Desert Stars

by Joe Vasicek

  “Good afternoon, my love,” he said, stepping casually toward her with a sly grin on his face. The door quietly fell shut behind him, and his pure white robes swayed over the ground as he walked. With his dagger hanging from the brown leather ammunition belt at his waist, he cut a striking figure.

  “I-Ibrahim!” said Mira, nearly dropping her basket. She knelt to set it on the ground, before slipping on her headscarf. “It’s—it’s quite a surprise to see you.”

  “Is it, though?”

  His hands migrated to his belt, undoing the buckle as he continued to approach. Mira frowned.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I think we both know,” he said, his voice soft with the barest hint of an edge to it. “You certainly know how to lead a man on.”

  He undid the clasp to his belt and let it drop to the ground. Mira swallowed nervously.

  “L-lead you on?” she said uncertainly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Ibrahim threw back his head and laughed. “Don’t be so modest. I know you’ve received my many invitations. Lucky for you, I don’t mind having our little tryst right here.”

  You don’t know anything, Mira wanted to say, her heart pounding as she slowly backed away. If anything, though, that only made him approach faster.

  “Wait,” she said, her voice barely louder than a raspy whisper. “We need to talk. I—”

  “Shh, shh, shh,” he said, touching his finger to her lips. “Don’t waste your breath.”

  He took her by the waist, his grip firm and unyielding. A shudder passed through her body, and Ibrahim used his other hand to pull at her headscarf. The cloth fell to her shoulders, leaving her hair uncovered.

  “Stop that,” she said, her voice shaking. He only grinned wider.

  “Why?” he asked, smirking.

  “Because—because we need to talk first.”

  “Not now, my love. Later.”

  With an urgency born of lust, he pressed his lips against hers, his hands slipping down to her hips. Her heart surged with fear, but she couldn’t push him away—not without risking offense.

  “Stop!” she cried weakly as they collapsed together onto the dusty ground. He was on top of her now, his mouth on her neck as his hands hungrily sought their way beneath her robes. Flashbacks from the horrible night with Jalil flooded to her mind, and she started thrashing about, trying to throw Ibrahim off of her. Though she wasn’t able to move him, he took notice and stopped for a moment.

  “Gently, gently,” he said, smiling the same sly grin. “Unless that’s how you like it.”

  “What? No! Ibrahim, please—”

  “Shh. Trust me; you’ll enjoy this.”

  In that instant, she realized that there was no gentle way to turn him down anymore. She had to do something or he was going to rape her.

  He took her by the wrists, but before he could pin her down, she wrenched herself free and kicked him in the chest. He fell to his side and laughed.

  “Feisty, are we?” he said. “I like it.”

  “If you don’t stop,” said Mira, “I’m going to scream. I mean it.”

  He lunged for her, knocking over the tray of hydroponic strawberries. They fell across the dirt floor, the bright red fruit getting covered with dust and mud.

  Mira scrambled to get away, but before she could, Ibrahim turned her over onto her back. The top of his robe had come undone, revealing his muscular chest. He took her by her wrists again, this time pinning her down.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Yes, I would,” she whispered.

  The smile on his face started to fade. “If you do,” he said, “your family will throw you out.”

  “Please,” she said, “please get off of me.”

  He ignored her, letting go of one hand to undo the buttons on the front of her robe. His fingers worked deftly, running right between her breasts without any hesitation. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto her chest.

  We all live in the world of our own choosing, Master Rumiya’s words echoed in her mind. You are the Truth.

  She took in a deep breath. It was now or never.

  As Ibrahim slipped his hand underneath her robe, she screamed loud enough to make her ears shake. He hurriedly covered her mouth, but by then it was too late.

  “You bitch!” hissed Ibrahim, squeezing her jaw until pain shot through her cheeks. “You’ll pay for this.”

  He let go of her mouth and raised his hand to strike her, but before he could, the door flap swung open.

  “Mira? What’s wrong?” Tiera asked from across the room. The sound of her voice brought tears of relief to Mira’s eyes.

  “Help!” she screamed. “He’s raping me!” Instantly, Ibrahim leaped to his feet.

  “Is that true?” Tiera asked.

  “Of course not,” said Ibrahim, hastily buttoning his shirt. “This was all just a misunderstanding.”

  “He tried to rape me,” Mira said again, pointing a shaky finger at him as she sat up. “I was doing my chores, when he came in and—”

  With rage in his eyes, Ibrahim turned to strike her, but before he could Tiera stepped between them, wielding a dagger in one hand.

  “I’ll kill you if you touch her,” she said, her voice low and dangerous.

  Ibrahim regarded her for a moment, then lowered his fist and scowled. “Why would I? There are whores who look better than that bitch.”

  The insult would have stung more if Mira’s other sisters hadn’t already gathered by the door. From the way they stared, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, the balance of power had clearly shifted in Mira’s favor. Still, Ibrahim walked past them nonchalantly, as if nothing was wrong—as if raping his intended fiancée in her own camp was perfectly normal.

  Tiera turned and helped Mira to her feet. “Are you all right?”

  Mira didn’t know. Her legs were weak, and her heart pounded in her chest, making her dizzy. It seemed as if she were waking up from some sort of dream, only to find herself lost in another.

  “Come on,” said Tiera. “Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

  Mira hastily rebuttoned her robe. As they walked through the door, Surayya stared at her with her hands over her mouth, while Amina folded her arms and shook her head. Mira could hear her now: You made a mistake, girl. You should have gone along with it.

  “Let me out of here,” she cried, shrugging Tiera off as she ran from their judgmental stares. She ran blindly through the camp and away across the desert. Their voices followed her for a while, but the sound soon faded away into the hot wind. Only when she was out of earshot did she fall to her knees and bury her head in her hands.

  It didn’t change anything that had happened—or anything that would happen, for that matter. But at least for that brief moment, alone in the desert, she knew that she was free.

  * * * * *

  Jalil ate his tasteless gray porridge in silence, just as he had for the past few days. Neither Michelle nor Nash said anything, either. It had been this way ever since they’d arrived at the jump station half a light-year outside of Karduna. Though he no longer had to deal with the gut-wrenching sensation of jumpspace every hour, this waiting almost felt worse.

  “How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?” Michelle asked. The sound of her voice broke the silence like a rifle shot.

  “Don’t know,” said Nash. “The paperwork is going to be a nightmare, though. Two million refugees in the first seventy-two hours alone…”

  “Damn.”

  The silence returned. For nearly a minute, no one said anything.

  “You know,” said Michelle, her voice noticeably softer, “you don’t have to stay, Nash. You’re an imperial citizen—you could easily take a transport back to Gaia Nova and get out of this whole mess.”

  “And abandon you?” he said, setting down his spoon. For several moments, they both stared at each other.

  “At least you’d be safe,” said Michelle, turning away. She covered her face with her hand a
nd took a long breath.

  “‘Chelle,” said Nash, taking her other hand in both of his own. “‘Chelle, look at me. It’s okay—we’ll get through this. I promise.”

  Jalil rose from his seat and quietly climbed the ladder to the main corridor. Even though his meal was unfinished, something told him they needed to be alone.

  He reached the main corridor and palmed the keypad to the bridge. Lars was the only one inside; Jalil walked in and took a seat at the station next to him.

  “Oh, hi,” said Lars. “Feeling a little bored?”

  “Maybe,” said Jalil, turning to the window. Outside, the swarm of refugee ships glittered lazily around the enormous bulk of the jump station. A few moved back and forth between the long docking arm and the rest of the swarm, but most of them remained stationary, suspended in the weightlessness of space.

  “Where’s Mark?”

  “Dad? Oh, he took the shuttle to the administration office to try and get us clearance. Thought it would be better to try things face-to-face than by transmission.” He shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll work.”

  He doesn’t seem like himself, Jalil mused. Ever since the invasion, Lars had been a lot more pensive. Even now, he stared out the window at the stars, an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face. Not that Jalil blamed him.

  “At least the danger is behind us.”

  “I wouldn’t speak so quickly,” said Lars. “The way this war is going, I wouldn’t be surprised if Gaia Nova is the next system to fall.”

  Jalil frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Think about it. Where’s the next Imperial garrison between here and Gaia Nova? All the major bases are on the Tajjur side of the Empire, to guard their access to the New Pleiades. The Hameji took Karduna because it gives them a straight shot at the Imperial capital.”

  Jalil’s stomach fell as he remembered the mass accelerators, slagging Kardunash IV into oblivion. He thought of Mira, looking up at the sky as a ball of fire sped towards her, bringing death and destruction in its wake. The thought made his whole body shake.

  “Do you truly believe Gaia Nova will fall?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

  “Yes,” said Lars. “Unless the Imperials launch a decisive counterattack in the next couple of days, that’s how it looks.”

  Save me.

  Lars put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a halfhearted grin. “Hey, don’t take it so hard. No one really knows what’s going to happen next. Besides, this might cheer you up: I found Will Farland.”

  “You did? How?”

  “On the localnet. He escaped with a group of refugees seeking passage into the Empire like us. I’m going to meet with him after my sleep cycle—care to join me?”

  “Sure,” said Jalil, his heart pounding. What with the way events were cascading all around him, he didn’t know whether to be ecstatic, mournful, or frantic.

  At that moment, a chime announced an incoming transmission. Lars hit the button and leaned forward to speak into the microphone at his station.

  “Hello?”

  “Lars, son,” came Mark’s voice over the intercom. “I’ve got some good news.”

  “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

  “I found your mother.”

  Lars perked up at once.

  “Really? Where is she?”

  “She’s with me on the shuttle. We’re about ten minutes away, if you’ll give us clearance to dock.”

  “Of course,” said Lars. “How did you find her? What happened? How did she escape?”

  Mark’s chuckle mingled with the static of the transmission. “She came out on the Genevieve, along with a few family friends. It’s a long story—she’ll tell you herself once we’ve made it on board.”

  “Right, right—starting the autodocking sequence now.”

  He hit a few keys on the instrument panel before sprinting from his seat at a dead run toward the door. “‘Chelle!” he shouted. “Mom’s alive!”

  * * * * *

  A few minutes later, Jalil gathered with the others in the corridor below the airlock. The hatch opened, and everyone started talking at once.

  “Mom!”

  “‘Chelle! Lars!”

  Michelle lunged forward and threw her arms around her mother, Ellen Stewart, the moment she stepped from the ladder. Lars soon followed, with Nash standing to the side with arms folded. Mark climbed down last, smiling broadly as he wrapped his arms around them all.

  Not sure what to do, Jalil stood off with Nash and watched the happy reunion. Mother, father, daughter, and son laughed and cried, holding each other tight as if they would never let go. A lump rose in Jalil’s throat at the sight.

  “Mom, we’ve been worried sick about you! Ever since the invasion—”

  “How did you escape? Did they hurt you?”

  “Have they attacked the Colony? What’s going on back home?”

  “Hold on, guys,” Mark said, pushing the others back. “Give your mother some space.”

  “Thanks, honey,” Ellen said.

  As the others stepped back, Jalil got a better view of her. She was a slim, middle-aged woman, with blond hair and pearly-white skin. Though she smiled, she had a sad look on her face, as if still in shock from the things she’d been through.

  “I left before the Hameji arrived at the Colony,” she said. “They had already gotten to Kardunash III, though. I don’t know what they did there, but I’m sure…” Her voice faded out.

  Mark stepped forward and put his arm around her. “Fortunately, our home was spared from the worst of it. Last I heard, the Hameji have taken a few hostages, but have agreed not to leave a garrison in exchange for tribute.”

  “More importantly,” said Ellen, “they’re allowing civilians to return.”

  Lars nodded. “Then we have to go back.”

  “What?” said Michelle, spinning around to face him. “Go back? Are you crazy?”

  “It’s true,” said Mark, his expression gravely serious. “Your mother and I have talked about this, and we’ve decided that’s what we need to do.”

  “But—but the Hameji,” said Michelle. “How can we live under them? Remember what they did to K-4!”

  “Which is exactly why we need to go,” said Lars. “Can’t you see? Our fathers established the Colony as a bastion of democracy in a universe of kings and emperors. As long as I’m still alive, I’m not going to let that dream die.”

  Watching Lars, Jalil realized that something within the young man had changed. It was as evident as the light in his eyes, and the newfound confidence that quickened his step. A month ago, he had still been just a boy; now, he talked and acted as if he’d matured beyond his years.

  Michelle looked from her father to her brother and back again, biting her lip as if to hold back a flood of emotions.

  Mark put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, ‘Chelle,” he said. Then, turning to Nash, “I don’t expect you to come with us, and I don’t want to force you two apart. We’ll be leaving in three days on the Genevieve; if you’d like to come with us, you’re more than welcome, but if not—”

  “How could you do this?” Michelle screamed, pushing him off. “And just after we’re all together again, too!”

  Neither Mark nor Lars nor anyone else said anything. Jalil shifted uncomfortably as Michelle screamed again and stormed off towards the mess hall. Nash turned as if to follow her, then stopped and looked sheepishly back at Mark.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “‘Chelle—”

  “Let her go,” said Mark. “She needs some time alone to process all this. Besides, I see you have something on your finger there.”

  Nash glanced at his hand and blushed, but when he looked back up again, an insuppressible grin spread across his face.

  “Oh my God,” said Ellen, her eyes widening. “Is that a ring?”

  “Yes,” said Nash. “Michelle and I… we’re engaged to be married.”

  Ellen shrieked with delight and ran up to embrace
her future son-in-law. Mark stayed back, arms folded across his chest, but a broad smile slowly spread from ear to ear.

  “When did this happen? How did you propose? When are you getting married?” Ellen asked, one question blurring into the next. As she rattled on, Lars stepped forward and put a hand on Nash’s shoulder.

  “Congratulations,” he said simply. Their eyes met, and they both nodded.

  As Jalil stood by and watched them talk, his mind began to wander. All this talk of marriage made him think of Mira, for some reason. He imagined what it would have happened had he returned to the camp to marry her, rather than coming out to Karduna. Was that the better choice? Was he foolish to have left the only home he had known? But if he hadn’t come out to Karduna, he never would have found out that he was a citizen of the Colony. And what about Will Farland? Here was a chance to finally meet someone in his family—his real family. None of those opportunities would have come to him if he’d gone back to the Najmi camp with Mira.

  Besides, if he’d stayed on Gaia Nova, he would be oblivious to the Hameji and the danger they posed. To think of them bringing their mass accelerators into position above the rust-red desert, pummeling the surface into oblivion—

  Save me.

  “So what’s the plan?” asked Lars. “The Genevieve is leaving in three standard days; I take it we’re leaving with it?”

  “That’s right,” said Mark. He turned to Jalil. “You’re welcome to come with us, you know.”

  Jalil opened his mouth, but didn’t know what to say. He looked from Mark to Nash and back again, trying to come up with a response.

  Nash beat him to it. “What about the Bridgette?” he asked. “Why don’t you just take it?”

  “Good question,” said Mark. He put a fatherly hand on Nash’s shoulder. “You’ve been a loyal, hardworking crewman, but I know it’s not fair to expect you to come with us. You’re a citizen of the Empire; the Colony isn’t your home, and I don’t expect you to feel the same sense of patriotism that we do.”

  “Yes,” said Nash, “but ‘Chelle, she—”

  “She doesn’t deserve to have us decide the course of her life. Ever since she was a little girl, she wanted to travel the stars. The Bridgette is more of a home to her than the Colony ever will be. It saddens all of us to say goodbye, but I know she’ll never be happy if we make her come with us.”