Download the Book - Islam and Science Fiction

drops sub-light, then kill the engines, I'll still have control of the
fusion motors and maneuvering system, so I'll be able to avoid hitting
the planet. I'll also be able to call a Mayday, and maybe they can send
another starship to help. With luck I'll save the ship and myself, too."
Dr. Thompson looked at Jan in disgust. "Damn. First right
answer all day. You smart-asses take all the fun out of this test.
You're hired. Have your gear brought on board."
From the Confessions:
At the risk of making excuses, I will begin my story from my
youth. Perhaps you will feel that I am a stereotype, and I suppose I
am. I was trained to be that stereotype. But how well do you really
know that type, or the many others which comprise my culture?
I chose my new name only recently, and have gone by several
over my lifetime. Back then I went by the name Shahid Kahlid. Zeid
Qoli and I were best friends from early childhood. As young boys, we
played with plastic toy soldiers, setting fire to the Shah's forces and to
those of the Great Satan. Later, we progressed to throwing rocks at
the monarch's goons. We thought alike back then. We quoted the
Koran, and we hated the Peacock Throne.
We joined the Shia Ali together. We could not have been more
than sixteen, and the time was growing ripe for the Second Islamic
Revolution. Oh, how we longed for battle against our persecutors!
We did not have long to wait.
We went into combat as so many martyrs had done before,
barefoot and armed only with faith and burning hatred. We both
acquired weapons with the impact of a single mortar round, at the
price of the lives of several armed comrades. We won that battle,
fearless on account of our boiling blood, and were hailed as heroes for
the feat of destroying a column of trucks. After the battle, Zeid found
flesh and chips of bone from the hand of his rifle's previous owner
imbedded in its stock. It was only then that the magnitude and danger
of what we had just been through struck us. We found a secluded
spot and wept.
Our bravery won us respect and praise, though, and that is an
addictive brew to impressionable pups. We quickly adapted to the
horrors of war, and hardened ourselves into efficient killers. We
already hated the enemy, and it was easy to consider them sub-human.
Our own losses became easier to accept with the doctrine that the
fallen faithful were assured a place in Paradise.
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