden in a pen, designed by Carlos for the purpose of short range radio communications, and whispered.
"Ears, Dove, This is Snowy Owl. I'm coming in from your 9 o'clock. Please hold your fire."
"Acknowledged Owl. Welcome back."
All being well, Kihn slipped back under the tree, scooting between Carlos and Susan. It occurred to him that some would fear improper activities or relationships between his wife and his best friend, but he trusted them both with his life, as he knew they did theirs with him. Susan grunted in her sleep and made room for his gently prodding elbow and knee, and the two of them drifted back off to sleep
Carlos continued to watch, modified M4A1 nestled at his chest. They would wait for it to become light, and start off again. There was something to be said for evading pursuit in the dark, but Kihn had not indicated that anyone else was along their rout to the camp. If anyone did follow them, it would take them at least a few hours to reach their current location, and by then they'd be gone. Unless . . . but it was no use wondering about what could go wrong. You did what you could to improve your chances, then trusted to your training, your mates, and to God for the rest.
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General Robert Bertrand had plenty of time to think as he drove the seemingly random rout into the "bad" part of town, Spenard. He thought about the mission, about the raghead tail he hoped to lose soon, and about Kihn, who they were supposed to catch in the mountains east of Anchorage. They'd catch him all right, if he let them. The question was only what they would do once contact was established. Most of all he thought about the men he was about to meet.
They were career Special Forces and Delta, all ten of them. There had been 12, but Kihn and Carlos were already in the mountains, and those who had replaced them in the Owl's Brood were not familiar enough with the current mission and its objectives to be trusted. So this protocol activated only those who had served for the longest time and most recently with Kihn Waiting Bear, the Snowy Owl. In fact, all of them had served with him on their last mission as a cohesive unit, the mission that landed Kihn in jail and several of the others dishonorable discharges for allegations ranging from assaulting an officer and murder, on down to dereliction of duty.
It had been a serious FUBAR, a complicated mess, and no one had gone home happy. This team, though disbanded by the PTBs (Powers That Be) had remained loyal to each other, to Kihn, and might be persuaded to again follow Robert.
The general glanced in his rear view mirror for the umpteenth time, changing lanes to the left, and then completing a sharp right turn across traffic. A few horns blared, which would attract attention, but he could also see which drivers reacted in a panicked attempt to regain their position three vehicles behind his. Indeed, there they were, and as he pulled into a drive fast food drive through, and from there into an intersecting alley, he became confident he had lost them.
That was one beauty of this neighborhood, this Spenard, the "ghetto" of Anchorage if there was such a place. He'd seen a fair number of prostitutes along the side streets and allies, and liquor and gun stores, and pawn shops and bars abounded prior to the enforcement of the "religious tolerance" laws. Those only pushed the people underground, where they continued to ply their lucrative trades. It would be like prohibition, except without the mafia or mobs. Organized crime just didn't work in Alaska, for various reasons. They would see if the militia would do any better.
Robert pulled into the driveway of an abandoned mobile home, and after glancing around and ensuring he wasn't followed, exited the vehicle. Down the block, around the corner, and down another block he walked into an establishment that used to be a strip club.
No longer a strip club on the outside, it was now advertised as a local comedy club. This wasn't to say the true nature of the establishment had changed at all, only that one had to approach in just the right ways, pay an inflated fee, and move farther into the building to take advantage of the services for which it was most well known.
Robert did so, passing the rooms where 18 year olds pretended to dance for the gratification of lusting older men, and stepped out the back door where a few patrons stood smoking. He turned away from them, and after a moment they ignored him and turned back to their conversations.
Another beauty of this neighborhood was that it was so near the best rout into Anchorage from the Airport. His men would pass within range of the pen communicator. Activating it, he mumbled a few words in Dari, a common language in Afghanistan. Buried in the sentence about dinner that night was a code that the men could decipher to learn where to meet.
One of the flights they might have used had just arrived. Others would follow. Robert ventured back inside to the room that now served as the bar, serving a large variety of teas unless you showed you were worthy of something stronger. He sat and sipped at his small cup, occasionally chatting with the few other men and women who sat around. Every so often he checked his watch and ambled back outside to make the same call again.
One by one the men drifted in, walked past Robert, and took places dispersed around the bar. None of them looked remarkable, unless you noted their dark skin and hair color. But that only served to identify them as non-WASP, White Anglo Saxon Protestants. Some were natives of Central and South America, others of the Mediterranean or even the Middle East and Central Asia.
Several of them wore the traditional shamock around their necks along with the untrimmed beards expected of good muslim men. All of them wore street clothes similar to those of the other occupants of the bar, with the exception of the slightly baggy jackets or shirts that no doubt concealed a variety of weaponry. For men such as these, the requirements against carrying on a plane were a minimal hindrance. They had their go bags slung over their shoulders, but that wasn't unusual on the rout from the airport.
The men gave no sign of recognition of one another as they entered, merely finding scattered seats, greeting those around them, and ordering snacks and beverages. Robert noted their passage in the reflection from his glass, but otherwise just sat and sipped every few seconds.
Finally the time came. Robert signaled a bar tender.
"Uh, sir." He paused, embarrassed. "How do you like this weather? Summer's kind of mild, don't'a think?" It was the code they'd agreed upon earlier, and the man paused for just a moment in cleaning a glass, processing. "I'm really sorry," Robert continued, "but I'm afraid I drank a little too much. Do you have a place I can relax a bit before I walk home?"
The bartender glanced around, perhaps a bit too nervously but this was the best they could do, it wasn't the first time, and Robert wasn't the only one who made this sort of request. Many of them asked for girls along with the couch, and for a sufficient fee they, too, were provided. Robert only asked for the couch, and the bartender led him back to one of the private rooms, handing him the key on the way.
The other men followed at irregular intervals, until all had joined him. They glanced around, on edge until he pointed out the exits. Then they settled in, lounging on the couches and facing the front where he stood with a marker and a piece of crate paper tacked to the wall.
"Thank you all for coming." Robert said. "I presume you're all up to date on the political situation here."
"What?" Herbert said. "More trouble with the gas pipline, or was it the bridge to nowhere again?" He grinned and received a few chuckles and knuckle taps for his humor.
"Right. So Kihn . . ." ears perked up at the mention of the name of their one time team leader, ". . . has been identified as a leader of the Christian anti-tolerance movement, and a potential insurgent. He fled to the hills, so to speak, the Chugach mountains west of here."
He pulled out a topographical map of Anchorage and Chugach State Park, along with the most recent satellite images of the area, including one that with a smudge showing the UAV crash sites, and tossed them onto the coffee table in the middle of the room. Grant, formerly the team's first Intelligence and Operations Sergeant, pulled out a Macintosh laptop, found a wi-fi connection, and pulled up their area on Google Earth.
"The PTBs want our army boys to find and capture him. That's not going to work, but I've called you here in-case he needs off the meter re-enforcements. Y'all willing?" He waited till he got nods, thumbs up, and grunts of approval from each of the men there.
"All right. This is not military, and it's not official, certainly not approved. It's like before, only without the Counsel to back us up."
"As if they ever would have." one of them said.
Robert just grimaced. He'd been a member of the eight man counsel that tried and failed, in their own power and wisdom to defend the national security of the United States by the secret and un-authorized use of U.S. military and intelligence assets against anyone they saw as a threat.
It was he that had sent Kihn and his team into Tajikistan to snatch and grab Amal, a dangerous terrorist leader, and it was He that directed the hunt for Kihn when he went off the wire. Fortunately these men either understood, or had forgiven him, and were now ready to serve in their common interest. Find and follow Kihn, and kick the muslims out of the American government.
"You'll be on your own," he continued, "but I understand through Black Shell you can get what you need."
Herbert nodded. "A shipment's on its way now to Kihn's alternate place. We'll load up there on our way out."
"Good. Kihn was last seen here, by a bus driver. Seems he asked to get off between bus stops. It was assumed he would run up Ship Creek Canyon, here, but that hasn't been confirmed, nor do I suspect there's much of a way of confirming it. There is this." He pointed to the smudge. "The Flyboys sent UAVs after him, one of which crashed here, and another here. It may be that they were on the right track, but I'll let you boys make the call. One of Saheim's men, that's the agent in charge of the religious inspectorate, he thought the army could do better and tasked Captain Taylor. You may meet his Sergeant Dale Earnhardt out there, with a tracker, Jameson. They're all pretending to follow orders, but you know them and their kind as well as I do. The problem is that they don't know you're out there and may view you as hostiles."
"This will serve as isolation. You can check it for bugs, but the management does that every day anyway. Just pick up the phone if you need anything in here, and it'll connect you to the wait manager. Just be careful. No one outside this room is cleared for what you'll be doing. There's a bathroom through that door, with a shower, but you might want to keep your 'natural' scent. Any questions?"
"Yeah, the usual" Grant raised his hand a little. "Rules of engagement? SERE contingencies?"
"Like I said, you're on your own. It's not military, so you're not under those regs. I would suggest that most of the men you'll meet in the field will be American service men, some of whom have served with Kihn or some of you. You might not want to make enemies of the local militia, either. Many of them are subsistence hunters, more or less, and know this land and how to handle a gun better than anyone alive. But take care of yourselves. Use your judgment. Come up with the rules you think ought to apply, given the situation. You're on a black op behind enemy lines, among potentially friendly indigenous peoples who want the same things you do. The difference is you need to rendezvous with a man you know to be the SERE master, and he doesn't know you're coming and doesn't want to be found."
He pulled out another map and spread it on-top of the first. "If the mission goes off the wire, I suggest that you have two options. Either disperse into the populace and lie low until you can find your own ways to friendly territory, which, right now would probably be Siberia or Japan. If you can stay together in the backcountry, head north through the Talkeetnas -- easy to lose yourselves in those mountains -- to Delta Junction. It's a Christian farming community and they'll be entrenched, but too small and not evangelistic enough to be a priority target. If you can win their trust you'll be safe there "
He didn't mention how long they might have to wait for re-enforcements if it came down to that, or when things might settle enough for them to walk out. He honestly didn't know. No one knew, not even Kihn the prophet. If it was seven years of this lying ahead, as some proposed . . . Robert shook his head, not willing to consider, yet, the religious possibilities and implications.
"Sir?" Herbert said.
"Nothing. It could just get real ugly, and although the Islamic hold on this state is tenuous at best, it's getting tighter. It's hard to tell how many will remain true, and whether they'll stand up. For now we have to assume that our worst fears have come true. We are now the resistance and the insurgency we used to train or oppose. I suggest you all act accordingly."
"You got it boss. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. Or whatever that quote was. These camel jockies'll come to wish for camel spiders and desert sands rather than the mosquitoes and a cold shoulder they'll find up here. God I've been waiting for this!"
Several of the others expressed their agreement, as they bent forward over the maps and other intel they'd gathered.
"Well then, I'll be back in 24 hours. God be with you."
Robert thew a sloppy salute at the group, which a few of them returned, and shuffled out the door.
He paused for a moment in the narrow hallway, listening to the commotion coming from the bar. Someone middle eastern from the sound of his voice wanted to know if he had been there, and threatened the bar with inspection from the religious inspectorate if they didn't give him up. They weren't getting anywhere with the independent minded management, and the patrons were beginning to gather to form a human wall between the surveillance element and the hallway to the back rooms. Just the same, Robert exited through the back door and walked the two blocks to his vehicle.
With all the pieces in place, it was just a matter of time.
-------------------------------------
Kihn and Susan awoke as it became light, finding Carlos drifting off to sleep. They would give him an hour and then move. In the meantime they had to change. Kihn pulled two outfits from his pack that looked like the suits Susan wore for her biathalon competitions, only slightly looser and fuzzier on the outside to minimize noise. Several other features made them superior for hunting, or evading the hunters, the most striking of which was the birch/spruce woodlands camouflage pattern that Kihn had designed working with Herbert's Black Shell product R & D department. The outfits, being custom designed to fit the environment in South Central and Interior Alaska would never hit the mass market, but it was the best for the purposes for which it was designed.
After a moment of doubt Susan consented to wear the suit against her skin, sans underclothes, as they were built in to her model. Both Kihn's and hers -- and Carlos' when he woke and changed into it -- fit perfectly so that there was no need for anything else as long as the weather remained mild. They donned their vests and load bearing gear, changed hats and pocketed gloves, cinched up moccasins and boots and prepared to depart. Within fifteen minutes they were on their way, somewhat disturbed spruce needles the only evidence they had been there.
Again keeping to cover, they continued down the Ship Creek canyon for an hour before Kihn sat them down and began to cast back and forth throughout the valley. After a time he found the object of his search, a particular beaver pond with a lodge near the bank. Leaving his pack and vest on the shore but still wearing the micro-fleece suit, he waded into the pond, lowered himself beneath the surface, and swam into the lodge.
The builders had abandoned this structure a couple of years prior, but there was still a nice platform above the surface of the water. Tied there to some of the branches of which the lodge was constructed Kihn found a large dry bag lined with heavy duty trash bags tied loosely at their tops. The contents would be dry even if the lodge were to flood. He de-activated the beacon, weak and only calling to a short range radio tuned to a particular frequency, and hauled the bag with him from the lodge. It would be awkward to carry if he didn't have room in his pack, but it contained a stockpile of supplies, ammunition, weapons and gear that they would need for the long haul.
He stuffed it into his bag on the shore, and immediately struck back to where he left his wife and friend. No time to stop and dry off or anything. He had to get moving right away so as to avoid hypothermia. Again. Seemed he was always getting into cold or tight spots. Ah well. Such was life on the run. God help him.
The gear distributed, they made their way toward their last camp in Ship Creek Canyon, just within the tree line below the tributary valley leading to the small but still dangerous Flute Glacier.
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Post by newburydave on Sept 11, 2008 12:17:28 GMT -5
The three men, the Imam, Sahiem and Amin stood before their prayer mats in the Imam's office. Jamila was still praying in the women's prayer room under the admiring eye of the Imam's wife.
The Imam looked at Amin, "Now remember when you feel the power begin to flow. Release your will and your mind, let your soul ride the power. Allah knows where he wants to take your vision. Go with it. Look for our presence, we will be there to help you if we can." He shot a glance at Sahiem but his star pupil looked distracted.
_This might not be the victorious action that I had been hoping for,_ Hajib thought to himself, _They both look like they are already in a trance, but not the right kind._
At the nod from the Imam they all prostrated themselves and began to recite the prayer that went with their special Sajdah. The dark power began to flow into all of them.
Amin felt his consciousness leave his body and soar up through the ceiling of the Imam's office, the roof of the Mosque and then through limitless halls of air. He looked down at the streets of Anchorage and suddenly as though a curtain had been raised he began to see flickering flames within the buildings and on the streets. He looked more closely and saw that each flame soared up around a person. _It's like Mussa and the Burning Bush,_ he thought, _they burn but they are not consumed._
He felt the presence of the Imam and Sahiem beside him. He drew comfort from their presence. _Alright,_ he thought, _the purpose of this questing vision is to find the Christian leaders out in the wilderness. I will first find a baseline of how the Christian souls will look._
He looked more closely at a large ornate stone church that they drove by on the way from the hotel to the mosque. It was like zooming in, this was great. He looked for people and found some going through one of the christian morning prayer rituals. The sight of their idols sickened him but he pressed in. An old woman knelt and the gorgeously robed Imam put some thing in her mouth. _These christians are truly strange,_ he thought, _why would they eat in one of thier Mosques? I wonder where they store their arms and ammunition?_
Suddenly the reality of what he was seeing penetrated his consciousness. The old woman burned with a pure white flame. No part of her was darkness, only light. The Robed Imam burned with... what? How to describe it? It looked like a flame of darkness that sucked in and quenched all light, but even with the close contact it didn't quench the old woman's flame. He looked more closely at the christian Imam, it seemed that in the dark flame he could see unnatural lust and hunger for power.
He wrenched his spirit gaze away from the scene. I'll check our mosque and see what properly faithful worshippers of Allah look like, that will give me the baseline that I need. He zoomed in on their mosque building. _Ah there was a pure white flame in the womens prayer room._ He Zoomed in closer and his thoughts froze. The pure white flame surrounded Jamila, Sahiem's wife. A dark figure flaming with jealousy and spite towered in the corner above the Imam's wife.
Amin's thoughts reeled. _How could the Imam, with this oracular vision have such a monster in his bed?_ Amin frantically changed focus to the Imam's office, what he saw almost knocked him out of his trance.
He saw his own body prostrate between Sahiem and the Imam. Above his body his flame twisted and writhed as if in combat with itself, half light but mingled with the most intense darkness. Sahiem's flame was more dark than his but still some light to it. But the Imam... _The Imam's flame is not a flame at all. It looks like a vortex, a whirlpool of darkness._ A picture flashed to his mind of a creature he had read about an ant lion larva that trapped ants in slippery sand and devoured them. _The Imam looked like that, a hungry sucking void spiraling down into an unknowable dimension of hopelessness._
Amin wrenched his gaze away from the Mosque. He was totally shaken. He felt for the presence of Sahiem and the Imam but they had left him. He quested out for them and found them to the north above the mountains and willed himself back into their presence. In an instant he was there.
Below the three disembodied spirits the mountains north of Anchorage spread out, most of them a virgin wilderness. Amin was surprised at how much life he could see in the wilderness. Spirit fire glowed almost from under every tree and bush. A fire soaring just below them resolved into a hunting hawk. All of the animals were pure fire, diffenent colors of light, different blends of colors but all light. There was none of the darkness that he had seen in some of the humans.
Up ahead three bright flares drew his attention. A bear and her two nearly grown cubs ambled down a shallow side valley toward a flow of water. Seven flames burned below them. They resolved into five soldiers with heavy field packs and two pilots in a helicopter. Two of them glowed with a white light, the other three were mixed but there was much more light in them than darkness. Their darkness seemed to be losing the battle. The darkness was much less intense that Sahiem's darkness.
Amin mentally shook himself, _I can't be thinking of my Emir like that. He is Allah's mouthpiece to me so I must have been mistaken, he cannot have any darkness in him. I will have to look again when we return._
****
Sahiem exulted in the freedom of the oracular flight. Below them seven soldiers in a helicopter flew into the entrance of a canyon following a road. Two of them glowed with the hated Christian fire of delusion. The other five still had some of the darkness of wisdom in them. Possibly those five could be saved, those other two must be executed though before they could contaminate the other three.
It always amazed him when he saw animals. They all glowed with the pure fire of delusion. It only reconfirmed him in the teachings of the Imam that the pure fire was just the animalistic soulishness from which Islam rescued the faithful. Without the washings, the dietary laws and the five times of prayer each day any one of us could forget the teachings of the Prophet, blessed be, and slide back into the animalistic fire that would destroy us on the day of Judgment.
He quested further southeast seeking, following the canyon, he found three more human spirit flames about eight miles southwest of the first five. Two with a normal mixture and one... He drew back slightly as he sensed the tendrils of thick darkness that seemed to wrestle with the light in that one. It looked almost like his own flame. He had glimpsed his own flame once in the beginning of his questing trances, before the Imam had warned him to never look at your own flame or the flames of your trance mates. Yes it did look like his own spirit flame, except that one had a lot more light in it.
_Now that one is a soul brother,_ he thought, _I wonder how a Muslim got out into the mountains and what he's doing there?_ He Zoomed in and... something seemed to cloud his vision. It was as if he were looking through a fog. What he dimly saw was a Muslim man leading two Muslim women. Obviously it was a family group. _Now that is strange, but then people are strange. Maybe they go to look at the glacier. Go with Allah's blessing my brother,_ he thought, _wherever you are going. And may your wives bear strong sons for this good land that we have inherited._
He turned his questing gaze away from the pass below Calliope Peak; the pass that ultimately led up to Flute Glacier. He quested out toward the west and north continually startled by how pure and bright the spirit flames of the bears were...
****************
The new generation stealthed Pave low settled lightly on it's landing skids in the center of the Arctic Valley Road. Most of it's Mass was still on the main rotor as if this were a hot LZ. The tracking team bailed out the two open doors onto the highway and the helicopter lifted immediately. Above them on a high east facing ridge a nasty burned smear showed where the westernmost UAV had died below Mt. Gordon Lyon. The other UAV crash site was about five miles to the southeast, on the north slope of Ship Creek canyon, almost down to Calliope Peak.
Dale's bone conduction phones, that were integral to his helmet straps, carried the voice of the pilot. "Kodiack 1 this is Eye 1. We'll head back to base under nape-of-the-earth flight profile. Call for a pickup." Dale clicked the tooth mounted control for his implanted sub vocal mike to acknowledge through his helmet como unit. Dale knew that even the stealthy bird flying nape-of-the-earth wouldn't evade Kihn's notice if he was anywhere on Ship Creek.
The tracking team spread out and started carefully working up the slope toward the crash site. Jeremiah stopped and studied some underbrush next to the road. Earnhardt stopped and studied Jeremiah. The Yakut cum Inuit Indian was cursedly hard to read. Before he could speak up to ask, Jeremiah sensed his eyes on him and turned with a smile, "Good day for a walk in the mountains, eh Dale?"
They moved into the underbrush on the southwest flank of the tracking party bypassing the bruised grasses and slightly displaced twigs and leaves that showed where someone careful had sat in the underbrush close to the road's margin within the last few days. Dale missed it.
All the sergeants in the party were master trackers, Jeremiah was a virtuoso.
******
"Hey Dale, do you really think that there's anything up there that didn't fall down here," Jalarouski waved his hand at the near vertical slope ahead of them where Dale was perched at the top of the scree. The actual crash site was near the top of the higher ridge wall. The debris of the UAV had fallen down onto the relatively gentle slope where they stood in the edge of the treeline just below the scree. "I mean Owl may be good but he can't really fly can he?"
Jeremiah gave him a long stare. "Ski, if you spent more time on PT and less on those computer games of yours you wouldn't be intimidated by this little hill."
"Hey there's a cute specialist over at Elmendorf and I'm trying to beat her in the 'Citadel of Doom'. I mean shouldn't an infantry recon sergeant be able to beat a wing wiper in a game about medieval siege warfare?"
"So why do you want to beat Stephanie so badly in online gaming Ski?"
"She's a super-geek and if you can't beat 'em you can't date 'em."
"O'Donnell came up to them, "Ski with your ugly mug you don't have a chance in a face to face."
"Real women like scars Donney-Boy."
"OK, can the chatter you guys." Earnhardt slid down the last of the scree slope into the treeline where they were gathered. "Ski's right there's nothing here, lets call our ride and go further in country."
The tracking party checked their pack straps and started back down the slope toward the road. They had questioned why Dale wanted them to take enough outfit for two weeks in the boonies plus a full weapon load on a tracking mission with helo support, but they'd been around the block enough times to trust Dales judgment. Jeremiah even had what looked like a stack of strange looking camo ponchos lashed to his pack.
As they snaked their way through the thickening Alder trees Jeremiah lagged back to walk next to Dale. "They were here you know Dale, but not up there." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder.
Dale turned his head to look at the massive Yakut. "I thought you saw something down by the road."
"Yeah, it looks like they crossed the road there on the first night after they disappeared from the bus. Sat in the bushes till darkness fell is my guess." Dale knew that Jeremiah's guess was better than most people's video surveillance.
Dale looked back at his fore trail and stepped around a small bush, "You know Jeremiah, you could get in trouble, doing things like that."
"Yeah I know, but I won't. You did tell me the Cap'n said to do things right didn't you?"
They both began to chuckle.
Dale said, "Yeah I did say that didn't I. Good catch Jeremiah, I missed the signs back by the road."
Jeremiah grinned, "That's why they pay me the big bucks and short the rest of you guys."
They both chuckled again.
Ski stopped and looked back, "Hey what's so funny back there guys, you want to share the joke or what?"
Dale grinned back at him, "Nah, you wouldn't understand Ski. Just go back to dreaming about Stephanie."
Ski muttered something and turned back down the slope.
Jeremiah looked up at the panoramic view of Ship Creek canyon and mused, "I'll bet Owl's being a whole lot stealthier that we are Dale."
_Yeah and I hope he's still got his Souvenir of Iraq pen. I don't want to get shot going in._ Dale thought.
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