Desert Stars

by Joe Vasicek

  As the dust settled and the roar of the jets slowly died down, the sound of shouting came from behind her. She hardly noticed, however; the still-humming shuttle seemed so alien and out of place, here on the edge of nowhere.

  “Mira! Mira, what are you doing?” a voice called out from the tents. It was her father.

  She turned and saw that the whole camp had been raised. Surayya and Amina, Tiera and Zayne, Shira and the younger girls—even old Zeid came hobbling out to get a better look. They all had the same incredulous expressions on their faces—an expression that Mira herself no doubt shared.

  She turned and squinted against the sun, lifting her hand to block out the blinding light of the dawning sun. A single figure stepped out from around the back of the shuttle, brilliant rays of light shining from behind him. Mira frowned, but as the figure drew closer, her heart skipped a beat and her legs went weak. Even though she couldn’t make out his face, from the way he walked, she knew him immediately.

  It was Jalil.

  * * * * *

  “Mira?”

  Jalil’s breath caught in his throat, and his heart leaped in his chest. Even in her headscarf, with her hand partially obscuring her face for the sunlight, he knew that it was her.

  He started forward toward her, but Sathi intercepted him, arms wide with a smile quickly spreading across his face.

  “Jalil, my son! My son from the stars! Habibi!”

  Within moments, Jalil found himself locked in a warm embrace. He stuttered and fumbled his greetings, but the rest of the family soon swarmed him, driving him even further away from Mira.

  “Jalil? Is that you?”

  “How did you—”

  “My baby!”

  Zayne pushed her way through the others and threw her arms around him, tears streaming down her cheeks. Jalil almost cried himself, the emotion on her face was so palpable.

  Away from the crowd, Sathi and Shira conferred quietly with each other. His father nodded to Mira, who picked up her bags and headed back for the camp—but not before stealing a hurried glance at him. Their eyes met, and for all the bustle and activity around him, nothing else mattered.

  But why was she carrying bags out here? He looked over his shoulder at the merchant convoy, now rumbling off. These weren’t people they knew—it just didn’t make sense.

  “And who’s this?”

  His mother’s question brought him back to the more immediate present. Michelle had disembarked from the shuttle, and now stood a short distance away from the others, arms folded.

  “This?” said Jalil. “Oh—this is Michelle.”

  “And who is she?”

  “My blood sister,” he lied, knowing full well the ramifications of bringing home a girl who wasn’t family. “Michelle,” he said in New Gaian, “this is Zayne, my mother, and Sathi, my father.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Michelle said, smiling as she extended her hand. Both Sathi and Zayne stared at it uncomprehending.

  “Er, we don’t shake hands in the desert.”

  “Oh.” Michelle blushed and gave a short bow.

  “Where is her headscarf?” Surayya asked aloud. “And why is she dressed in such awfully dirty clothes?”

  “And this,” Jalil continued, his cheeks turning red, “this is the rest of my family: Surayya, Amina, and Tiera my sisters; Shira, my half-mother; and the rest of my sisters, Majd, Alia, and Rina.”

  For some unknown reason, Shira narrowed her eyes and glared at him. He knew that expression all too well; it was the one she took when she was on the warpath. Something serious had happened here—something completely over his head. Rather than making it into an issue, though, he chose to ignore it for the time being.

  “Michelle, is it?” Tiera asked, shocking Jalil and everyone else by asking the question in New Gaian.

  Michelle smiled. “Yes. You’re Tiera, right?”

  “I am. It’s good to meet you.”

  Jalil received his second shock as they shook hands. “How did you learn to speak New Gaian?” he asked his sister.

  “Traders,” she told him, reverting back to the tribal dialect. “And the shortwave. What, you think I’ve been idle these last few months?” She turned to Michelle and smiled. “I am sorry,” she said, stuttering a little. “My Gaian is not so good.”

  “No problem—I’d be happy to help you learn.”

  “Thank you.” She glanced longingly at the shuttle. “Could you perhaps show me—”

  “Of course,” said Michelle, offering Tiera her arm. She glanced at Jalil. “Do you think it would be all right?”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  Zayne frowned in concern as they walked off. “Where is that girl taking my daughter?”

  “Don’t worry,” Jalil told her. “She’s just taking Tiera to see the ship. They’ll be back before—”

  “Well, what are we standing around out here for?” Sathi bellowed. “Come inside, come inside!”

  * * * * *

  A short while later, Jalil found himself at the seat of honor in the camp’s dining hall, surrounded by a flurry of activity that showed no sign of settling down. Sathi sat to his right, trying to entertain him with what had happened in the camp while he’d been gone. His sisters set the groundcloth while others brought in the hastily prepared breakfast—beans and flatbread, with an assortment of vegetables and sweetened crackers. Every time the door flap parted, he turned, half expecting to see Mira, but she never entered.

  Michelle came in and sat by his left, smiling at him.

  “Your sister is quite a character,” she said as Tiera took a seat on her other side. “No offense, but I think she’d make a much better mechanic than you.”

  “None taken,” Jalil said absent-mindedly, turning as Zayne and Shira took their seats on the other side of his father. Zayne sat closest to Jalil, while Shira sat the furthest away; as their eyes briefly met, her lips turned upward in what could almost have been a sneer.

  “Well, are we ready to eat?” Sathi said loudly. The statement was more of an order than a question.

  The girls quickly took their places around the groundcloth. The door flap swung open one final time, and Mira slipped in behind them, her headscarf pulled back to reveal her gorgeous hair. Jalil’s heart leaped in his chest, and he longed to rush to her side, but this was not the place. She took her seat on the opposite side of the room, barely glancing his way.

  The breakfast passed with little conversation—except between Tiera and Michelle, who chattered almost incessantly. Since the others couldn’t speak New Gaian, however, they confined their questions to Jalil.

  “So did you find your family?”

  “Yes, praise Allah,” he said.

  “And where are they?”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped short; how could he possibly hope to explain all that he had learned?

  “Unfortunately, most of them have passed away. Michelle—she was one of the few I could find.”

  “May Allah have mercy upon them.”

  An awkward silence fell across the room. Mira broke it by asking the next question.

  “Why did you come back?”

  Every head in the tent turned to face him; even Tiera’s. Jalil finished chewing his food and nodded to Michelle.

  There’s no better time than now.

  “This might be hard for you to hear,” he began, “but I know no better way to say it than this. All of you are in danger. This world is about to be destroyed. If you don’t leave for the stars with me, all of you are going to die.”

  He took in a deep breath and looked around the room, stealing only a brief glance in Mira’s direction. Perhaps he’d waited too long; the remains of the impromptu feast lay sprawled out on the groundcloth before them, and some of the people were starting to drift off into their own conversations. In the back, old Zeid was already snoring.

  Sathi frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “When I was among the stars, I saw a terrible enemy,”
Jalil said, loud enough that all could hear. “Warriors who destroy entire planets. And they will not stop until they have destroyed our world.”

  Again, no one said anything. Silence descended on them all, made worse by all the eyes staring blankly at him.

  “Here,” said Jalil, “let me show you.” He stood up and walked over to the dusty computer terminal in the corner, swiveling the screen so that it faced the room.

  “What are you doing?” Shira asked.

  “I’m about to show you something important.” He turned to Michelle. “Can you help me with this?”

  As they fumbled with the clunky old machine, he became dimly aware of hushed voices behind him. His hands began to tremble.

  “Are you telling us we need to move the camp?” Zayne asked from her seat next to Sathi.

  “Yes,” said Jalil over his shoulder. “And not only from this campsite. We’ll need to leave this world. That’s why I came back: to save you.”

  “So you’re going to leave us again?” Shira asked, folding her arms.

  “No, I want to stay with you, but we can’t stay here in the desert. We have to leave for the stars. Otherwise, all of us are going to die.”

  The hushed whispers only grew in intensity. Jalil’s cheeks flushed, and he returned to the machine with renewed vigor.

  “Damn piece of junk,” Michelle cursed, slamming her fist on the top of the display. The screen flipped on, displaying a cloud-speckled world of wide brown land and sparkling blue seas. Jalil nodded in satisfaction and turned to face the room.

  “Look here,” he said, pointing to the screen. “This is an image of a planet called Tajjur V, before these terrible warriors—the Hameji—got there. If you’ll watch—”

  “Tajjur five?” Surayya asked. “What is that?”

  “It’s a world,” said Jalil. “A world, not unlike our own. As you can—”

  “Where are the deserts?”

  “They’re down there, but you can’t see them from this angle. They’re on the other—”

  “That’s supposed to be a world?” Amina asked. “It sure doesn’t look like one.”

  “Nonsense,” said Zayne. “It looks very beautiful, Jalil.”

  Jalil sighed. “Just watch.”

  A series of flashes blinked above the planet’s curved horizon. The people in the back of the room squinted and leaned forward, and Jalil realized with dismay that the screen was too small for them to see the footage clearly.

  “What’s that?” Tiera asked, pointing to a bright blue glow in the black sky. It flared, and seconds later a tiny plume of muddy brown rose up through the planet’s speckled white cloud cover.

  “It’s called a ‘mass accelerator,’” said Jalil. “It just threw a rock the size of a mountain at the planet’s surface. Everyone caught beneath that plume of debris and smoke is now dead.”

  Sathi frowned, but didn’t seem concerned. On the screen, hundreds of gray-brown plumes rose above the clouds, forming teardrop shapes above the blue oceans. In a matter of minutes, the once verdant planet was completely shrouded in gray.

  “There,” said Jalil, switching it off. “That’s what they did to Tajjur V, and that’s what they’re going to do to us once they get there.”

  “You say that’s what our world looks like from space?” Surayya asked. “It looks… small.”

  “Yes, but it’s very beautiful,” said Zayne, making it clear that she supported her son.

  “Can’t you see?” Jalil shouted. “That entire world was destroyed! Everything, everyone—dead! They did it to Tajjur V, they did it to Kardunash IV, and in less than a month, they’ll do it here, too!”

  “So what do you suggest we do?” Tiera asked.

  “We need to get out of here. That’s why I came back—to take you away from the danger. The Hameji are coming; if we—”

  “Oh, so that’s why you came back,” said Amina, nodding sarcastically.

  Jalil’s cheeks reddened. “Have I ever lied to any of you?”

  Silence fell on the camp. Jalil clenched his fists in frustration, wanting nothing more than to grab each one of them and shake them.

  “I’m telling you,” he continued, “if you stay here, you will all die. We need to—”

  “What you ask is a hard thing, my son,” said his father. “Where would we go? You speak of leaving as if it were as easy as breaking camp and setting it up again somewhere in the sky. How can we do that when our home is here, in the desert?”

  “We could find a way. Michelle has friends, and there are other worlds—”

  “Yes, but our home is here. You would have us abandon it because of a picture on a computer screen?”

  Jalil bit his lip and stole a glance at Mira. Her face was devoid of disbelief, but it was clear that she understood him no better than any of the others.

  “We must leave, Father. If we stay, we will die,” he said softly. “All of us. No exception.”

  “Why are you trying to frighten us?” Shira asked, her voice noticeably bitter.

  “I’m not trying to frighten you,” Jalil pleaded. “Can’t you see? I came back to warn you—to save you.”

  “We don’t need you to save us,” she hissed. “You’re an unwelcome guest in this camp.”

  What are you talking about? Before he could ask, Sathi turned and rebuked her.

  “How could you be so rude, woman? Jalil is our son, and he’s come back to take our daughter Mira’s hand in marriage. Haven’t you, my boy?”

  Sweat began to form on Jalil’s forehead, but an idea quickly took shape in his mind.

  “If I marry Mira and assume leadership of the camp, will you listen to me?”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” said Sathi, waving his hand as if the question was resolved before Jalil had even asked it. “Whatever you wish. You’re my son.”

  Jalil glanced across the room at Mira; to his surprise, her face had fallen. She rose to her feet and excused herself, hurrying out the door before their eyes could meet.

  Jalil frowned. What the hell is going on around here?

  * * * * *

  “Why must you be upset over this?” said Sathi. “Jalil is back—isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “By Allah,” said Mira’s mother, “aren’t you the least bit suspicious of his timing? And by all the strange demands that he’s made? Wala! To think it would come to such foolishness!”

  Mira sat quietly against the wall of her father’s study while her parents argued back and forth. Just this morning, she’d expected to find herself in a caravaneer crossing the desert. The fact that she was still here, still within the sound of her mother’s voice, put her nerves on edge and filled her with unease. It was almost as if fate had passed her by, leaving her in limbo.

  “You’re chasing ghosts, woman,” her father said, his voice carrying just enough of an edge to keep Shira from shouting. “We sent Mira on the pilgrimage with Jalil to persuade him to return and marry her. She returned without him, but now he has come back, and has offered to marry her. What more could we possibly ask?”

  “It’s not that simple anymore,” Shira said, her voice dangerously soft. “If he had returned with her at first, we could have married them off quietly. Now, there’s the family honor to consider.”

  What honor? Mira thought bitterly to herself.

  “But this absolves the family honor,” her father said, spreading his hands palm up in front of him. “How can it not? And even you must admit, our daughter accomplished exactly what we set her out to do.”

  Shira’s eyes narrowed, and she shot a poisonous glance at Mira. She is not my daughter, the expression on her face seemed to say.

  “It would be one thing if he returned solely to marry the girl, but what is all this nonsense about the end of the world? If I were you—”

  “But you are not me, woman,” Sathi said forcibly.

  “Forgive my impudence,” Shira said quickly. “Nonetheless, I think we should refuse to marry them unless we receive certain assur
ances of Jalil’s good will.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as insisting that this girl he’s brought with him depart, and take her demonic sky-caravaneer with her.”

  Shira’s last statement was enough to make even Mira sit up and voice her indignation.

  “How could you even suggest such a thing?” she said, her arms quivering with anger as much as nervous energy. “That girl is his own sister! To throw her out so rudely—”

  “Silence!”

  “No. Mira’s right,” said her father. “To cast out Jalil’s blood sister on the day of his wedding—I cannot think of a more shameful way to violate our hospitality.”

  “Yes, but if we don’t, what is there to keep Jalil and Mira from simply running away on us?”

  Weren’t you the one who tried to throw me out?

  “Besides, how do we know that this girl is Jalil’s sister?” Shira continued. “How do we know that he isn’t lying? He shamed us once by abandoning our daughter; what’s to say that he isn’t simply playing two women at once?”

  At those words, something inside of Mira snapped.

  “No,” she said, clenching her fists as she rose to her feet. “Jalil isn’t that kind of man. You don’t understand—you’ve never understood!”

  Her mother’s face turned red with exasperation. Before they fell into a shouting match, however, Sathi cut them both short by stepping between them.

  “Enough!” he bellowed. “Shira, you’ve made a good point; we’ll continue this conversation in private. Mira?”

  “Yes?” she said, her whole body trembling.

  “Mira, dear, I think we owe you an apology for the way we’ve treated you. Please, forgive us.”