Making Jews of us all
The face is a green mass of bubbles, some of which serve the damned thing as eyes.
I can only see the mouth when it speaks, when the green color fades slightly to a more yellow green.
I can’t make out all the words the creature says.
It is like listening to a sponge, each word thick with a bubbling sound.
Yet I’m too scared to ask for it to repeat anything.
He and his green companions are pirates after all, cooperating with us – not because they believe in our mission to overthrow the tyrant régime on this planet, but because of the plunder they will receive in credits.
My captain warned me not to trust them.
He said nothing about my inability to understand their watery words, even though we are supposed to be speaking the same universal tongue.
We have so little time.
We need to transport the weapons we get here to the underground farther inland before the PNAC wipes them out.
Their resistance here is our last hope, our last foothold on this work and in this system, and if this system falls, we must abandon our out posts for more remote star clusters too far away for our warships to strike effectively.
One of my men mumbles something about “storm troopers.”
Everybody shivers.
The green-skinned mass of bubbles demands to know where the money is and I demand to know where the weapons are.
We all hear the whine of PNAC vehicles nearby, the constant patrols that make this planet one more piece of living hell PNAC has created.
People who forget their history have a tendency to repeat it, one philosopher once said.
But even those who remember repeat it, and sometimes, deliberately – as is with PNAC – who admire the 20th Century Nazi so much they recreated that society, insisting on spreading their police state across the galaxy even when free people like ours resisted them.
We did not want to become part of their capitalistic slave state.
It all started back on earth when the Christian PNAC set Jew against Arab long enough for PNAC to take over.
Afterwards, Jews and Arabs suffered.
What folly!
Why had not the Jews remembered their own history – such as the fall of Babylon or their time in Spain?
Could they not see how similar PNAC was to the Christian Crusades?
The green creatures bubbles words of warning at me, saying we have stayed in this place too long.
One of my men yells out “PNAC is coming!” and we scatter, like dust in the wind, just as PNAC’s machineguns open fire, killing the green creature and his companies, killing even a few of my men.
We flee the wrath of PNAC, which makes Jews out of us all, and plans for us the same final solution the Nazis once planned for the Jews.
I know I will die.
The question is when and where and do we die with a yell or a whimper?
I know how I will go when my time comes, and I grip my weapon tighter as I flee.