Author's Preface
The wind never stopped out here. It came at the dunes sideways, dragging sheets of sand low across the ground, as natural as the rising sun and as constant as breathing. Yahya had grown up inside that wind. He barely noticed it now except as something to angle his shoulders against, a habit as old as walking.
Varak folded down onto the sand with a low grunt, six legs tucking under him in sequence, and the palanquin swayed hard on his back before settling. Halima gripped the rail with both hands, not daring to look down.
"I'm not jumping," she said.
"I know."
"I could jump. The local women jump from twice this height."
"I know that too."
Yahya was already there. He caught her in his arms and gently helped her down before she finished arguing, the way he always did, as if her protest were simply part of the ritual. She weighed more than she used to, round and warm and solid against him, and he held on a beat longer than needed, breathing in at the curve of her neck. Whatever scented oils or incense the settlement women wore, it was nothing next to this — sun-warmed skin, the dust of the ride, something underneath that was only her.
Halima's arms went around his neck out of habit, and she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, my seyyid. You're my hero."
"You say that every time I put you down. As if I've done something difficult."
"You have. You have to let go of me. That's the hard part." She smiled against his jaw, and Yahya set her feet on the sand with visible reluctance, his hands lingering at her waist.
The ground here was soft and treacherous, and his boots sank to the ankle with every stride as they walked toward the wreck. Faris stood a little way off with his back turned, arms folded, studying the horizon. He always gave them this — a few quiet seconds of personal intimacy before he stepped back into their presence.
When they got closer, Faris turned, genuine worry flashing in his eyes for his sister-in-law making such a journey:
"Sister, you're practically ready to give birth!" Faris shook his head, throwing his hands up. "Why in God's name did you travel all this way in this heat?"
"Because you," Halima said, "have no idea what's going on in that woman's head right now. And I do."
Faris sighed, his expression turning more serious. "I don't even know her name."
"What is her name?"
He opened his mouth, and nothing came out. For a large and dangerous man, he looked faintly lost. "I don't know it."
Halima shook her head with a faint smile. But then Yahya looked at his wife, a long-pondered question gleaming in his eyes:
"Why didn't you ever ask me about that, Halima? On our very first day... How did I know your name before you even told me? Didn't that seem strange to you?"
Faris instantly shifted a surprised look from his brother to Halima. "Wait, you knew her name before you even met?"
"I felt it," Yahya answered his brother with a warm smile. "Not heard. Felt it in my soul. Like something inside me already knew and only needed the chance to say it. It's a special bond Halima and I share, impossible to explain."
Faris made a sound halfway between a laugh and a groan, shaking his head at his brother's hopeless romance:
"Of course you can't explain it! You've been telling me about this 'special bond' for years, and every time I ask for details you go misty and useless."
"You'll understand when it happens to you," Yahya chuckled.
"I understand that you're insufferable," Faris laughed back.
After sharing a laugh with them, Halima turned back to Yahya, her voice dropping to a quieter, more serious tone:
"I didn't ask back then because I was scared. I had just fallen out of the sky onto a strange planet, knew nothing, and found myself next to a man built like a mountain. I didn't have the nerve to question you. I needed to keep my head down and gather information rather than cause trouble. So I only watched and listened."
Neither brother said anything for a moment. Faris looked down at the sand between his boots, his jaw tightening as memories resurfaced.
"I remember how I was with you," he said quietly. "That first week. I didn't believe a word out of your mouth. I thought you were a spy or bait." He met her eyes. "Forgive me, sister-in-law. You'd just survived a crash, and I met you with a blade half-drawn."
"You did," Halima agreed softly. Then she smiled, slow and a little wicked. "You know you owe me a very large gift for that. I've been keeping a mental list."
"Anything." Faris put a hand over his heart, relieved to make amends. "Name it and it's yours."
"I'll think of something suitably extravagant."
"I don't doubt it."
They started walking again, and Halima's steps slowed as the ship's shadow fell over them. Her earlier certainty went thin. She'd rehearsed nothing. She had a whole speech prepared, but now that the hatch was thirty feet away, every word had vanished.
What am I even going to say to her?
Latifa had been watching the approach through the cracked viewport, and none of it made sense.
She'd braced for the giant to come back with chains. What she saw instead was an ordinary woman walking across the sand between the two towering figures, wrapped in a light headscarf, carrying a large belly that completely changed how she moved.
Latifa's mind ran through every dark possibility. A prisoner? A hostage?
She didn't let herself finish the thought. Her training took over: assess the threat, protect the civilian, act. The shape of the problem was clear: there was a woman out there who needed rescue.
The hatch groaned as she wrenched it open, and the two men stopped several paces back, as if expecting it.
Halima's face softened with relief upon seeing the door open.
Then Latifa dashed past her, stepping between her and the giants, sidearm raised, both hands locked around the grip.
"What are you doing?!" Halima's voice cracked with surprise.
"Saving you!" Latifa kept her eyes locked on the giants. "Don't be afraid. I've got you."
"Uh — no." Halima raised her hands in a calming gesture. "I don't need saving."
That stopped Latifa in her tracks. "You don't need saving?"
"No! I am completely safe. Please —" Halima’s English was rusty, the consonants coming clumsily after nearly two years of disuse: "Please put the gun down."
Latifa held her ground. "How is that possible? Aren't you their prisoner?"
"Prisoner?" Halima almost laughed. "No. They are not dangerous. It's a long story." She pressed a hand to her chest, searching for words she hadn't needed in nearly two years. "I crashed here too. Escape pod, same like you. He" — she nodded toward Yahya — "he found me. Saved me. They are good people. A different world, but people." She placed a hand over her belly. "I married him. My choice. This is his child. Nobody forced me."
Latifa lowered the weapon slightly, her certainty wavering. She looked at the woman's calm, human face, then at the two men standing motionless in the wind, making no attempt to advance.
"You..." Latifa tightened her grip again. "What? How — I need time to think." She flicked her eyes toward the men. "Tell them to stay back. I'm not ready to be near them."
Halima turned and called back softly: "Stay there. It's all right. Give us space."
Both brothers stayed put, and Faris actually took a step backward, lifting his hands slightly to make himself look smaller.
Latifa let the gun drop to her side. "Come in," she said. "Just you."
Halima climbed through the hatch, the door groaning shut behind her, muting the howling wind.
Inside, the cabin smelled of scorched insulation and recycled air. Metal walls. Emergency lighting. For one moment, Halima felt thrust back into her old life.
Then the feeling passed. Standing here, she felt only a deep, quiet gratitude for how her life had turned out.
Latifa gestured toward a fold-down sofa, and they sat down. Latifa studied her intently:
"All right," she said finally. "Tell me everything. How you ended up here. What happened to you."
Halima looked back at her, two women from the same small blue planet sitting in a wrecked ship on a foreign world.
And then she began.
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