Desert Stars

by Joe Vasicek

  Tomorrow, Mira thought to herself as she followed Jalil down the wide, skylit corridor of the spaceport terminal. Tomorrow, Jalil leaves forever.

  “Here’s our gate,” said Jalil. He stopped at a row of empty benches and dropped their bags as he sat down.

  “How long before we board?” Mira asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper. She took her seat next to him, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.

  He squinted and looked off to a screen on the opposite wall. “One hour and fifteen minutes.”

  Mira nodded and swallowed. Even though the sun shone harshly in a dark blue sky, the cloudy overhead windows diffused its light, illuminating the terminal in a bright but softened glow. It felt a little bit unreal, like something out of a dream—a dream where everything was slipping out of her control.

  Jalil turned and smiled at her, his muscular arms spread out casually over the back of the bench. Her heart pounded in her chest as she realized that this might be one of the last times she would be alone with him without anything to interrupt them. If she was ever to make a move, it would have to be now.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. “You look pale all of a sudden.”

  “It’s—it’s nothing,” she said, casting her eyes down. When she glanced back up at him, a troubled expression clouded his face—a look of genuine concern. He gently touched her arm, and she bit her lip and began to tremble.

  “Mira?” he said, his voice soft. “What’s wrong?”

  She took in a deep breath. “I was just thinking: when we arrive at the temple, and the journey’s over…” Her voice trailed off.

  His deep blue eyes met hers, and all the unfamiliar sights and sounds in the lightly trafficked terminal faded, leaving just the two of them. For the first time that day, she realized she wasn’t wearing her headscarf—yet somehow that no longer bothered her. In his presence, she felt whole, as if they’d shared a lifetime together.

  “Are you going miss us?” she asked.

  “Of course I’ll miss you,” Jalil said. “But how can I spend the rest of my life not knowing who I am or where I’m from? I’ve got to find out, Mira, no matter what it takes.”

  “But does that mean you have to leave us?”

  “If it means finding my home, then yes.”

  His answer shattered her. She felt as if her heart had dropped through the floor, leaving a terrible wound in her chest.

  “Will you miss me?” she whispered.

  He blinked, and his body grew suddenly tense. “Of—of course,” he stuttered.

  Adrenaline surged through her body as she put her hand on his knee. His eyes widened a little, but he gave no resistance as she moved closer to him.

  “Do you love me?”

  He opened his mouth as if to speak, but said nothing. Mira leaned forward until their lips were almost touching. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a gut-wrenching moment she feared he would push her away.

  But he didn’t. Instead, his mouth parted ever so slightly, and he leaned forward to meet her. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, and their lips touched, sending shivers down her spine. Her body tensed for a fraction of a second—just a tiny fraction—before turning to water in his arms.

  It was exactly as she’d imagined.

  But then without warning, Jalil’s body stiffened and tensed. Before she could react, he pushed her away and rose hastily to his feet.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, fear seizing her. “What did I—”

  “Nothing, nothing,” he said, his cheeks blushing bright red. “Are you hungry?”

  An awful sinking feeling grew in Mira’s gut. She looked into Jalil’s eyes, but saw no recognition of the moment they’d just shared—no acknowledgment that anything had changed between them.

  “Hungry?” she whispered.

  “Yes, hungry. It’s been a while since we’ve eaten, and I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.”

  Don’t let him go!

  “But what about—”

  “Stay here with the bags. I’ll be back in a minute.” Before Mira could protest, he was already walking away down the terminal.

  She leaned forward and buried her head in her hands. Tears stung her eyes, and she wished more than anything that she could hide behind her headscarf. True, she still had one in her bag, but now wasn’t the time to put it on—not at all.

  Mother was right, she thought to herself, hugging her chest. Why do you think God gave you these? Her breath came short and fast, and her head swam with dizziness. More than anything, she felt small—small, powerless, and hopelessly inexperienced. But if it was the only way…

  When you’re alone together, you’ll know what to do.

  * * * * *

  Jalil couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. It haunted his thoughts the entire flight, though Mira barely spoke a word. He glanced at her frequently from out of the corner of his eye, but she seemed strangely melancholy, absorbed in her thoughts.

  They flew low over a flat, featureless landscape—an unbroken sea of glass. The plane barely skimmed the surface, relying on its jets as much as its wings to stay aloft. The atmosphere above the domes was so thin, the sky was dark even in the middle of the day. The harsh sunlight glinted off of the reflective surface, causing the autotinted windows to dim as they landed in the late afternoon.

  The kiss still preoccupied him as he found a place for them to spend the night. The memory of her lips pressed against his shook him to his core in a way that nothing else ever had. It was as if he’d lived his whole life in black and white, and only now could see color. A host of new emotions swelled within him, ones that he’d felt on occasion but never truly understood.

  The hotel he found for them stood on the edge of the spaceport compound. The rates were a bit pricey, but here above the world it was the cheapest place he could find. Their room sat on the edge of the sprawling complex, with an unobstructed view of the endless sea of glass. When they first entered, the sun was low over the horizon, reflecting in brilliant shades of orange and red. It soon set, however, transforming the sky into cascading shades of purple and black. The stars and satellites came out soon after, shining so brilliantly that Jalil almost felt he could reach out and take them in his hand.

  He spread out his bedding on the floor as usual, but took a moment to lie face up on top of the bed while Mira was getting ready for the night. The skylight window filled almost the entire ceiling, giving him an unobstructed view of space. As he pondered the events of the day, Mira came out from the bathroom and sat down next to him, taking a moment to share the view.

  Two months ago, Jalil thought, I would have cringed at the thought of spending the night in the same room as Mira. Now, he barely gave it a second thought.

  Without a word, Mira reached over and ran her fingers through his hair. Jalil tensed a little, but made no move to stop her. The soft starlight illuminated her face and gave her a dreamy beauty. They stared silently into each others’ eyes for some time, savoring the moment.

  What’s this? he wondered. Another kiss?

  His heart beat a little faster as she continued to stroke his hair. Her touch was surprisingly pleasant, and he let out a long breath as his body relaxed. With her other hand, she gently undid his belt. He considered stopping her, but felt too tired to offer any resistance.

  She paused for a moment to unbutton the front of his robes, leaving his chest bare. He shifted warily as if to sit up, but she bent down and pressed her lips against his, sending tingles down his spine. His head swam with dizziness, and the tension melted right out of him.

  As they kissed, she climbed up until she was straddling him. Something told him that they were about to cross a line, but he felt like a spectator in his own body, unable to do anything but watch.

  They kissed again. Her breath felt warm against his cheek, and his own breath started to come a little heavier. He felt a powerful urge to hold her, to reach his own hands around her body, stroke her hair, her shoulder
s, her hips. A primal hunger opened deep within him, coloring his feelings and desires until they lost all coherence.

  Mira pulled away from him and sat up, reaching down to her waist with crossed arms. In one smooth motion, she pulled her shirt over her head, letting it fall to the floor. The glow of the stars illuminated her skin in a soft, diffuse light, playing off of her shoulders and breasts.

  Jalil drew in a sharp breath and began to sweat as Mira leaned forward and started rubbing his chest. Is this wrong? It reminded him of the girls at the cantina, though that seemed like such a distant memory. He hesitated, imprisoned in a tangled web of conflicting thoughts and feelings, but the urge to hold her was too great. As he reached his hands around Mira’s back and drew her closer to him, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his in a kiss more vigorous than the first. The lust in his body pulsed and burned until it threatened to tear him apart.

  As he undid the sash around her waist, however, he felt her grow tense for a fraction of a second. A wave of shame washed over him, and his arms and hands trembled with revulsion as he realized what he was doing. He felt as if he were covered in human excrement—covered so deep he was swimming in it. He pushed Mira off of him and tumbled to the floor.

  “Jalil?”

  He ignored her and stumbled through the door to the bathroom. The ceiling here was opaque; a dim yellow light switched on automatically as he entered. He found a sink and splashed cold water across his face, trying to cool his sweaty, trembling body.

  “Jalil, what’s wrong?” came Mira’s voice behind him. He felt her hand on his shoulder.

  “Get away,” he practically screamed. She hesitated by the door for a moment before leaving, the sound of her bare feet pattering against the floor.

  He stood over the sink for a long time, cold water dripping down his chest as his breath came short and ragged. Gradually, the fire in his body died down, leaving him little more than a cold, burned-out shell.

  When he returned to the bedroom, he found Mira sitting on the bed, still only partially dressed. She watched him with anxious eyes, as if fearful that he would strike her.

  “Jalil?” she asked in a trembling voice. “What’s wrong?”

  “We can’t do this,” he said. “It’s wrong.”

  “What do you mean? I—I love you.”

  “This isn’t love. It’s something else.”

  “But—but please, don’t you—I mean—”

  Her voice cracked, and she started to break down into tears. Jalil found himself at a total loss.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “Don’t you think I’m beautiful? Don’t you think I’m good enough for you?”

  This isn’t the Mira I know, he realized. Something else is going on here.

  Mira rose to her feet and walked over to him. With shaky, nervous hands, she tried to undo the sash around his waist, but he took her firmly by the wrists and stopped her.

  “Mira, what’s going on? Tell me.”

  She collapsed to her knees by his feet and started to sob uncontrollably. “But we have to—we have to,” she repeated over and over again. Confused, Jalil gently helped her to her feet and sat down next to her on the bed.

  “What are you saying?” he asked.

  “Can’t you see?” she cried. “You have to come back to the camp—you have to. Mother told me to do anything, even…”

  Jalil froze where he stood, his blood turning to ice. “What do you mean?”

  Mira stopped crying long enough to pull herself together. “It was my parents,” she said. “They—they told me to do anything to get you to come back. Even this.” She looked down at the ground, tears still streaming down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Jalil—I’m so sorry.”

  The blood drained out of Jalil’s face, leaving him feeling numb. He stood and braced himself against the wall for support. Sathi didn’t trust me to keep his daughter’s honor, he thought in horror to himself. He trusted me not to run away after I dishonored her.

  He felt dirty all over. Dirty, and full of rage—at the world, at his father, but most of all at himself.

  “Please don’t be angry,” Mira pleaded. “I—I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  What did you mean, then? Jalil wondered, clenching his fists. You lied to me!

  He stumbled to the other side of the room, feeling as if the floor were giving way beneath him. If Sathi and Shira had conspired to do this, everything they’d ever taught him was a lie. A sham. They were no more honorable than Gregor, or Lucien, or the cantina girls.

  With a gut-wrenching scream, he slammed his fist against the wall. He punched it over and over, until his fists were numb and bloody. When all his energy was spent, he sat on the floor, hands covering his face. The room was eerily silent.

  “I’m sorry,” Mira whispered.

  “I know,” said Jalil.

  A minute passed. Mira stood up and walked quietly over to him. Tentatively, she put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Can’t you just come back with me?” she asked. “Even if—”

  She drew back as Jalil rose to his feet. He turned to face her, blood still oozing from his battered knuckles.

  “Is that the price your parents sold you for?”

  “I didn’t—I mean—they told me we’d be married when we got back,” she said, stuttering. “If you’re the only man I ever, well—they said I could still have strawberries at my wedding.”

  Jalil inwardly recoiled in horror, but kept his expression stoic. “And you agreed to this?” he asked.

  Mira opened her mouth, but words failed her. She hung her head and avoided his gaze.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I,” said Jalil, “but I can’t go back with you.”

  She collapsed on the bed and wept into one of the pillows. Without a word, Jalil took one of the blankets from the foot of the bed and laid it out across the floor.

  “I’m sorry, Mira. Goodnight.”

  She was still crying when he fell asleep.

  Chapter 10

  Jalil woke nearly an hour before dawn to say his morning prayers. The light of the unborn sunrise dimmed the stars as it shone down into the room, casting everything in shades of blue and gray. He kept the light off as he dressed, so as not to disturb Mira. She lay on top of the covers with her face still buried in the pillow.

  He paused at the bedside and looked down at her. She looked so young and innocent, sleeping peacefully on the pure white bedsheets. As he stared, though, the memory of last night filled him with an overwhelming sense of shame and confusion.

  I can never go back, he realized, picking up his things as he turned to leave. There is nothing left for me on this world.

  He walked down the hallway to the hotel’s tiny prayer hall and spent the next half-hour meditating in silence. It calmed him to watch the uniform horizon as the sky gradually grew lighter. The landscape looked so clean and pure—a sea of glass, so close to the sky that he felt he could step outside and walk among the stars.

  A handful of other guests trickled silently into the room. Jalil did not see Mira among them.

  As the patrons bowed silently to whisper their morning prayers, Jalil reached underneath his shirt and pulled out his mother’s pendant. This was what had brought him across such a long distance—the compass that pointed to his destiny, the key that would unlock the door to his new life. He held tenderly it in his hands as he bowed his head.

  In the name of Allah, the Merciful, the Compassionate, he prayed silently. I may not be sinless, but I’ve tried to do your will as best as I know how. Please bless the priests of the Holy Archives to read the data in this pendant and show me where you would have me go.

  * * * * *

  Mira wanted nothing more than to run away. After last night, just the thought of being in the same room as Jalil filled her with shame and embarrassment. Fortunately, when she awoke, he was already gone. She cried a little as she got ready for the day, but composed herself with little trouble
.

  He returned to their hotel room shortly after morning prayers.

  “The next train leaves for the temple in forty-five minutes,” he said. “Will you be ready to go?”

  “Yes,” Mira whispered, too ashamed to meet his eyes.

  She put on her headscarf before leaving the room, wrapping it tightly around her face so that only her eyes were visible. After so many days with her head uncovered, it felt strange to be wearing it again. Certainly, if it was meant to protect her modesty and shield her from the sinfulness of the world, it had utterly failed. Now, it was only good for hiding her filthiness from others.

  Jalil said nothing as they left the dorms and boarded the train. The silence felt painfully awkward, but Mira wasn’t about to break it.

  The train to the temple was smaller than the others, with windows that stretched across both walls and partway up the ceiling. They gave her a magnificent view of the dark-blue sky and the featureless glassy landscape that stretched in all directions to the horizon. Except for the lack of wind in her face, it felt as if she were in a caravaneer, with nothing over her head except the bars of the roll cage.

  After nearly an hour, the ground began to slope downwards. The other passengers craned their necks and stared anxiously ahead. Jalil was among them; he leaned forward in his seat and stood up halfway, trying to see over the others. For her part, though, Mira shrunk down in her seat and tried to make herself invisible.

  A chorus of oohs and ahhs rippled through the train. The buzz of breathless conversations filled her ears, and she covered them with her hands to block out the noise. To her dismay, Jalil nudged her arm excitedly.

  “Mira, look!” he said, pointing out the window on her side of the car. “You can see it!”

  Mira sighed and lifted her head. When she caught sight of the temple, however, her eyes widened in awe.

  The four oldest domes on Gaia Nova met at a rounded corner, tapering gradually at first before dropping sharply like a giant whirlpool or sinkhole. From the center of the hole, a giant, ivory-white tower spiraled into the sky, stretching upward into the dark blue heavens. It reminded her of a seashell that a trader had once brought to the camp, thicker at the base with smaller towers jutting out at regular intervals like knobs. Flying buttresses connected it to the four domes, and along these a steady stream of traffic ran up to the main structure, trains so small that they looked almost like tiny insects climbing the stem of an enormous plant.