"Sure boss," said Keith, who was dressed in a suit. "Make sure to call the office when you get to our hotel, okay?"
I went in to the main terminal building of Macross International Airport. A lot has chnaged in the nine months I have been here. More terminal buildings have been built, reflecting the finished construction of the city which this airport serves. I brought my luggage to the El Al terminal, showing my boarding pass and putting it in the conveyer. I then walked towards to Gate 33 where the flight would leave. I sat in a plastic seat near the gate. My flight was scheduled to leave at ten o'clock local time.
"El Al Flight 343 leaving for Haifa," said a voice.
I went to the gate and presented my boarding pass to the gate agent. Then I walked along the jetway to the waiting airplane. I sat down on my assigned seat. I watched as other people came in and sat in their seats.
I heard a voice from the intercom in a foreign language. Then I heard another voice in English.
"All passengers, this is the captain speaking," said the voice. "Flight 343 for Haifa is now departing. Please fasten your seat belts and place your tray in the upright position."
The plane taxied to the runway, and then took off. Within minutes, we were flying over the Arctic Ocean, heading for Haifa in Israel.
Many hours later, the plane began its final approach for Haifa. I looked out the window and I could see the dark expanse of the Mediterranean Sea. I felt a thud; I knew we had landed. The plane stopped at a terminal and I proceeded out of the plane through the jetway and into Israeli customs.
After walking through a scanner, I presented my passport, with the Israeli visa I got from the consulate in Macross City.
"What are you here for?" asked the Israeli customs inspector, scanning the passport to make use it is authentic.
"I am here to catch a connecting flight to Tiberias," I said. "I am to attend the Global Journalists' Convention. My flight back to Macross City is three days from now."
"I see," said the customs inspector. "Please wait."
Israeli customs inspectors checked my carry-on luggage and the luggage which was taken here via the airplane's cargo hold. They talked amongst each other in Hebrew.
"You may go," said the customs inspector. I immediately left the customs inspection area with my luggage. I looked around, seeing signage in Hebrew, English, and Arabic. Dozens of people were walking around. I saw the El Al desk and I walked over there, presenting my coupon which would entitle me to the next flight to Tiberias.
"Flight 8 departing from Gate 12 at four thirty PM," said the woman.
Local time was about two o'clock; it felt like it was yesterday. I had slept for a few hours; I figured the first thing I would do once I reach my hotel in Tiberias is go to sleep. It certainly did not help that Israel was twelve hours ahead of Macross City.
I waited around Gate 12 and I had a hamburger to partially sate my appetite. The announcement came that El Al Flight 8 was leaving for Tiberias. I walked through the gate and was greeted by warm air. I had not felt warm outdoor air in quite a while. I could see the plane; it was much smaller than the plane that flew me from Macross City, and it could probably hold about sixty passengers. I climbed up the stairs into the plane and sat down. Within minutes, the plane took off for Tiberias.
I looked out the window, and I saw a cratered landscape. There were some farming going on, as the people of Israel were rebuilding, just like others around the world. I could see mecha on the ground on guard from enemy attack, even from this altitude.
Less than an hour after taking off from Haifa, the plane landed at the Tiberias Airport. I got out of the plane with the other passengers and we all headed for baggage claim in the terminal building. I waited at the circular conveyer belt for my baggage. I then left the terminal and waited outside as I saw cars, vans, and buses driving along the road that served the airport terminal. I saw a taxi stand just a few feet away. There were many taxi drivers trying to solic it business, so it was easy for me to get a cab. I placed my luggage into the trunk of the cab and then sat inside. I told the driver to take me to the hotel.
The taxicab then departed the airport and we went through the streets of Tiberias. It was a busy, bustling city. After a few minutes, we reached the hotel.
The hotel was very new, and it was located on the waterfront. It had just opened this year. From what I read, Tiberias was one of the few cities to survive the Robotech War, as the war with the Zentraedi was now called. Like other population centers that still had an intact infrastructure, many people moved here, and this spurred new construction. I noticed there was construction at the hotel; another room tower was being built.
I got my stuff from the trunk of the taxi, went into the front lobby, and checked with the registration desk. It took a few minutes for me to reach the desk, as there was a line.
"Your room is 504," saisd the lady at the hotel counter who spoke heavily-accented English. "It has a nice view of the sea."
"Thank you," I said.
"The hotel was booked to the max because of the convention. This is a really popular place due to the historical significance of this city. A lot of pilgrims come here to..." She looked right past me. "I should be going on to the next customer."
I left the line and took a look at the lobby. It was made to look comfortable, with couches and glass tables and a piano and posters advertising the tourist attractions. I noticed some restaurants adjoining the lobby. I also noticed a lot of uniformed security guards here. I took my luggage to the elevator. Someone had pressed the buton for the fifth floo. I waited until we reached the fifth floor and I got out.
Fortunately, Room 504 was not far from the elevators, which was good for me. I used the plastic keycard to unlock the door and I entered.
The room was clean. There was one bed, a nighstand, a table in the corner. There was a glass sliding door leading to a blacony. I looked out and I saw the Sea of Galilee underneath the twilight sky. I went out and took a sniff. It did not smell like the ocean, but then again the Sea of Galilee was a freshwater sea.
I took off my clothes and got dressed in my pajamas. I soon drifted off to sleep.
ooooooooooooooo
The next morning was the first day of the Global Journalists' Convention. I rememmbered the last time I went, when it was held in New York. I looked out the window. From where I was standing, I could see the little fishing boats floating on the surface of the Sea of Galilee. I could hear the squawking of birds flying overhead, hoping to snatch a fish. I wondered if Jesus ever stood at the site of the hotel.
I pikced up the phone and called my office. It was closed at the time, so I left a message to the secretary via voice mail.
Anyway, I got dressed in my suit and then headed to the lobby. The hotel had a small cafe where a free breakfast was served. After leaving the elevator, I walked to the hotel's cafe. The cafe was decorated with much flora. I took a seat right in front of a cloth covered table and asked for a menu in English.
And then I looked over the menu's breakfast selections.
"Scrambled eggs, please," I said.
"Okay, sir," said the waitress, who spoke in an Israeli accent and wore a green outfit.
After I finished my scrambled eggs and orange juice, I went to the corridor near the ballrooms where the registration desk was. I saw two staffers sitting behind the reigstration desk. I gave them my Discover credit card and signed up, receiving my pass which will allow me to attend the events. I looked around and various news organizations such as the Associated Press, Reuters, Cyber News Service, and the New York Times set up shop. I also saw booths for news services from foreign countries. The booths were handing out brochures advertising their particular news service.
Then I heard someone call my name. I looked and saw A.J. Chegwidden.
"Mr. Chegwidden," I said. "I see you're here to attend the convention."
"You're very observant," said Mr. Chegwidden. "I flew in from New York. How is your job going?"
"Fine. I'm running things pretty well." I looked at the convention's program. "Looks like there's gonna be a luncheon."
"I'd like you to meet some of the people I've had the pleasure of working with."
And so I spoke with some of the other reporters attending the convention. We swapped business cards. They were very interested in me.
"So you spent two years on board that ship?" asked this man. "How was it like?"
"A pretty harrowing experience," I said. "There were some bright spots though. I wrote an article on my two years on SDF-1 and that's how I won the Pulitzer Prize."
"A Pulitzer Prize," said this woman who spoke with a British accent. "I must congratulate you. Maybe you should write a book. Or even go on the lecture circuit."
"I could do that," I said. I looked up at the ceiling for a while, imagining the opportunities that were opened. Please excuse me."
I went ot the hotel's gift shop to purchase a postcard. The postcard had a nice view of the Sea of Galilee. I wrote a message on the back to Jenna. I then purchased an envelope from the shop and a stamp from a vending machine. I then went to the mail box next to the hotel registration and I put the envelope inside.
ooooooooooooo
Lamb was served at the luncheon. It was a traditional meal. The Scriptures testified that Jesus Christ's Last Supper had lamb as its main course. I sat at a cloth covered table with other reporters and editors as I listened to the guest lecturer. He spoke on techniques as to how to ask sources for information for news stories. His speech was riveting. I made sure to introduce myself to the others sitting at my table, making rapport with them. They were, of course, interested in my journey on board the SDF-1. I had become quite the celebrity here.
"Maybe you should write a book about your experiences on the ship," said a man sitting with me at the table.
"I could do that," I said. "I mean, I'll probably be collecting royalties ten years after it's published."
The luncheon wound down and many people left to go to their hotel rooms or visit the sights of this ancient city. I made sure to speak with as many people as I could. oooooooooooo
I sat at the outdoor deck of the hotel's cafe, sitting opposite of Mr. Chegwidden. The deck jutted past the shoreline of the Sea of Galilee. I could see the clear blue water with little boats sailing in the waters. We both ate our lunch, the only sounds coming from other people conversing and birds flying overhead. The convention was fun, with all the exhibits. One exhibit even showed photgrpahs of the SDF-1 from inside and outside. But it was time to go.
"So you're heading back to Macross," said Chegwidden.
"That's right," I said. "I do have an office to run, you know. My flight leaves in two hours. After eating, I will pack my stuff and call a taxi. How are things going in New York?"
"We're still going on. You know, they're almost finished remodeling that Zentraedi cruiser in Queens. It will be open for business early next year."
I continued to eat my lunch, which was fish with roasted peppers and cream and mushrooms. I finished, and it was time to pack and leave.
"Here's my share of the bill," I said, putting down some money on the table. "Maybe we will meet again."
"Of course," said Mr. Chegwidden.
I lleft the cafe and went to my hotel room to pack my clothes. After making sure I packed everything, I called for a taxi. I then called a bellhop to assist me in taking my luggage down.
"So you go back home?' asked the young man, speaking in heavily accented English.
"That's right," I said as I rode the elevator to the lobby.
I had completed checkout via the television, so I went out. There was a waiting yellow taxi for me. The bellhop helped me load my luggage into the cab's trunk. I tipped him and got inside the rear of the taxi.
"Airport, please," I said.
The cab left the hotel and we were driving along the streets of Tiberias, passing construction sites for homes and businesses for people who resettled here after the Rain of Death. I was not familiar with thwe layout of the city, so I did not sense danger.
Until we turned into an garbage-strewn alley.
"Where are we?' I asked. "Why are we going here?"
I reached for the door handle, and then I noticed the handle was missing.
Some men opened the door. I was dragged out and everything went dark. I figured they put a hood over my head. I was then shoved into a vehicle, probably a van. I heard the engine start and the tires squeal.
oooooooooooooo
I was driven around for at least an hour or so withthe hood over my head. My captors made sure I could feel the barrel of a rifle. I wondered what was going to happen to me. Would they take me out to the desert and put a bullet in the back of my head? I could only wait.
I felt the van slow down, and then I heard the engine stop. I heard the doors open and they led me out. They nudged me with the barrel of a rifle. I walked along the hard floor; I could feel that we were inside a building of some sort. I could hear voices speaking in a foreign language.
"Get in," one of them said.
Get in? Where?
My question was answered when they shoved me. I heard a door close.
I removed the hood to take a look. It was dark in this room, with the only light coming from the small space between the door and the floor. The room was bare.
"Who are you?" I asked. "What do you want with me?"
I sat down on the floor. They have not decided to kill me yet. This room appeared to be some sort of closet; I was not being held in a dedicated prison. As I sat in the dark room, I wondered what was going to happen to me. I thought about Jenna. Would I be able to see her again? There must be a way out of here.
oooooooooooooo
I woke up and realized I was not in my hotel room nor my apartment in Macross City. I wondered where I was.
The door opened, flooding the room with light. I saw a man brandishing an AK-47 rifle. He looked local.
He beckoned for me to follow him, so I did. I walked along the hallway and entered a room.
Itr was a small room with only a desk and a chair as its furniture. A laptop computer sat on the desk. Sitting behind the desk was a man wearing a rag on his head. His beard had streaks of gray in it.
"Welcome," he said. "I hope you enjoyed your stay here."
"I missed my flight," I said.
"You were at the Global Journalists' Convention, correct?"
"Yeah."
"I know who you are. I know you were on that spaceship for two years."
"Who are you?"
The man looked at me with his brown eyes. "I am Samir Atta Nidal. I lead the Blood Martyrs' Brigade."
"I've heard of you," I said. "Yo're one of those terrorists."
"There you go again, infidel," said Nidal. "Spouting your Zionist propoganda again. The only terrorists are the Jews and their UN!"
"It wasn't the UN that detonated the shrapnel bomb in the casino. It wasn't the UN that attacked New York eleven years ago."
"I've read your work. I know all about the casino bombing. I know one of my martyrs did it. Abu Musab Salim. A man devoted to the cause. a man I was privileged to call friend. He gave all in jihad, and now he is in paradise. You know, he volunteered to bomb the festival celebrating the launch of that spaceship."
"I spent two nights in jail for that bombing."
"Well," said Samir Atta Nidal, "I want to let you know that we will renew our infitada against the Jews and their UN. You will all fall before us. The Jews will be destroyed and all will submit to Allah!"
Then I was led back to the room which was my cell. These were the same kind of people that killed my uncle and others on that late summer day eleven years ago. Would there me more terrorist attacks like that one?
ooooooooooooo
Hours later, one of the guards opened the door and led me out of the room. Walking along the hallway, I looked around to see if there was anything that could be useful. I noticed a security camera attached to the corner of a wall. The guard took me inside this large room. There were other people in here; I recognized some of them as reporters from the Global Journalists' Convention. There was a television in the room.
Then Samir Atta Nidal entered the room, accompanied by two guards brandishing AK-47's.
"Hello," said Nidal. "You must be wondering why we brought each and every one of you here. We have some demands to make, and we need you for this." He looked into each of our eyes. "Which one of you should I take? How about this one."
The guards beckoned to this woman and they led her away. Nidal turned on the television.
"Enjoy the show," he said. "We will broadcast this to the whole world!"
I looked at the others in the room. I saw the TV was on and it showed images of several men armed with AK-47's. Then some guards dragged the woman into view. They set her on the table.
Then she screamed as they took turns on her. This went on for a long time.
Then one of them inserted a rifle barrel into her and fired some shots.
Samir Atta Nidal then faced the camera.
"Greetings," he said. "I am Samir Atta Nidal, leader of the Blood Martyrs' Brigade. I have taken this opportunity to declare an infitada against the United Nations. I have other hostages, and they will suffer just as this infidel suffered." I noticed a madness in his eyes; it looked like something I had seen before. "You will withdraw all of your forces from all Muslim lands by tomorrow. I will release the other hostages unharmed if you do so. If you do not, you will find them dead."
Then Nidal left the room. I was led back to my cell. I wondered if the UN would give in to his demands. I thought back to that day, eleven years ago, when terrorists attacked New York. I remember th horrific images that were played. And I remembered my parents telling me and my brothers and sisters that our uncle was among those killed in the attack. And I later found out how it happened. The terrorists made demands, they got their demands, and that enabled them to succeed in their attack. To kill people like my uncle.
Maybe the RDF was planning a rescue mission. Any moment now, Jenna could bust in here in her veritech battloid.
But then that was something I had no control over. There must be something I could do here and now. I can't submit to these people! If we give in to the Blood Martyrs, then more people like my uncle would be murdered by these terrorists. I held my breath for a minute.
I was here. I had better make the best of it.
oooooooo
A few hours later, one of the guards opened the door. He had a tray with a styrofoam plate and a styrofoam cup. Standing behind him was a guard brandishing an AK-47.
"Eat," said the guard with the rifle.
So I ate. I wondered what I would do next. I had to think. How do I get out of this?
I replayed my memories like a video recording. Was there any detail?
The security camera.
I remmebered seeing it. It was not moving, nor was there any blinking lights.
Apparently, they had not turned on the security cameras at the time.
It felt like it was night. I hoped that the security cameras were not on.
I opened the door and ventured out. The hallway was dark. I did not see any blinking light from the security camera. I had to stay in the shadows. This was just like paintball, except I did not have a gun and my enemies used bullets.
I snuck through the hallway and I emerged in a huge room. It was unlit, and there were all these boxes- plenty of places to take cover. This terrorist hideout was not designed for the long term incarceration of prisoners. I figured this was not the headquarters of the Blood Martyrs, just a local base of operations. If could make it outside, I might be able to call for help.
I then noticed the light was on in an adjoining room. I quietly snuck towards the door, with my back against the dark wall. I was certain no one could see me, and yet my heart was racing. I could hear voices from the room.
The door was ajar, so I took a peek. I looked and saw Samir Atta Nidal inside. There was a holographic image in the room. It was an image of a levandar-skinned man.
I looked for a few seconds before backing away and hiding behind one of the boxes. I had seen that lavender-skinnwed man before, when he interrupted the baseball game.
That was Khyron, the Zentraedi officer calling for open rebellion. This was big news. Nidal and his Blood Martyrs were in league with Khyron!
I heard footsteps. I saw the door open and Nidal walked out with one of his aides. I had an urge to attack him then, but I knew betterI heard an engine start. I looked and saw a van leave through a huge door. Then the shutter closed.
I had to get out and get reinforcements. I had to tell someone that these terrorists were allied with renegade Zentraedi.
Then the lights came on. They must know I was missing! I had to get out.
I heard the footsteps of one of the guards. He was approaching closer and closer. There was only one chance.
I burst around the corner and punched in in the jaw. and it hurt. But it worked- the guard was down. I grabbed his AK-47.
I then heard shouts. I hid behind some crates. Then I heard gunfire. They knew my position. They would probably try to flank me. I had to keep moving under cover.
Two armed terrorists emerged from around the corner. I opened fire with the AK-47 I had acquired. I had to keep moving.
There was a door which apparently led to the outside. No time to think. I had no cover, but this was my best chance to get out of here.
I ran for the door and opened it. I went through just as I heard gunshots.
I looked out and it was night. I was at a waterfront. I ran and hid behind some barrels. I could see terrorists just outside wielding AK-47 rifles.
I then looked and saw a familiar building.
That was the hotel! I was still in Tiberias. I had not been taken far.
I made sure to look around. I had to be familar with the surroundings so I can tell any reinforcments. I focused on the building I escaped from, knowing every detail. I then looked towards the hotel as the landmark.
I then ran along the lit streets of Tiberias, clutching the AK-47, running to the hotel. I kept running and running. I finally reached the hotel lobby and burst in.
"Call the police!" I yelled as I put the AK-47 down.
oooooooooooooo
The police came a few minutes after I reached the hotel. I had informed them of exactly what happened. I told them about Samir Atta Nidal and the Blood Martyrs' Brigade.
"We need you to come with us," said the police inspector, a man in a suit.
Instead of riding in a police car, they took me on a police boat. Since the building was on the waterfront, they figured I could best view it from the water.
"It's over there," I said, pointing to a cluster of buildings. I was sure that they were there somewhere.
Then I saw one of the police officers speak into a radio. The helicopters flew over the waterfront area, shining their lights.
I saw another helicopter come in and some people came out. The helicopter had UN markings. What I noticed was that there were two veritech guardians escorting the helicopters. I watched for a few minutes. Then the helicopters and guardians left the scene.
ooooooooooooooo
The next morning, the police took me to the airport, where a UN Ocean Patrol helicopter was waiting for me. I got in and we flew over the Mediterranean Sea. I looked and saw our destination, an aircraft carrier. IOt looked a lot like the Prometheus. The helicopter landed on the aircraft carrier's flight deck.
"Welcome aboard the U.N.S. Chronos," said an Ocean Patrol sailor. "Follow me."
I was led into the lower decks of the Chronos. I noticed how cramped everything was compared to the SDF-1. I was led to the ward room, where there was a table and some chairs. The floor was covered in a carpet. I saw a coffee pot and a stack of styrofoam cups.
A woman with shoulder-length brown hair entered the room. "Hello there," she said. "I am Commander Lisa Hayes from RDF Headquarters."
"Hi," I said. "There's something you need to know."
"What is it?" asked the commander.
"The Blood Martyrs are allied with that Zentraedi Khyron."
"Wait a minute. Did I hear you right?"
"Yes, Commander. Before my escape, I managed to overhear a conversation between the Blood Martyrs' leader with Khyron. I recognized Khyron from the time he made that broadcast calling for a Zentraedi revolt."
"So Khyron has allied himsefl with native terrorists," said Commander Hayes. "This is serious."
"It's a girl!" someone shouted.
I looked and saw a young man with blue dyed hair.
"What is it, Lieutenant?" asked Commander Hayes.
"Miriya just called me," said the lieutenant. "she just had her baby! It's a girl!"
"Uh, congratulations," I said.
ooooooooooo
Because I lived in Macross City, the Spacy gave me a ride back to the Macross Joint Forces Air Field. From there I was able to get a ride back to my apartment.
I lay down in my bed. I wondered what the Blood Martyrs' Brigade and Khyron's followers have planned for us. I wondered if they would come after me. I spent over an hour staring up at the ceiling.