Dying Star Arc
December 2038
The room smells like sweat, and the perfume that the woman beside me always wears. The feel of the crumpled sheets and her warmth are so enveloping, I wish we could stay here for a thousand nights. The pale woman beside me, runs her hand up and down my chest, her fingers stroke me and dance playfully across my torso.
"Do you know what a supernova is?"
"No tell me. What is it?"
"The death of a star. It burns brighter and sharper than it ever has for a time, then returns to nothing."
I turn to face her, the woman beside me, "that sounds quite beautiful."
"Yes, I'm sure it is," Seine replies.
"Have you ever seen one?"
"I don't think any human has ever seen one," she laughs softly.
Seine. Seine Montague is somewhat of a mystery to me. An enigma. There's something that draws me to her. Maybe all western women are like her, but I've never met any of them. That's what makes her mysterious to me. Mysterious and all the more fascinating. However, I think she would say the exact opposite about me if asked. She can see straight through me, she often says. The two of us first met not that long after the Persephone left for the moon. At first, I hated her simply for the status that she had. She was in charge; she was the one that had almost complete control of us. I'm almost ashamed now to admit it, but I didn't like the idea of being led by a woman. Where I grew up, it would be unimaginable for a woman, especially a foreigner like Seine, to lead a group of mostly men, but that's the situation we found ourselves in now.
About a year ago, a man who called himself Kyle Matthews came to us, in the slums of Gaza. He offered us jobs, though he warned us that we wouldn't ever be coming back home. Mr Matthews wanted strong people who could handle the heavy lifting that is to come with assembling the base when we first arrive on Ceres. Because of that, the majority of the Palestinians onboard the Persephone are men – most of them at least ten years younger than me, and most already had jobs in Palestine.
It didn't matter to me that we wouldn't be returning home. My last relative had died five years ago, so I had no reason to stay. And so, I accepted Mr Matthews' offer, and took a shuttle to the moon.
I met Seine just two days before we left the moon. We'd been staying at the Farside base, being instructed on how we would live, and what our jobs would be when we made it to Ceres, and learning English, for a couple of months by that point. When I learnt that she would be in charge at the colony, I am ashamed to admit that I was disgruntled. It just wasn't how things were in Palestine. Women weren't to lead men. And so, we didn't have the best of starts, in fact I would say we disliked each other. From there, however, Seine first earned my respect and then before I realised it, I'd fell in love with her. She is so completely different from any woman I had known at home. She's intelligent, beautiful, witty, and composed.
Lying next to her like this makes me wish that there wasn't anything else we have to do. That the two of us could just stay like this forever. And maybe we can pretend, at least for a time, that we can. There isn't much for us to do whilst we're on our way to Ceres. Once we arrive on the dwarf planet, I'm sure both of us will be so busy that we won't have time to be together like this at all. Even now, onboard the Persephone, it isn't like we can spend all our time like this. Although I did agree to help, Seine has asked me to try and improve her image among the Palestinians. After all, I was far from the only one of my countrymen that didn't approve of having a woman, especially a foreign woman, in charge.
A friend of mine from back on Earth, Mohammed, is also here travelling to Ceres. We've known each other since we were children, and the two of us have always been quite close. But Mohammed is among the many Palestinians who disapproves of Seine. And of my relationship with her. What Seine asked of me, to improve her relationship with the Palestinians, is probably impossible, at least for me to do. They won't listen to me. I haven't talked to Mohammed for quite a while now. It's been at least a couple of months. It isn't like we're not friends any more. It's nothing like he can't forgive me for 'betraying' him in the Palestinians. We just stopped talking because we had a difference of opinions.
But now I'm going to go talk to him. Mohammed's a good speaker. People listen to him when he has something to say. That's why I'm hoping I can convince him to give Seine a fair chance. To at least hear her out, and try to accept that she's going to be in charge of us all. And that if we want to survive out here, we're all going to have to work together. I need to convince him of that. So, I make my way to Mohammed's compartment.
To be honest, I had been trying to put this off as much as possible. Even though I think for certain that I'm right, I don't want to hear him speak against what I've come to believe. It's painful. Not being able to believe and confide in him, my friend of over thirty years. Standing in front of his compartment, I hesitate once again. Why am I so weak that I can't take the next step forward? I don't want to hear him, my best friend, reject me. That's what it comes down to. I don't want him to hate me. It's something as simple as that. But, then, how do I convince him otherwise? Even now, I don't truly believe that I can convince him. If Mohammed is anything, it is stubborn. How am I supposed to convince someone like him of anything?
Perhaps this will be meaningless, but I should try nonetheless, shouldn't I? I owe that much at least to Seine. I promised, after all, that I would try to convince the Palestinians to accept her, and she means the world to me right now. She's everything that I never knew that I wanted. Perhaps that seems silly to say, but it's true. I'm grateful to her, for how she's opened up this world to me. Because of her, I've been able to become someone that I'm proud of. That I could never have become without her. That I could never have become if I didn't leave home behind. For that reason alone, I owe it to her to at least try this much.
The door opens before I can knock. Standing there is Mohammed.
"Just how long are you going to stand there? Your creeping me out."
"You were watching the whole time?"
"Yes. You should just hurry up and knock already. I was getting sick of waiting."
"I was about to…" I trail off, remembering that maybe I shouldn't be so friendly with him, thinking back to the situation that lead us to where we are now. Like I said: it isn't like we had a fight. And it isn't like we're not friends anymore. But it is awkward.
"Can I come in?"