The Blood of the Martyrs: Scholar's Story, page 1

August 28, 2253 7:16 p.m.

Twenty armed and armored Resistance Pacifiers stood outside the one-level red brick home in the fading light of the day.

"OK, men, now be prepared. This is one of the last remaining safe houses of the 'faithless'. We go in quick, clean, and try to capture the target. Savior Henson has made it known he wants to have as many alive as he can so they can be executed. He has big plans for the resistance and those are his orders. Of course, he has approved of any necessary force needed, including death, if they don't come quietly.

"Intelligence says there is only one inside but keep your eyes open in case more are waiting in ambush. Understood?"

The soldiers nodded in unison. The past few months had been hectic and even the rookies had become veterans quick. Everyday was filled with some activity aimed at the capture and neutralization of the rebels. The effort to put an end to the "Struggle of the Faithful" had been going on since they first arose, but aggressive actions had increased since their plot to take control on June 21st had been discovered and, for the most part, foiled.

"On my go," their superior officer, Ibrahim Hafiz, commanded in a whisper as they approached the house. Two soldiers took to one side of the door each. Everyone stood silently, assault weapons at the ready, eyes on the Commander waiting for his order.

"Go! Now!" he screamed. Officer Eric Brady kicked the door in with all his might. As it flew off the hinges, the soldiers swarmed in like ants and headed into different rooms, guns raised, red laser beams waving throughout the darkened rooms. The roll call started.

"Living room clear!"

"Bedroom clear!"

"Bathroom clear!"

"Kitchen clear, sir!"

Commander Hafiz walked into the hallway from outside, stood at a door that had yet to be opened and said, "Then he must be in the basement."

"Rodriguez, Williams, Whitaker, follow me," he ordered as he placed his hand on the knob. "If this door is booby-trapped and something happens to me, make sure that this son of a bitch pays!"

They all nodded in unison. Hafiz turned the doorknob. Nothing. The door swung open effortlessly. The four soldiers walked down the stairs, Officer Brady coming down also at the last minute.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, off to the left was their target sitting behind a desk facing them. The soldiers raised their weapons but Commander Hafiz gestured for them to be lowered.

"I'm gonna need you to slowly show me your hands, stand up, come around to the front of the desk and turn around," Hafiz commanded politely.

"Why? So you can shoot me in the back?" the man behind the desk asked, smirking. "I don't think so."

"If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead. No, and I'm sure you've heard the order, the Savior wants as many of you taken alive so you can later be executed as enemies of the state. Now, show me your hands, stand up, come here and turn... around." He was losing his patience.

"I refuse," the man said and slid open one of his desk drawers. "I will not acknow..."

"Show me your f***ing hands!" Hafiz shouted.

At the sound of his voice, the officers raised their weapons again. Hafiz spun around to face them. "I said lower those goddamn weapons! If I want them raised, I'll tell you to raise them! Lower them! Now!!"

The soldiers did as they were told, reluctantly. No one's attention was on the man behind the desk. He slowly stuck his hand in the drawer. Officer Whitaker noticed the movement and shouted, "Commander Hafiz! Look out!"

The Commander turned and saw the man pulling his hand out of the drawer, still hidden from sight by the desk.

"Drop what's in your hand," he yelled, "and raise your hands or I'll be forced..."

A shot rang out and the back of the man's head exploded against the bookcase behind him. A look of satisfaction, not shock, showed briefly in his eyes, and then he crumpled forward onto the desk. Blood began to pour all over it.

Everyone stood in stunned silence for a second. Hafiz recovered first and turned to see Officer Brady standing with his gun raised, smoke still coming from the barrel.

"Brady! What the f*** did you do? Did I tell you to fire your weapon? And what the # are you doing down here?" Hafiz screamed.

"He was going for something. It wasn't worth the risk to any of us," he said calmly. "He posed an aggressive threat; I neutralized the threat."

"You disobeyed an order and..."

"And possibly saved everyone's life," he interrupted, stopping Hafiz mid-sentence. The Commander took a second and considered this.

"Go upstairs, Brady," Hafiz said. "I'll deal with you later. Whitaker, go with him; call for an ambulance."

"Yes, sir," they both said and headed up the stairs.

Hafiz walked over to the back of the desk, stared down at the man's corpse, and then glanced up at the bookcase behind him. It was filled with different religious books and other banned books.

"You know, we may never know who this guy is," he said and then kneeled down, letting out a chuckle.

"What is it, sir?" asked Rodriguez. "What was he holding?"

"A piece of paper," Hafiz said, standing back up. He laid the note on the desk unfolded.

"Let's go," he said to Williams and Rodriguez as he strolled past them and up the steps.

They both glanced at each other and then looked at the note on the desk. In someone's, probably the man's, scrawling handwriting was a quote:

The ink of the scholar is worth a thousand times more than the blood of the martyr.
-Muhammad ibn Abdullah
Prophet of Islam