Jesse rubbed his forehead with his fingers. Darkness was beginning to creep in and he still had to finish a foot and a half tall pile of research. It would have been easy to finish these texts. He had done more work in less time when he was doing papers for his courses in Harvard. He was taking so long because he kept getting distracted by the situation they were in.
So far, Maria had not shown any abnormal color or an unbelievably huge two months belly. For that Jesse was at least thankful. He did not mind so much people commenting on Maria's pregnancy. Nobody here knew anyway that she was just married last October, or that she was only a couple months along. And Maria seemed radiant when she went about. Jesse noted that she seemed so proud and might even prefer that she showed like she was already nine months pregnant. Maria could do nothing but talk and plan and hope for her child. What he truly was worried about was not what was here, but what was to come. Nobody had any idea what would happen next, about Maria, about the child… About Liz. Sooner or later, if he could, Max would arrive and take her from him. And what of Isabel? Was her absence the only reason Jesse seemed drawn to--
"Hey, what are you doing reading in the dark?" She flipped on the lamp and looked down at Jesse. "Have you had dinner yet?"
Speak of the… "Liz," he breathed out. She shifted uncomfortably in front of him, he could see. She was as much rattled by the growing attraction between them as he was. "I had some coffee before I left the office."
She smiled. "Coffee's no good. I worked in a diner, Jesse. You're drowning something," she concluded. "What is it?"
"I don't think you really want to know," he answered quietly.
Her lips parted. Now she realized what this was all about. "Have you seen Maria?" she inquired. "I haven't seen her all day, and I want to know how she is."
Liz had been working at the restaurant several blocks away to help out with the bills. Jesse had insisted that he could sufficiently provide everything they needed. But the two women were too stubborn and chose to bus tables. After all, they had "years of waitressing excellence."
"She's fine. All bubbly and all that Maria laughter."
Liz nodded. "That's great. I'm glad she's not… you know… pining."
"Like you?"
She met him stare for stare, not answering at first. And then she shook her head and turned away. "No. I'll go prepare us something to eat."
Liz took some food out of the refrigerator and turned the faucet on. She looked up at the ceiling and knew that her best friend was there, in her room, and that she wasn't really happy, just like she wanted everyone to believe.
~~
Maria turned off the television and walked to the window, leaning out and watching the neighbors. She had taken to spying on the house across the street for the past weeks, waiting for the family to gather around the living room.
At eight sharp they came in. Two kids, a girl and a boy, ran in carrying stockings and candy. After them came the mother, her bulging belly evident under the yellow maternity dress she wore. The children called someone, and the daddy came in and lifted the kids up so they could hang their stockings above the fireplace.
Maria grinned. The father's face was strained due to the weight of his kids. He brushed a kiss on their foreheads and set them down, no, dropped them, on the couch and the kids mutely squealed and laughed, red with laughter and lack of air.
Her mind warped them into people she wanted, needed to see. The little boy's hair spiked up, and he assumed that rebel, devil-may-care attitude. The girl's short red hair grew into a long mane of curly tresses. Maria saw her own head on the body of the pregnant woman, and magically, the jolly dad morphed into Michael.
She watched her family for the longest time as they frolicked happily and hung ornaments on the tree. And then the father stretched from the couch and raised his daughter up to place the star on top of the tree. The son clapped merrily, and the mom kissed the dad. When they turned to look at the tree together, they looked their normal selves, and Maria was filled with shame at what she conjured in her head. She was stealing happy moments from other people to satisfy herself.
Maria's eyes were drawn to the sky, but she couldn't see any star. There were no stars in New York. Bright lights from the towering buildings drowned the sky, and the tiny sparkling lights were no contest to the electric-powered brightness of the land.
She didn't see a thing in the heavens, but she closed her eyes and imagined the glow of the pearls from all those Christmases ago, when her relationship seemed so dark. "Happy Christmas, Michael," she whispered. "Keep safe."
~~
Michael fell forward in the sticky orange mass that was the muddy soil of the planet. He wiped off the blood trickling down his lip. He had been on a hot flaming blaze, killing all the enemies that came his way. He never missed a stroke. Not once. Not until one of the stairs high above him flashed a blinding light, and his ears rang shrilly with the soft whisper of a voice. "Keep safe," she said. He knew that it was Maria. No star could shine so brightly that it would be seen in a sky already lit by sun.
He turned to see someone stagger forward with an axe high above his head, going for him. Michael kicked with both legs, and rolled to his side. From where he was lying, the axe stuck in proud announcement that it missed him by an inch.
Michael took the axe in his hands and just as swiftly buried it in the chest of his attacker. When the man fell down, Michael looked up at the sky and saw the winking star again. He could not let himself be paralyzed by the pain again. Instead, he numbed his heart and trudged on, maiming, hurting, killing, until he was so tired he could barely lift his head. And still he fought. He fought on to finish whatever hell this planet was suffering, and he fought on to pay back whatever fate it was that caused him to be sent to a planet so far away to find his home, only to be forced away from it again.
All around him, the land was burning, razed as it had never been razed before this day. After this war, there was a lot to be done. Fields would be replanted, towers rebuilt. But he had no doubt that whatever difficulty there was ahead, they would overcome it. As long as the violence was finished once and for all.
The enemy was beginning to retreat. Michael saw his charger, a solar powered air glider, a few feet away. He grabbed the belt and hopped on to it. "Don't let them hide!" he yelled. "Finish this now and let this be done!"
His soldiers all jumped onto their respective air gliders and at one same instant, they zoomed through the air after Kivar's men.
Michael wielded the sharp stainless hook in front of him and turned to give his instructions. "Capture as many as you can without killing. We'll give them a chance to swear loyalty to the king. But leave Kivar to me!"
The men nodded and ripped the atmosphere in different directions as they dropped their artificial netting down at the fleeing groups.
On the other hand, Michael pursued Kivar's glider with his own. "Get on with it!" the former general yelled. "Kill me. Or are you afraid to make me bleed without your commander's permission?"
"I'm going to drag your ass back to the palace alive, Kivar. I'm not selfish. I won't reserve the pleasure of seeing you die only to me."
Kivar's glider made a sudden turn and faced Michael's. At first, Michael was afraid that Kivar planned to charge him, and he placed his foot on eject, prepared to push. But Kivar turned off his engine. "Look how easily the army stands behind you. Look how easily you raised the soldiers for a war."
"They've been impatient for a chance to get you after everything you've done to them," Michael answered back. "You've made them living in the worst circumstances because of a stupid misunderstanding between you and the king."
"You know he will never be the king that Antar deserves," Kivar spat out. "You would make a better leader. I would make a better leader. Hell, Isabel can make a better leader than the prissy prince!"
"Max is king now."
"And all I'm saying is that he should not be."
"He holds all the rights to it. You should have given him the chance, Kivar. Now it's too late for you."
"You can't always be loyal, Michael. You can't be blind to all his faults. You had to be the one to raise the army. Why not him, when he's the king?" Kivar emphasized the word king as if to scorn it.
"Come with me peacefully, and I'm sure we will reduce your sentence."
"Even the princess… the queen," he corrected himself, "realized that it would be fruitless to wait for him to take action. She had to lie to him to get you all home. A lot of good that did her."
"Where is Tess, Kivar?" Michael demanded. "Where is she?"
Kivar refused to answer. He started the engine of his glider again. Michael knew he could not let him get away. The sun was almost down, and his own glider would not function for long with its stored energy, if he were to do a high speed chase. Michael primed himself for action.
And he jumped onto Kivar's glider. "Get off!" Kivar yelled.
Michael took his neck in his strong fists and squeezed. "Where is Tess?" he demanded.
"Go back to earth!"
"Where. Is. Tess?"
Kivar's face mottled purple with the lack of oxygen and blood. Michael knew he had to let up soon, because he could not kill him like this. Kivar needed to be presented to Max and the people. "Dome. Prison. Under the cliff," Kivar gasped out.
"Which cliff?"
"The cliff. You know it."
And Michael sucked in his breath. The cliff from his dreams, of course. The same cliff where Max had first seen Tess. The cliff where he sat after the war, and Isabel brought him a child in his dreams. Slowly, the dreams were unfolding. "You left her with the child?"
"The king's son is dead. Stupid bitch took too long. It was too late when she got here. The child was poisoned already."
Michael shook his head. "His son dreamwalked the king."
"Tess," Kivar rasped, doubled over and trying to breathe.
Resigned, Michael stood up. He had first hoped that maybe the child Isabel held to him was Max's. Now he was back to that fear. Isabel would present him with their son. He hauled up the former general, an old friend of his, and dragged him to the glider with him, securing his feet and wrists. "Come." He was taking him home for execution, he knew.
The star overhead, that winked at him so many times over the afternoon and the night, flickered one last time and dimmed.
