The Town of Akkan
Taqat Bay, Hillah, Al-Adhara
1022 Local, February 12, 2481
Ziya sat in the passenger seat of his luxury sport utility vehicle as his driver navigated the large SUV through the throngs of people crowding the dirt streets of Akkan's small market district. The Khaytif Emirates was ruled by King Fawzi Husni, who claimed to be descended from some ancient royal Muslim bloodline originating on Earth. King Fawzi had declared the Khaytif Emirates to be a strict Islamic nation and enforced Sharia with a heavy hand. Even so, this far out from the seat of government people were much more laid back. On Hillah, and even the entire Al-Adhara system, Sharia was more a custom than the law. Occasionally King Fawzi would send his Sharia Enforcement Service, or SES, agents to far-flung planets like Hillah. The SES would come to Hillah, beating a few people who didn't pray at the prescribed times, had food or drink containing alcohol in their possession, or women who didn't completely cover their bodies in public among others. The Khaytif Emirates was a stark contrast to the Republic, where the alcohol flowed like a river and women wearing just about nothing was the norm.
Despite this contrast, Ziya enjoyed living just outside Akkan. He was born in the town and raised in the Muslim faith. His parents were merchants not unlike himself, and he had accompanied them on their travels to many places outside the Khaytif Emirates as a child and young adult. To Ziya the Muslim faith, and other faiths like the Republic's Judiasm or the Christianity of the Hussar Empire, wasn't about hard rules. He believed that as long as a man avoided harm to others, helped those less fortunate, and kept an unwavering faith in his Creator, he was following Allah's law. True, Ziya had broken many laws as he conducted his business, but he avoided harm to others and their property at all costs.
As Ziya's SUV slowly rolled along, he looked around at the people filling the streets. It had been about seven months since the SAS's last visit and almost everyone in the town was relaxed. Women didn't cover their faces or hands, the call to prayers echoed through the market but was largely ignored, and several merchants peddled alcoholic beverages at their tables. Even the local watering hole, which ran under the guise of a restaurant, began to offer beer and wine again.
Ziya's driver pulled the SUV off the main street and around to the back of a small hole-in-the-wall kebab establishment. He looked around, surveying the surroundings for a few seconds, then stepped out from the cool air conditioning of his SUV and into the blistering desert air. His driver remained in the SUV while he walked through the back door of the kebab eatery. The pungent, mildly spicy smell of kebabs drifted into his nose causing his mouth to water. He greeted several people at various tables with a nod and smile as he moved to sit down at his normal table in the back corner of the dimly lit dining room.
A waitress approached his table not long after he seated himself, “Ah, Ziya! How are you today,” she asked with a wide smile.
“I'm well today, how are you Hiba?”
“Oh I'm very well, thank Allah, the SES hasn't been back in over half a year.,” she said placing a set of silverware next to Ziya's left arm and a set opposite him, “Can I get you your usual while you wait?”
“Yes, please do.”
“Great! I'll be back with a sweet tea and a menu for your friend”
“Thank you Hiba,” he nodded.
Reaching under his tunic, Ziya retrieved a small envelope from his chest pocket and set it on the table. Ziya had been coming here to conduct under the table transactions for years. Hiba was the daughter of the owners, and his parents had been friends with Hiba's grandparents when they ran the place. They all knew what he did in their restaurant, but between their old friendships and Ziya's bringing them contraband almost every time he came in, they never spoke a word of his dealings or travels.
Hiba returned with his tea, “a sweet iced tea for you. How have your travels been?”
“Very good. A lot of money to be made trading. Many interesting places to visit, some of which you would love”
“Oh I know. I wish I could go on a trade trip with your crew. I think it would be so much fun.”
Ziya took a sip of his tea, “Yes, you would enjoy it. But our dropcraft isn't very...accommodating...for females.”
“That's ok. I know that's how it is,” she responded as she looked up, noticing a stranger enter through the front door.
“Oh, well I'll be back in a few minutes,” Hiba said then turned away.
The stranger walked in and caught sight of Ziya and the envelope on the table as he looked around. Ziya noticed the stranger was trying to not look out of place, but failing at it. As the man approached Ziya's table, Ziya took note of him. He was average height and of dark olive skin color, with a black beard and dressed in a white kurta common in the Khaytif Emirates. The man had an evil look about his face, cluing Ziya into the fact that the man was from deeper within the nation, perhaps even the Khaytif system itself. It wasn't uncommon for Khaytifians from the home systems of the nation to have a different look in their eyes, one much different than that of people from the edges of the nation. Ziya stood to greet the man as he arrived at his table, as was the Khaytifian custom, even for people one had never met before.
“Brother, I see we have old times to catch up on,” the man said as the two shook hands and embraced like old friends.
“Yes, it's good to see you after all this time! Please, sit. We shall eat and catch up,” Ziya motioned towards the chair opposite his own.
Hiba approached once both men had taken their seats, “Hello, may I offer you something to drink?”
“Ah, yes. I'll have tea, unsweetened please,” the man asked as he tried to hide his disgust from seeing Hiba in a short sleeve shirt and face uncovered.
“Good choice old friend,” Ziya said as Hiba nodded and went to get the man's tea.
The man's reaction to Hiba served only to confirm Ziya's suspicions about him being from deep within Khaytifian space. This seemed to be exactly the type of man Ziya wanted to sell the shipment of small arms he and his crew had smuggled onto Hillah the night before. Ziya figured the stranger was a front-man for one of the organizations that was engaged in so-called terrorism against the Republic. The weapons would be put to a very good use if his suspicions were correct, and Ziya was ready to let them go for less than what they had cost him to acquire and bring on-planet. Ziya and his crew were committed to getting as many weapons stolen from the Republic into the hands of these organizations as they could.
“Old friend, I admire and support your good works,” Ziya praised the man as Hiba placed the tea in front of him.
“Ah, you've heard,” he asked, looking up from his menu, “ I would expect a man of your profession to have.”
“Yes, honorable. Allah will reward you, and I am happy to help that Allah may also reward me in the afterlife.”
“Very well. We may indeed have old times to catch up on. And perhaps new ones,” the man said looking back into his menu.
Several seconds later the stranger closed his menu and placed it on the table, “May I have the labneh and hummus with pita bread?”
“Yes, I'll have it out in fifteen or so minutes,” Hiba said as she took the menu.
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