There are seldom few of us left who still practice the old faiths. Many have given up religion altogether in the advent of space travel. Allah shall judge them all in the end.
My name is Fawzia Dokhtar-i-Sanjar bint Rizzo Abd al-Qaadir Sanjar-i-Dokhtar ibn Rustam Temptir ibn Abul al-Maliik Sanjar-i-Dokhtar. I travel with my family, on board the "Last Mosque". A dramatic title, though we are not truly the last. Followers of Allah and the Qur'an are spread thin, but we refuse to be left to the decay of time. For as said on Bani Isra'il 17:11, "Man prays for evil in the manner he ought to pray for good. Man is ever hasty."
The Last Mosque seeks to follow the path of Allah, and bring His light to the infidels.
Fawzia lifted her head from the floor, and finished her prayer. She muttered her thanks and stood, her black hair falling loose from her ears where she had it tucked. She placed her veil across her mouth, leaving the top half of her face exposed. They were forced to adapt with time and space, and some customs had to be altered or be lost forever. It was no longer socially acceptable for women to cover their faces with veils, so they wore them across their mouths, as a sign of purity
She extinguished the candles on the alter, and left the room, closing the door behind her. The Last Mosque was a Democritus Yacht, that her family had purchased off Spa&Cruise, as an alternative to the ship being scrapped. It came bare bones, and from one generation to the next, the ship was modified and tweaked to suit their needs. Sacrificing much luxury for piety does not mean it is not aesthetically appealing. Magnificent, sprawling art pieces adorned the walls. Walls and ceilings bore paintings dedicated to whatever idea the artist had at the time. The precious metals and gems adorned the altars and shrines to Allah, and the choices pieces of food and wine went to the animals.
They ran farms on the Mosque, to support a small herd of grazing animals. This was their primary source of food. They often had to trade for more food and supplies, often paying with pieces of art, which were renowned to be exotic and different.
The Mosque was almost constantly flying, only stopping on planets and stations for trade. The Dokhtar-i-Sanjars had remarkable engineering prowess to keep it running constantly. Unfortunately, being constantly in space lead to changes over the generations. The most notable was the deterioration of the immune system. As such, whenever they had to leave the Mosque, they wore face masks, long gloves and boots, and a immuno-regulator necklace, which would deploy an immediate antibiotic to the external carotid artery, in case of infection.
The second major change was their physique. Even with the artificial gravity, each generation was a little taller than the last, though unless they went through a special treatment from birth to their teen years, bone density would decline sharply. Fawzia stood 6'6 at nineteen years.
An explosion rocked the ship. Lights went dark, then the red emergency lights powered on. Fawzia clung to the wall, her eyes wide with shock. Her father's voice said over the ship-wide comms, "We have a breach to the port reactor. Looks like it's finally given out. Hold tight, we're dispatching an SOS.
The eighty-year old powercore finally gave way. The distress signal was sent, and it was time to wait. And wait the Dokhtar-i-Sanjar family did, for several hours. It was not a bored wait, however. The entire family was clad in their infection prevention suits, rushing to fix radiation leaks from the dying power core. When at last, Fawzia's brother, Aadil, made an announcement,
"We have a Junker vessel on the long-range scans, closing in fast! Fawzia, move to the communications deck." Fawzia did as she was bid, and hailed the Junker ship, the .:j:.Mascius. No sooner had the Mascius positioned itself next to the Mosque, the short-range scanners picked up a large wave of attacking Xenos. The guns of the Mosque were in synchronization of those of the Junker's, and the wave was destroyed. But the anchor connecting the Mosque to it's asteroid was hit, and time was running out before it simply snapped.
The transfer of materials went swiftly, with a half dozen Junker Congress vessels present. Basic repairs were made to the radiation leaks, and damaged Engine parts were replaced. The Mosque engaged cruise engines.
Fawzia's other brother, Quasim, struggled to breathe, even through his mask. The engines were coughing and smoking horribly. But they were able to limp the ship to Rochester base, where it now sits, Junker crews working alongside the Dokhtar-i-Sanjars to repair the damaged power core.
Komal, Fawzia's younger sister, began to work on a grand painting, depicting the heroism of the Junker repair fleet.