his own brand of fanaticism. Whatever it took so others would follow…
At the not-so-tender age of 15, Riyad had been recruited into the fledgling Al Qaeda organization, and sent to Pakistan for training. In the intervening years, except for brief meetings near the Beirut airport and his attendance at a soccer match in the rebuilt Stadium, Riyad never returned to conduct operations in his native Lebanon.
Instead, Riyad was sent to America for schooling, spending time as a Gator at the University of Florida in Gainesville. His major was chemical engineering, a field that came in handy when instructing young, radical recruits on how to construct roadside IED’s in Iraq and Afghanistan. He rose quickly in the ranks, although he never once set a single bomb himself. He was, however, responsible for five confirmed kills of traitors-to-the-cause from within their own ranks.
After the killing of Abu Musab Al-Zwari in June of 2006, Riyad was sent to Pakistan to help coordinate the rising resistance movement in Afghanistan. The Americans had placed most of their emphasis on Iraq by that time, leaving Afghanistan ripe for a resurgence of the Taliban. It was just a matter of time before they would regain power. Time was on the side of the resistance — and of Riyad Tarazi as well.
Or so he thought.
Riyad remembered walking with the guide through the cold and desolate mountain passage high in the Hindu Kush. The landscape was a consistent and stark gray, and nothing grew this high in the mountains. It was nearing dusk and they would camp in a small cave not too far up the trail and meet the driver the next morning for the trip down into Kabul.
But it never worked out like that. He clearly remembered the flash of hot white light — and the next moment he was waking up in a cold metal cell, covered in hay. His first vision had been that of an Indian man named Patel. The next was of an alien creature wearing a black leather vest and covered head-to-toe in a thick, black fur. At first he thought it was a small bear in costume, but when it spoke and struck him with a whip, he knew this was something else.
After a couple of weeks in hellish conditions aboard the slaver’s ship — during which two of his three other Human companions died — he was sold to a gang of pirates, who apparently then marked up his price and tried to make a quick profit on the spread at another slave auction.
By then, Riyad had gained a feel for his surroundings, and managed to rip the binding cords from his feet and hands and crush the necks of two of his pirate-capturers, before being subdued by an electric bolt of some kind. It hurt like hell, but he found out later, the shot was meant to kill.
A gruff alien with two droopy appendages just below each ear, then approached him and asked if he could control his anger long enough to listen to him. The fact that Riyad could understand anything he said was a shock, until the alien explained about the translation device that had been embedded behind his ear while he was unconscious on the slaver’s ship.
The alien — Hawcwin was his name — explained that he was part of an informal privateer organization called The Fringe Pirates, and that they were always looking for new recruits and strong fighters. The fact that Riyad had survived a level-two bolt meant that he was something special. Having someone like Riyad in his crew would greatly enhance Hawcwin’s reputation — and power — among his peers.
Riyad had little choice but to accept the invitation to join the crew, and nine months later shot Hawcwin dead in a challenge for his captainship. Then a few months after that, Riyad fought the supreme leader of the Fringe Pirates for his position. In a spectacle designed to elicit maximum shock and cement his authority, Riyad made easy work of the lizard-like Rigorian, in hand-to-hand combat, and to the death.
Riyad’s position and reputation were secure, and he immediately set about transforming the rag-tag gang of renegades into an efficient and feared fighting force.
Riyad Tarazi had fulfilled his childhood ambition of leading a band of warriors, yet he had done so with a force of over 500 aliens, rather than Muslim freedom fighters.
Fate acted in mysterious ways…
The captains rose from their seats when Riyad approached. “Greetings, my General,” Captain Mnnlee said, beating his counterpart to the punch. Captain Jolaa just nodded and squared his jaw, while shooting Mnnlee a deadly glare. They both went to claim their seats again “No! Remain standing,” Riyad stated firmly. Both of the alien captains stumbled slightly, breaking their drop into their seats. “This won’t take long.”
On the table lay the offending gold ornamentation, a meter-long crest of some kind depicting a rider on a thick steed and holding a lance. The shimmering gold looked new, but that was the lure of the precious metal, no matter what civilization one belonged to. The object could have been a year old, or a thousand; only an expert could tell the difference. Yet to the pirates, all they saw was a weighty piece of precious metal that could be melted down and sold in the markets of Silea. Of course, Riyad would get his cut, equal to ten-percent of the selling price. The rest would be split between the crews. An object of this size could bring as much as 8,000 Juirean credits.
Riyad looked at the object, then at his two feuding captains. “Throughout the years, I have made it possible for the two of you to share in dozens of bounties greater than this. What makes this one so different that the two of you would fight over scraps?”
Neither spoke, so Riyad turned to Jolaa. “Mnnlee says he initiated the attack and is therefore entitled to the bigger share. And he wants this thing. Why is he wrong?”
“My General, we both staged the attack, and used the trapping techniques you have taught us. We were the herders. We drove the ship to the attack point. All Captain Mnnlee had to do was open fire at the appropriate time. That hardly constitutes initiating the attack.”
Riyad had worked closely with both captains for a long time, and so he was not surprised by the articulate argument Jolaa presented. He was one of Riyad’s favorites, even though he never expressed himself in those terms. It was always best to keep them guessing.
He turned to Mnnlee, whose piercing black and yellow eyes stared back at him unblinking. Riyad knew that was just the way the lizard-like Rigorians always looked, but it still created an instinctive challenge in Riyad’s mind. He did not like Rigorians, which probably harkened back to his childhood, and his hatred for the omnipresent geckos that would crawl on him at night as he slept. Captain Mnnlee looked like an over-sized gecko wearing a black bandolier.
“Captain Jolaa’s argument seems reasonable. We are all part of a unified force now, not a bunch of independent, rabid scavengers.” Riyad doubted if the translator would do justice to the word “rabid,” but he was sure his message was getting through.
Showing no fear, Captain Mnnlee took a step closer to Riyad. “General, my profits are down and my crew has seen half their take reduced in the past few months. We are making fewer raids, and almost none of them to planet-based targets.” Riyad knew Mnnlee’s comments were meant to go far beyond this current dispute. This was aimed directly at him. “My crew was responsible for the stopping of the ship. If they counter-attacked, it would have been my crew who took the brunt of the casualties, not Jolaa’s. We deserve a larger share. We deserve this bounty.”
Riyad heard the muted calls of agreement from the surrounding throng of pirates in the hall. This could easily get out of hand and grow into a full-scale mutiny, which Riyad sensed was Mnnlee’s goal all along. Mnnlee knew that no single pirate could stand against Riyad solo, but together they might stand a chance…
Riyad simply lowered his head as if in thought and slowly nodded. “You’re argument is also persuasive, Captain Mnnlee. I see your point. And you have told my Second that the terms of his solution to this issue are unacceptable to you. I can respect that. But then again,” he paused for effect, “I had no idea these decisions were up to you!”
And with that, Riyad lifted the golden crest from the table — and in a movement so swift that no one knew what had happened until it was over — slashed the Rigorian’s neck clean through with the thin edge of the relic. The steely, beady eyes of the Rigorian remained locked on Riyad, even as the life drained out of his body. Then the long-snouted head tilted forward slightly, before toppling over completely and landing on the table for all in the room to see. Then the rest of the body crumpled to the floor, as prodigious amounts of blood fountained from the wound and began to pool around the corpse.
Then turning to the stunned crowd of pirates, Riyad shouted, “ I make the decisions around here! No one tells me what is acceptable and what is not.” Then he tossed the bloody ornament onto the table in front of Jolaa. “The bounty will be split evenly, all except for this. It’s yours now, Jolaa.” Then he addressed the crowd again, “Unless one of you wants to take it from him.”
There was a stunned silence in the hall as Riyad and Angar left the room.
