Desert Stars

by Joe Vasicek

  To Jalil’s surprise, his father sat up and brought out a thermos of coffee from the side of the couch. From a side drawer, he produced two tiny ceramic cups and set them on the table.

  “So it’s my blessing you want, is it?” he asked, filling both cups with the thick, black liquid. He pushed one of them across the table.

  “Yes,” said Jalil, accepting the glass with shaky hands. The coffee would seal their meeting, but until the sheikh drank from his cup, there was no agreement, no understanding. No deal.

  “As much as it pains me to see you leave,” Sathi continued, “your decision comes at an auspicious moment.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Sathi lifted the cup of coffee to eye level and stared casually at it. “My daughter, Mira, approached me not a month ago, expressing her desire to make the pilgrimage. She has experienced something of a religious awakening recently, and wishes to go now, before she marries. Of course, I told her that it would be better to wait—that it’s customary for a woman to wait to make the pilgrimage with her husband—but when I told her this, she broke down into tears.”

  Jalil frowned. “Why?”

  “Because she’s afraid she’ll never marry.”

  At those words, Jalil sat upright.

  “What? How is that possible? Mira is a wonderful, beautiful girl—anyone would be lucky to marry her.”

  “I know,” said Sathi, “but who would want to marry their sons into a tribe as weak as ours? They would certainly gain no advantage by it. And since most of her cousins are either married or gone to the domes, her chances of finding a husband in the desert are very slim indeed.”

  Jalil was dumbstruck. He’d never thought Mira would have a problem finding a husband—but now that his father mentioned it, he had to admit that the outlook was worse than he’d thought.

  “What are you getting at?” he asked.

  “Can’t you see, my son? If my beloved daughter is to make the pilgrimage, now may be her only opportunity. Few convoys come out this far, and without a husband to escort her, I would never think of sending her alone.” He swirled the coffee in his cup, eying it meaningfully.

  “Wait,” said Jalil, realization slowly dawning on him. “You want to send her with me?”

  Sathi smiled wide. “That’s right.”

  Jalil swallowed. “But who would be our chaperone? The temple is on the other side of the world—it might take us months to get there.”

  Sathi laughed. “Chaperone! My dear boy, what makes you think I could spare a chaperone for that long?”

  “But—just the two of us? Alone?”

  “Don’t worry; I know I can trust her with you. You are a man of honor, after all.”

  “But what will the other tribes think?”

  “As far as they know, you’re brother and sister. They won’t think it unusual for you to travel together.”

  Jalil paused to work through all the implications of his father’s request. “But if I’m leaving the camp for good, how will she get back?”

  “I have a wealthy aunt who lives in one of the domes next to the temple,” said his father. “She can afford to fly her to the spaceport in the east desert, and I will make arrangements with the Jabaliyn to bring her the rest of the way. Speaking of which, how much have you saved up for the journey?”

  “Uh, about eight hundred credits.”

  Sathi clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Not nearly enough. Agree to escort Mira, and I’ll give you triple that.”

  “Twenty-four hundred?” Jalil asked, blinking in surprise. “You would give me that much?”

  “For my own flesh and blood? Of course.”

  Jalil glanced down at the cup of coffee in his hand and nervously fingered his locket. Twenty-four hundred Gaian credits was a lot of money; it would be foolish to refuse his father’s support. Still, something felt wrong about the offer.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s just—”

  “Please, son—think of Mira. The greatest desire of her heart is to make the pilgrimage. You asked for my blessing, knowing full well I would never give you my permission, but how can I give you my blessing if you refuse to take my daughter?”

  “I just don’t know, Father,” said Jalil, stumbling over his words. “Are you saying that if I agree to escort her, you’ll give me your blessing?”

  “Precisely.”

  “And the money?”

  “Only if you take her with you.”

  Jalil shifted uneasily. Mira might be his sister by adoption, but that didn’t mean she was off-limits. After all, in the desert, first cousins often married—even first cousins who’d grown up in the same camp. For him and Mira to travel so far together, without a chaperone—

  But wasn’t that what Tiera had asked of him? He had no doubt that her intentions had been honorable. If he could trust Tiera, who only wanted to set out on her own, why should he trust Mira any less? Especially if her greatest desire was to make the pilgrimage, as Sathi had said.

  Besides, Jalil needed the money—badly. The temple lay on the other side world, and though eight hundred credits would take him far, he doubted it would take him the entire way.

  “All right,” he said. “I agree.”

  “Excellent!” boomed Sathi. With a flourish of his hand, he downed the coffee in one gulp. Jalil grinned and drank his own, relief flooding through him. After they’d both finished, they rose to their feet and embraced.

  “Good luck, my boy,” said Jalil’s father as he pulled him close. “May Allah go with you both.”

  * * * * *

  “Mira? You’re leaving?”

  Mira looked up from her packing to see Rina standing in the doorway to the older girls’ tent. Amina and Surayya were probably out doing chores—or seeing off the Jabaliyn men, which was more likely. Either way, she was alone with her little sister.

  “Yes,” said Mira, packing her last set of clothes. “I’m going away for a while.” Sunlight filtered in through the coarse weave of the dark tent fabric, the only indication in the dimly lit room that it was day outside.

  “Where?”

  Mira gave her a reassuring smile. They’d always been the quiet ones in the family, and with a mother and sisters as vocal as theirs, that had given them a bond that the others couldn’t understand. I’m going to miss her, Mira realized as she contemplated the long journey ahead of her.

  “Do you know the picture in the front hall? The one with the pretty white tower surrounded by a landscape of glass?”

  Rina’s eyes widened. “You’re going there?”

  Mira nodded. As she closed the canvas duffel bag and rose from the stiff mattress pad that had served as her bed for most of her life, her little sister ran up and hugged her knees, as if to never let go.

  “Oh, Rina!” she laughed. “Don’t be sad. I’m not going to be gone forever.”

  Rina sniffed and looked up with her wide, innocent eyes. “When will you be back?”

  The question made Mira think back to the conversation with Shira the day before in the darkened cellar. If you fail…

  “God-willing, not long.”

  Rina’s shoulders shook as she quietly began to sob. Mira dropped her bag and knelt down, touching a hand to her face.

  “Rina? What’s wrong?”

  “When Mother says ‘God-willing,’ it always means ‘no.’”

  Mira wrapped her arms around her little sister and held her in a warm embrace. “I’ll come back,” she whispered. “I promise.”

  She held Rina tight until her sobbing stopped. Outside, the shouts of the Jabaliyn men and the starting of engines sounded through the fabric of the tent.

  “I have to leave now,” she said, letting Rina go as she rose to her feet. “Be good now.”

  Rina nodded and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, her eyes still filled with the sadness of goodbye.

  Mira slipped on her headscarf with one hand and lifted her duffel bag with the other. Strange to think it contained nea
rly all of her worldly belongings: a few changes of clothes, some headscarves, a set of prayer beads, and a pretty stone that Rina had found in the desert and given to her. The rest—mostly some old pieces of jewelry, including some copper-gold bracelets and a pair of garnet earrings—she wore on her person.

  Smiling one last time at her little sister, she walked down the outer corridor toward the side entrance. Rina watched her go, but didn’t follow.

  The glaring light of the sun made Mira squint and lift a hand to cover her eyes. It was already late afternoon, and the heat of the day had reached its peak only an hour before. Several of the young men loading the caravaneers had foreheads streaked with sweat, while perspiration pooled in their robes under their arms.

  Practically the entire camp had come out to see the Jabaliyn convoy off. Shira stood by Mira’s father, arms folded across her finest embroidered red and black robes. Little Majd and Alia stood by her knees, looking on with wide, wonderstruck eyes. Zayne embraced Jalil at the door of one of the caravaneers, Tiera standing aloof a few paces behind her.

  Mira stopped and turned around to look back at her home one last time. The tents from the wedding were still up, their once bright colors faded from exposure to sun and sand. Beside them stood the reddish-brown adobe huts of the camp, the ancient windmill outlined sharply against the deep blue sky. Her eyes lingered on the faded brown tent that had served as the bedroom for her and her older sisters since childhood. She imagined Rina watching through the peephole and gave a weak smile. Beyond, the dusty plain stretched out in all directions toward the seemingly infinite horizon. Surrounded on all sides by harsh, unforgiving desert, the camp seemed like the only safe place in the world—and she was leaving it.

  “Mira!” came Shira’s voice from behind her. “What are you waiting for, girl? The convoy’s leaving!”

  With a heavy heart, Mira swung her bag around and hauled it toward the waiting convoy. The warm exhaust from the rumbling engines licked at her face and caused the air to ripple.

  Jalil ran to meet her. “Here,” he said, “let me take that for you.” Before she could object, he snatched the bag from her hand and threw it onto the caravaneer.

  Sathi and Shira walked forward. As Zayne stepped back to join them, Shira took her husband’s arm and held onto him possessively, the way she always did when Zayne was around.

  “Jalil, my son,” said Sathi. “I have something for you.”

  “Yes?” said Jalil. “What’s that?” He jumped down from the caravaneer and went to see his father.

  Sathi reached into his light tan robes and pulled out the gift. At the sight of it, Mira gasped—it was her father’s gold- and bronze-plated sniper rifle, a priceless family heirloom.

  “What?” said Jalil, eyes widening. “Father, I can’t—”

  “Please take it, I beg of you. Take it to remember us by.”

  “But—but that’s your grandfather’s rifle. I can’t possibly accept it.”

  Shira clucked in disapproval, making Mira cringe.

  “You would refuse my parting gift?” Sathi asked, a wounded expression on his face. “Please, my son—take it. I would be honored.”

  Jalil hesitated for a moment, torn with indecision. Mira knew, of course, what her father was trying to do. Any extra reason for Jalil to return would work in the sheikh’s favor. The pre-emptive guilt written across Jalil’s face showed that the ploy was working.

  “Very well,” he finally said, taking it carefully with both hands. “Thank you, Father.”

  A broad grin spread across Sathi’s face, and they embraced and kissed on both cheeks. As they did, Shira turned and gave Mira a sharp glance.

  “Make sure he returns,” she hissed under her breath. “Don’t come back without him.”

  Mira shuddered. Her mother’s face was veiled, but the look in her eyes was enough to tell Mira that she was deadly serious.

  “Goodbye, Shira,” said Jalil, coming between them. “I’ll miss you.”

  “As will I,” said Shira. The fierceness had evaporated instantly from her face, and she sniffled for effect. Mira stiffened as her mother embraced Jalil, then turned back to embrace her.

  “I mean it,” she whispered menacingly in Mira’s ear. “Don’t fail me.”

  The other goodbyes passed as if in a daze. By the time it was over, Mira wanted nothing more than to curl up by herself into a little ball.

  “All right,” said Jalil as the others returned to the camp. “You ready to go?”

  Mira hesitated for a moment, staring off at the camp. Her knees grew weak, while behind her, an engine revved, and the first of the caravaneers rode off across the dusty plain.

  “Mira?” said Jalil.

  “I’m coming,” she whispered. Before she could say no, she climbed into the back of the waiting caravaneer.

  * * * * *

  Jalil watched from the back seat as the twilit desert raced by. His checkered headscarf fluttered in the wind, and he squinted against the dust kicked up from the caravaneers ahead of them. Thankfully, Hamza, their driver, kept far enough out on the convoy’s flank that the billowing cloud didn’t obstruct Jalil’s view. The mountains, once almost on the horizon, now loomed close enough to make out the crooked lines of strata running along the ridge. While shadows filled the canyons and darkened the rocky foothills, the craggy peaks still shone from the light of the setting sun. The sky overhead turned orange and red; soon, it would fade to purple and black as the stars and satellites came out overhead.

  A strange, unfamiliar longing stirred in Jalil’s heart as he watched the land he knew so well pass by. Not far from here was the site of the first camp, the one he’d come to as a boy shortly after Sathi had found him lost in the desert. He felt much the same way as he had when they’d moved away from that site, out into the middle of the plains. Though he’d come back periodically with Tiera to check on the cistern and make sure no one was squatting, it never felt quite the same. All those abandoned stone and adobe structures, devoid of life except for the ants and an occasional lizard—it felt too empty to have ever been his home.

  Is that how I’ll feel about the Najmi camp someday? he wondered as the caravaneer began the climb to the pass. The thought filled him with fear, until he remembered the sun-bleached ruins of the derelict spaceship—the one that had brought him to this world. If he’d made it through that, surely he could live through this.

  As the incessant hum of the engines reverberated in his ears, he turned and glanced over at Mira, fast asleep in the seat next to him. Her dusty black robes and headscarf covered all but her slender hands, fingers curled near her face. Of all the strange requests Sathi could have made—but it made sense that Mira would want to make the pilgrimage with him, even if coming alone with him was questionable. When a boy and a girl are alone together…

  Nothing will happen, Jalil told himself. His father trusted him to be a man of honor, and he wasn’t about to betray that trust. Besides, Mira was nothing more than a sister to him; a stunningly beautiful sister, but a sister nonetheless.

  His fingers reached for the pendant under his robes, and he stroked it gently, his thoughts drifting back to the voyage ahead. The darkening sky faded to black, and the stars and satellites began their nightly dance as the faint, cloudy mass of the Good Hope Nebula rose with the crescent moon before them. The arc of the galaxy shone down softly, tracing a path through the heavens like a bridge to far away worlds. Down below, the craggy peaks stood like sentinels, watching over the lonely desert land that Jalil knew so well. But he knew it wasn’t the land that held his destiny—it was the stars above.

  Part II

  Chapter 4

  Jalil cracked open his eyes, head swimming as he woke from the half-sleep of the past several hours. The caravaneer continued to jolt him from side to side as it raced across the landscape, the roar of the engine filling his newly awakened ears. Yawning, he glanced out at the rust-red desert around them. Although nearly two weeks had passed since they’d set out
from the Najmi camp, the landscape wasn’t much different than when they’d started.

  Without warning, a high-pitched scream split the air like the cry of some unholy beast. Mira cried out next to him and covered her ears, while Jalil grabbed his father’s rifle and climbed onto his seat. Wrapping his arm around the caravaneer’s frame for support, he sighted the rifle and scanned the barren landscape behind them for a target.

  He saw it just as it passed over the horizon—a tiny black dot, high in the clear blue sky. It moved with the speed of a shooting star, disappearing from sight only seconds later.

  “Ha!” laughed Hamza from the forward seat. “Frightened a bit easily, are we?” He glanced up at Jalil over his shoulder, his thick black beard revealing a portly smile.

  “Watch your driving,” Jalil muttered as he slipped back down into his seat, keeping his rifle on his lap. To his right, Mira turned and looked at him, eyes wide beneath her dusty veil. The caravaneer was more of an escort vehicle than a long range carrier, with the back seats slightly elevated and empty sockets for a pair of miniguns set on a crossbar running in front of them. Because of its smaller size, they sat close enough that their knees touched.

  “I suppose you’re wondering what that was,” said Hamza. The driver’s seat rode practically on the ground, so that Jalil had a clear view of the dirty checkered headscarf wrapped around Hamza’s balding head.

  “Yes. What was that thing?”

  “A carrier bird. Space taxi. The devil’s caravaneer. The people of Babylon use those things to fly themselves up to the heavens; only Allah knows what they do there.”

  Jalil turned and looked to the sky behind them, nervously fingering the pendant around his neck as he did so. Next to him, Mira shifted uncomfortably.

  “You called them the people of Babylon. Why?”

  Hamza coughed and spat. “A long time ago, in the days of Earth, the people of Bab-el thought to rival Allah and built a tower to reach the heavens. Allah became angry and smote them for their wickedness, scattering them to the four corners of the planet. In our day, man does the opposite. He thinks to dig a cave deep enough to hide him from his Creator. That, my friends, is our Babylon. In only a few moments, you will see it with your own eyes.”