Desert Stars (30 page)

Jalil frowned. “What do you
mean?”

“
It’s a space
station.”

“
A space
station?”

“
Yeah,” said Lars. “It
used to be a deep space mining facility, but we converted it into a
comfortable little outpost. The max population capacity is only
twenty thousand, but most of us in the younger generation are
joining up with the various merchanter families as crew so
overcrowding isn’t much of a problem.”

“
What he means,” said
Michelle, “is that the Colony is a space station.”

Jalil blinked. “So it’s like a dome,
then?”

“
Kind of,” said Lars,
“except ten thousand times smaller. The Colony was originally a
mining outpost for an interstellar corporation. All that changed,
though, when we won our independence.”

“
Independence?” said
Jalil. “What do you mean?”

Lars pushed his half-empty bowl aside
and leaned forward, looking Jalil in the eye. “Almost a hundred
years ago, the Karduna system was a part of the New Gaian Empire.
Under their rule, the corporations sucked us dry. They exploited
our labor and natural resources, then sold us the finished goods at
inflated prices.”

“
Thanks for the history
lesson, mister flunked-all-his-classes,” said Michelle, rolling her
eyes.

“
I didn’t flunk history,”
Lars snapped at her. “Anyhow, when Karduna seceded from the empire,
we threw off our corporate overlords and established a democracy.
Things were tough for a while, but together with the Confederation
of Kardunasian States, we won our independence.”

“
I see,” said Jalil. “Is
that how my parents died?”

“
No, no, no,” said Lars.
“All that happened generations ago. Your parents got tangled up in
some Imperial mess that had nothing to do with us. They were just
in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Right,
Jalil thought to himself, gritting his teeth.
The wrong place at the wrong time.

“
So what about the Colony?
Can you describe it to me?”

Lars smiled, and his eyes lit up with
a passion that reminded Jalil, strangely enough, of Master
Rumiya.

“
The Colony is the most
perfect democracy in all of settled space,” he said, radiating
obvious pride. “It’s nothing less than the last bastion of hope for
the free stars.”

“
Oh, come on,” said
Michelle. “The Gaians aren’t that bad.”

“
Not that bad?” said Lars.
“What about that crackdown in the Tajjur system a few years
back?”

“
The Tajjis were
terrorists.”

“
Some would call them
freedom fighters.”

Michelle let out an exasperated
breath. “Whatever.”

“
Anyways,” said Lars,
turning back to Jalil, “at the Colony, the government is run
directly by the people. Any citizen can propose a bill or an
amendment, and provided it has enough support, it goes on to the
General Assembly. Voting is conducted on a peer-to-peer network of
personal devices, so any citizen within a couple light-hours can
participate in the civic process.”

“
If they want to,” said
Michelle, stirring her food absent-mindedly. “Some of us think it’s
just an enormous headache.”

“
A headache?” Lars said,
turning on her. “Liberty doesn’t come without responsibilities,
‘Chelle. The obligation to vote is a small price to pay in exchange
for personal freedom.”

“
Now you sound just like
Dad,” she muttered under her breath.

“
One of these days,” Lars
told her, “you’re going to see how fragile our freedoms really are.
When that day comes, I hope you have the good sense not to take
them for granted.”

Jalil looked awkwardly from one
sibling to the other. Lars’s face was red, his hands clenched into
fists, and his eyes shone with a fervor that was almost
religious.

At that moment, someone climbed down
the ladder and dropped to the floor. It was Nash.

“
Your father’s going to
need you in a minute,” he said, looking at Lars. “He’s about to
make the final jump calibrations.”

“
Fine,” said Lars. He rose
from his seat and slapped Jalil on the back. “We’ll talk more
later, ‘kay?” After shooting Michelle a dirty look, he turned and
climbed up the ladder.

“
What was that all about?”
Nash asked, taking a seat next to Michelle.

“
Oh, nothing,” said
Michelle, looking away. “It’s just Lars, getting into another of
his fits.”

Did I say
something?
Jalil wondered to himself. The
fight had flared up so quickly, he hardly knew what had
happened.

“
That’s okay,” said Nash.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine once he calms down.”

He reached behind Michelle and started
to massage her back. As he did, Michelle leaned into him, the
tension evaporating from her body. Jalil tensed; for some reason,
the gesture reminded him of Mira. A vague longing rose like a lump
in his throat, but he forced it out of his mind by reaching down
and rubbing the pendant underneath his shirt.

I’m not abandoning
her,
he told himself.
I’m going home.
Try as he might,
however, he couldn’t quite believe it.

* * * * *

Mira stood still as Surayya and Amina
dressed her in flowing black robes, ornately embroidered with red
and purple cross stitching. Gold-plated copper coins dangled from
the hem and from the silky red headscarf she wore. Though the
fabric covered her hair, it was just thin enough to give a
suggestive hint of what lay beneath.

“
Wala!” said Amina,
snapping her fingers with a flick of her hand. “You look
gorgeous!”

Mira smiled; even though she
disagreed, she appreciated the thought.

Rina and Majd joined them as they
walked down the dusty hall to the front room. Through the walls,
Mira heard the low tones of conversation—her father talking with
her uncle Nazar and her cousin Ibrahim. The men laughed suddenly at
an unheard joke, making Majd gasp. Amina started giggling, but
Surayya hurriedly shushed her.

Mira’s heart sped up as
they neared the tent door. The weave of the fabric was wide enough
that she could make out the profiles of the men, reclining on their
luxurious couches. A large female figure walked
in—
Shira
, no doubt—and placed a tray
on the table in front of them.

“
Well, what are you
waiting for?” Amina hissed. “Go on!”

Mira swallowed and parted the door
just a crack. Her mother looked up and smiled broadly. “Mira is
here,” she announced. “Come in, come in!”

The three men stood up as she entered
the room. Her father was dressed in his richest red-and-gold
trimmed robes, while Nazar—a thin, lanky man with a full black
beard and a deeply furrowed brow—wore a brown cloak with a dark
green vest.

Ibrahim, however, stood out from them
both. Tall and muscular, with strong arms and clear olive skin, he
wore a pure white robe with a golden circlet over his red-and-white
checkered headscarf. Brown leather straps stretched across his
broad, well-built chest to the ammunition belt at his waist. A
carefully trimmed beard ringed his mouth and came to a point at his
chin. His cheekbones were high and sharp, and his eyes were a deep,
mesmerizing blue—the color of the endless sky above the sea of
glass.

“
Mira, my cousin,” he
said, bowing graciously. “It is an honor and a pleasure to be in
your presence.”

“
And yours as well,” she
said, returning the greeting as best as she could manage. As she
sat down, Ibrahim spread himself out on his side like a regal
prince.

“
Ibrahim, this is my
daughter Mira
Al-
Jamiyla,” said her father. “I
believe you two have met before?”

“
Yes,” said Ibrahim,
“though it was many years ago. Your daughter
has grown so beautiful, I must confess I hardly recognized
her.”

Mira blushed deep red and glanced
demurely at the floor.

“
Indeed,” said Nazar. “The
last time was when we were camped just twenty miles to the
southeast. We used to visit often, before our well dried up and we
had to move on.”

“
Do you remember?” Ibrahim
asked.

“
Yes,” Mira said softly,
memories from her earliest childhood coming back to her as she met
her cousin’s eyes. “You look—different.”

Sathi and Nazar burst into
uproarious laughter. “Yes,” said her father. “A lot has changed,
certainly.” He glanced up at
Shira
, who nodded. “Why
don’t we leave you two alone to get reacquainted?”

Sathi and Nazar walked out
the front door, while
Shira
set down a platter
of green grapes on the table before leaving them alone
together.

“
Your father is a great
man,” said Ibrahim after the others were gone. “It takes a special
kind of person to lead a camp out here in the deep desert for as
long as he has.”

“
Yes,” said Mira, her
heart racing now that she was alone with Ibrahim. Doubtless her
mother was listening in through the tent walls—not to mention all
of her sisters—but until the meeting was over, none of them would
interfere.

“
I don’t know if you
remember me all that well,” said Ibrahim, “but I remember you. You
used to spend a lot of time playing with your older sisters,
looking for strange rocks while the men dug up the walls around the
compound. I came once with a shard of black obsidian from the hills
near my father’s camp. When I gave it to you, your eyes lit up, and
all your sisters wanted to take turns playing with it.”

“
Yes,” Mira said, “I
remember. Although—I’m sorry, I think I lost the rock.”

Ibrahim laughed—a clear, pleasant
sound. “That’s all right,” he said, “It was just a child’s gift.
But we’re certainly not children anymore.”

Mira blushed again, but didn’t look to
the ground this time. “No,” she said, “we’re not.”

Ibrahim smiled and leaned forward to
pick a few grapes from the platter. He looked nothing like the
young, shy boy who had given her the shiny black rock so many years
ago. Now, he was very much a man. His every movement was confident
and precise, and he exuded an air of strength that reminded her of
Jalil.

“
It’s been a long time,”
she whispered.

“
Yes. Well, things have
certainly changed.” He popped a couple of grapes into his mouth and
chewed quietly. “My brothers have all established themselves, and I
understand it’s my time to do the same. I have a mind to start a
new camp, up in the mountains where the air is clean and free of
sand.”

“
Wouldn’t it be difficult
to find water there?” Mira asked.

“
Not if you know where to
look. I’ve helped my father build three new wells on our borders
with those murderous Sarahiyn. The rain in the Hamir Mountains
flows quickly over the stony ground, but it catches in clefts and
reservoirs hidden from most eyes. Have you ever seen the Hamir
Mountains?”

Mira thought of the sea of glass at
the top of the world, near the towering ivory pillar that was the
Temple of a Thousand Suns. She thought of the islands in Terra 2
Dome, surrounded by the calm blue ocean that stretched from horizon
to horizon.

“
No,” she said. “I
haven’t.”

“
Ah, then you should come
and see them with your own eyes. The air is clean and pure, and the
breeze is cool on your face.”

“
Like the ocean?” Mira
asked, a little absent-mindedly.

“
Ocean?” Ibrahim asked,
frowning. “Where in this desert is there any ocean?”

“
Oh, I’m sorry,” said
Mira. “I was thinking of—of a place under the domes.”

“
In Babylon, eh?” Ibrahim
asked, grinning mischievously. “I’d forgotten you’d been
there.”

Something about his grin made her a
little uneasy. “Yes,” she said. “Have you?”

“
Only once or twice, and
never any further than Aliet Dome. At least, that’s what I tell my
parents.” He gave her a meaningful wink.

Mira was confused until she remembered
the cantina girls, bearing their bodies for all to see. She
remembered how Jalil had become so unbalanced by it all, and
wondered how Ibrahim would have reacted. Probably very
differently.

“
And how did you enjoy
your stay in Babylon?” he asked.

“
I—” Mira tried to think
of something to say, but words failed her. Ever since returning
home, she hadn’t had a chance to clear her thoughts. Strange how
throughout her travels, all she could think of was the desert—now
that she had returned, even her own home felt alien to
her.

“
I don’t know,” she said,
biting her lip and looking down.

To her surprise, he laughed—not in a
demeaning way, but in a way that told her he understood
perfectly.

“
Nothing is the same
anymore, is it?” he asked. “Everything feels empty somehow, as if
something or someone important is missing. Your sisters try to
help, but they just don’t understand you—am I right?”