““By the time the plan's wheels touched down on a desolate stretch of desert runway, the sun had cleared a ridge of mountains and revealed a land the color of dust. The single building that served as a terminal was squat and seemingly of the same dust. The Middle East? Eliza wondered. Tattooine? A sign, handpainted, was illegible in exotic, curling letters. Arabic, at a guess. That probably eliminated Tattooine.””
