by Joe Vasicek
“Yes,” said Lars, stepping back to include Jalil in the conversation. “Gavin, this is Will Farland.”
Jalil hesitated a moment before accepting his hand and shaking it. Will Farland was perhaps five or ten years older than him, with pale skin, tousled blond hair, high cheekbones, and dark blue eyes. He felt a strange sense of deja vu at their meeting—as if he was meeting a version of himself from the future.
“I’m sorry, Will” said Lars, “but I’ve got some business to take care of. I’ll be back in about half an hour.”
“Sounds good. See you then.”
Once Lars was gone, Will turned and gave Jalil a polite smile. “Well, shall we have a seat?”
“Yes,” Jalil whispered. “Let’s do that.”
The food court sat at the intersection of two major thoroughfares, with hundreds of tables clustered in the center. High overhead, the starfield shone through giant glass windows, dimmed a little by the bright halogen lights around the edge of the ceiling but still quite magnificent.
Even though almost all the tables were full, few people seemed to be eating. Jalil glanced over at the restaurants and noticed that most of them were caged up. Squads of armed security guards patrolled the perimeter, no less than three per group with weapons in hand. Most of the people in the crowd seemed fairly harmless, but their frightened eyes and quick, scattered glances betrayed a collective anxiety—one that reflected the feelings of his own heart.
“Here, have a seat,” Will said, directing them to a small table against the wall. Jalil sat down on the molded plasteel chair, and Will took the chair across from him, folding his hands on the table.
“I’m sorry I don’t have any food to offer you,” he said. “Most of the employees here have fled, and it looks like there’s going to be a major shortage on the station.”
“That’s fine—I didn’t expect anything,” said Jalil, a little taken aback.
“Good. It’s generally a bad idea to expect charity from anyone these days.” Will glanced in either direction before looking him in the eye. “So I understand you’re Gavin Farland?”
Jalil took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes. At least, that was my birth name.”
“And you’ve come from Gaia Nova to search out your family?”
“Yes.”
Will reached down and unstrapped the small console on his wrist, connecting the device to a dock on the side of the table. The tabletop blinked as an image appeared on it. Jalil pulled back his hands in surprise, staring at the glowing image before him. It displayed a series of names, ordered by column and connected by lines, so that from left to right the first column had one name, the second had two, the third had four, and so on.
“What is that?”
“A pedigree chart of the Farland family,” said Will. “The name at the head is your own, with the parents listed as Scott and Dierdre. Do either of those names ring a bell?”
Jalil’s eyes widened. “Dierdre—that’s my mother.”
“And Scott is your father?”
“I—I guess so, yes.”
“You guess? How do you know that Dierdre is your mother?”
Jalil reached inside of his shirt and pulled out the pendant. “Because of this.”
“May I see that?”
Jalil handed it to him. Will held it up to the light and examined it for a moment.
“A standard Kardunasian ID chip,” he said. “Let’s see what it says.”
He plugged it into a port next to the wrist console, letting the lanyard dangle over the edge of the table. The pedigree chart faded into the tabletop and another image popped into view—the same image of his mother that Jalil had seen in the specialty shop in Gaia Nova.
“Yup,” said Will, “that’s Dierdre all right—the same one that married Uncle Scott. Birth and marriage dates match, though I see the death date’s missing.”
“She gave it to me just before she died,” Jalil said softly.
Will grunted, nodding his head. His fingers danced across the table’s surface, and the pedigree chart returned—this time branching out laterally above his name.
“That makes us second cousins once removed.”
Jalil’s heart leaped in his chest. “Cousins? Are you sure?”
“If what you say is true, then yes.”
Jalil looked up at Will, hands shaking under the table. The noise and bustle of the crowd faded away, as if he were in a tunnel and Will was at the other end. His cousin—his own flesh-and-blood cousin. Distant, perhaps, but still family.
Will raised an eyebrow. “Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just, I’ve come such a long way to find my family. I don’t know what to say.”
Will shrugged. “I guess I should ask if you have any questions.”
Yes, Jalil thought to himself, barely able to contain himself. He had nothing but questions—but where to start?
“Do you know what happened to my mother and father?” he blurted out.
Will’s expression turned serious. “I’m afraid they both passed away over Gaia Nova,” he said. “They were caught in the crossfire from the military uprising against the emperor twelve years ago. I’m sorry.”
Jalil nodded solemnly, but the news came as no surprise. “Do I have any brothers and sisters? Any immediate family still alive?”
“Not really,” said Will. “It looks like you were Scott and Dierdre’s only son. Uncle Scott had several brothers and sisters, but they’re all interstellar merchanters, gone most of the time on some voyage or another. It’s only by random chance that you met me here.”
Chance? Jalil wondered. More like the will of Allah.
“What about my grandparents?” he asked, tapping his foot nervously against the floor.
“Scott’s parents have both passed away. Dierdre’s parents are both alive, I think—no, wait, just her mother.”
Jalil began to feel a sinking feeling in his stomach, much as he had at the Temple of a Thousand Suns. He feared that this part of his quest would end up no different.
“So who’s still at Karduna?”
“Your grandmother, Jan, for sure, but I’d be surprised if the rest of Dierdre’s family is still around. I haven’t seen them among the refugees here, but there are half a dozen other starlane ports they could have fled to.”
“You mean most of them are gone?”
“I’m afraid so.”
So maybe it was a waste to come here.
Jalil took a deep breath. “That’s okay. Thank you.”
His birth family was dead or scattered. His ancestral home lay under the iron yoke of a brutal occupier. Even if he did manage to get through, what awaited him on the other side? A world of clean, white tiles and gray metal floors, probably—as unfamiliar to him as anything under the glass mountains of Babylon.
“Look,” said Will, “I don’t want to sound rude, but if you’ve got an Imperial passport, you should do yourself a favor and get out of here. I know you’ve come a long way to find your family, but things are going to get ugly real soon. Whatever you do, you don’t want to stick around here.”
“You’re saying that my coming here was a waste of time?” Jalil asked, his voice weak.
“I don’t know about that,” said Will. “But I do think you should go back. I mean, what more can you do?”
At those words, Jalil felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his chest. He’s right, he thought to himself. I did everything within my power to seek out my family, and now I have all the answers I need. My debt of honor to them is paid.
I’m free.
“Don’t take it too hard,” said Will, his brow creasing with concern. “I mean, I’m sorry to break it to you, but—”
“No,” said Jalil, smiling. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”
* * * * *
The Bridgette had already docked with the Genevieve by the time Lars and Jalil returned. Against the milky backdrop of stars and nebulae, with the twinkle of traffic c
oming to and from the jump station, the two paired starships brought back memories of Jalil’s childhood. Sights such as this had once been commonplace to him—but those days were over, and the emptiness left by their passing had already been filled. As his mind wandered back to memories of his desert upbringing, he fingered his mother’s pendant and felt a peace so profound it almost brought him to tears.
“Looks like they’re already loading up to go,” said Lars, breaking the silence. “Will you be coming with us?”
“No,” Jalil whispered.
“What was that?”
“No.”
Lars turned and gave him a funny look. “Are you sure? We have plenty of room, and if you can prove your birth it’ll be easy to obtain citizenship.”
“Thank you,” Jalil said, “but…”
Words utterly failed him. How could he convey the significance of what he had learned? His quest was at an end; his duty fulfilled. He could return now to his desert home with a clear conscience and no regrets. How could he adequately express that?
“I think I’d rather stay on the Bridgette,” he said instead.
Lars shrugged. “Suit yourself. But if you ever change your mind, look me up; I can help get you settled.”
“Thanks. I’ll remember that.”
The docking procedure passed in a blur. The groan of the docking clamps, the hiss as the airlock opened, the disorienting climb down the ladder upside down—Jalil was too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice any of it. Only when his booted feet hit the deck did he return to the present.
“So what did you learn?” Nash asked him as he stepped away from the ladder.
“What?”
“Will Farland—what did he tell you?”
“Oh.” Jalil blinked and shook his head. “I learned that he’s my second cousin.”
“And your family?”
While Lars walked around them toward the bridge, Michelle stepped out of the sleeping quarters and leaned up against Nash. He responded by putting his arm around her waist and pulling her close.
“My family?” said Jalil. “They’re… gone, I suppose. Only one grandmother’s still alive, and as for aunts, uncles, and cousins, most of them have fled the system.”
“Oh wow,” said Michelle, her voice subdued. “I’m so sorry.”
Jalil shrugged. “There’s no need to be. They may be my flesh and blood, but I never truly knew them.”
“So your real family’s on Gaia Nova?”
Her comment brought back an image of his dream—of the Najmi camp, surrounded by verdant prosperity, and Mira waiting for him to return. He took a deep breath and swallowed as long-buried emotions flooded back to him. Welcome home—welcome home to your family.
“Yes,” he whispered. “You could say that.”
“Then you should come with us,” said Nash. “That’s where we’re headed.”
Jalil’s heart skipped a beat, but before he could say anything, Lars walked over to them.
“I wouldn’t spend much time there,” Lars said, his voice grave. “News reports show that the Hameji are on the move—a sizable fleet just slipped past the Gaian blockade. Nine to ten says they attack Gaia Nova in less than a standard month.”
An awful sinking feeling grabbed hold of Jalil’s gut. He remembered the slagging of Kardunash IV and knew intuitively that Lars was right.
“Are you sure?” Nash asked. “The Gaian Imperial Navy is pulling their fleets back in from all corners of the Empire. Do you think the Hameji can beat them?”
“They haven’t been defeated yet.”
Save me, Mira’s words came rushing to Jalil’s mind. Her desperate pleading from his dream cut him to the core.
“We have to go back,” he said, clenching his fists in determination.
Everyone in the corridor stopped and turned to look at him. “What do you mean?” Nash asked.
“My family—my real family—they’re still out in the Gaian Desert. If the Hameji slag that world like they did K-4…”
His voice trailed off as his voice caught in his throat. The others said nothing.
“Please,” he continued, “I can’t save them without your help. I don’t know how I could ever repay you, but if we do nothing, my family is going to die!”
Nash looked down at Michelle, who nodded. He turned back to Jalil.
“Sure, we can help you. It shouldn’t be too hard. ‘Chelle can take you down on the shuttle while I take care of my own business from orbit.”
“Besides,” said Michelle with a small smile, “you’re one of us now.”
Jalil felt so giddy with excitement he was almost ready to fly to Gaia Nova on his own.
“Thank you,” he said. “A thousand times, thank you.”
Nash shrugged. “Don’t mention it. It’s the least we could do.”
“It’s also the most you could do.”
They all laughed at that. Lars slapped Jalil on the back. “Well, I suppose that settles things. It’s been good knowing you, friend; I wish you the best of luck.”
“God-willing,” Jalil muttered as he took Lars’s offered hand and shook it. Even so, he could think of nothing other than Mira and the desperation written on her face in his dream.
Save me.
Part VI
Chapter 19
As Mira finished packing the last of her meager belongings, Rina peeked in through the shrouded doorway. Her eyes widened, and she hesitated only a moment before coming inside.
“Are you going to leave now?” she asked.
“I’m afraid so.”
“But—but where are you going?”
Mira smiled to hide—or perhaps deny—her growing anxiety. “Far away,” she said, putting a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Do you remember the temple?”
Rina nodded wordlessly.
“There’s a giant glass mountain next to it, where the land is covered in water. Aunt Nawal lives there, on a mountain surrounded by the sea. That’s where I’m going.”
“But when will you come back?”
A lump rose in Mira’s throat. Rina’s young eyes pleaded with her to stay, but after all that had happened, she knew that it would be impossible.
“I’m not coming back, Rina,” she whispered. “I can’t.”
Rina’s face scrunched up as if she would burst out crying at any moment. Instead, she buried her head in Mira’s shoulder. Mira wrapped her arms around her and held her close, consoling her without words.
“I’m going to miss you,” Rina said, her voice thick with unshed tears.
“Me, too.”
After a long while, Rina let go and stood back. “Majd says you did something evil. She says you’re leaving because Mother and Father are ashamed of you.”
Mira rose to her feet, trying in vain to quell the bitterness in her heart. She hefted her bags and looked Rina in the eye.
“You’re going to hear a lot of bad things about me when I’m gone. None of them are true.”
Rina nodded. “I know. I don’t believe them.”
They looked at each other for a moment before she clamped onto Mira’s knees. “Please don’t go,” she cried. “I don’t want you to go—please don’t!”
Mira reached down and ran her fingers through Rina’s hair. “This isn’t goodbye forever,” she said softly. “When you make the pilgrimage, come visit me. I’ll be there.”
“I will—I will!”
“Mira!” came Shira’s harsh voice from around the corner. “Get a move on—we don’t have all day!”
“Coming, Mother.”
“I’m not your mother anymore, you worthless bitch!”
Mira sighed. Shira’s insults no longer stung, but they did fill her heart with an awful hollowness. She gently ushered Rina aside and stepped out into the corridor.
The predawn sky glowed with the promise of day. Outside, the merchants loaded the last of the supplies onto their hovercraft and checked the vehicles’ gun turrets in the chill morning air. Shira waited next t
o the door with Sathi, her arms folded. No one else had come to see Mira off, though she had no doubt they were watching her through the peephole.
Her father nodded and gave her a sad smile, while her mother stared ahead impassively. Mira almost stared at the ground as she walked past them, but decided instead to lift her gaze and meet their eyes, unflinching. Rina might be watching, after all, and she wanted her sister to know that she wasn’t ashamed.
“Is the convoy loaded?” she asked, her voice soft. Her father nodded slowly. Shira said nothing.
Mira turned and looked over the camp that had been her home for so long. Strange to think how it had once been her entire world; after all she had seen and been through, it seemed little more than a ramshackle settlement on the edge of nowhere.
Perhaps it was for the best that she was leaving. She’d already arranged (in secret, of course) for the convoy to take her to New Amman. Even if news of her exile had spread that far, her cousin Sarah was a city dweller and was far removed from the tribal politics of the deep desert. Mira could already imagine the cool evening breeze blowing in off the cliff as the yellow lights inside of Aliet Dome gave the glass mountain its soft, starlike glow. And even if Sarah didn’t take her in, Mira would find a way. That much was clear to her now—whatever happened, she would find a way.
We all live in the world of our own choosing.
As she crossed the dusty compound, a movement out by the horizon caught her eye. It seemed almost like one of the birds from Etilan Dome—but no, that was impossible; there were no birds in the desert. Still, she turned her head to get a better look.
What she saw made her stop cold in her steps.
A tiny black dot circled around the nearest mesa and approached the camp with a speed hundreds of times that of any caravaneer. As it drew closer, the men of the merchant convoy scattered and ran for their guns, yelling in New Gaian as they prepared for an attack. Sathi turned and sprinted toward the front entryway, shouting orders.
Mira barely noticed any of that, however. She stood transfixed as the shuttle approached, heart pounding in her chest for reasons she couldn’t understand. It was close enough for her to make out the wings now, much like the plane that had taken her from Terra 2 Dome to the New Amman spaceport. As it came within a hundred yards, the jets on the bottom of the craft angled to slow it down, the blast of hot exhaust making the air shimmer and ripple. The merchants swung their gun turrets toward the shuttle, but held off firing as it slowly touched down not twenty feet from where Mira stood.
