Carnifex

The Base

Mustafa felt his confidence wilting like a desert flower—quickly and completely. His closest followers sat stunned. This was not supposed to happen, not here, not in the sanctuary that God, in the form of the Kashmiri government's inability to control their southern border, had ordained.

Stunned transformed to horrified when another messenger burst in saying, "The stinking President of Kashmir has come on the television. He says that the attack is with his permission. He says his air force is staying out of it only due to incompatibility between the FSC's Air Force and Kashmir's. We'll get no aid from that quarter."

Was it the nukes that brought them here? Mustafa wondered, dully. But then, how could they know? I told no one but Abdul Aziz and Nur al-Deen. They wouldn't tell any one. They are the most faithful of the faithful. Robinson couldn't have told. If he had, he'd have been out of here last night. Sometimes it makes me wonder whose side God is on.

"What are we to do, Mustafa?" al-Deen asked.

"Fight," Mustafa answered, fatalistically. "What else can we do? But," his eyes fixed on Nur al-Deen, "begin collecting the cadres, the most important ones, and the families. We may lose here, but that will only be Allah's test of our faith. If we can get the key people out," his finger pointed, "along with that one weapon, we can continue the struggle."

"I'll send an advanced party out now," Nur al-Deen said, "to gather some of our followers further north, their vehicles and animals, to provide us a cover when we emerge."

"Excellent, my friend, except . . . " Mustafa looked at the bomb. "Not to the north. We'll take the southern route. And we will prevail yet."