Chapter 2 Destiny
Destiny
Fulfillment positions aren’t required on Sanctuary Station.
Everyone is taken care of regardless of their participation in their society.
For those who choose to forgo fulfillment positions, there are other ways of making credits.
Food stalls and art vendors in the common corridors of each division, for example.
Everyone, though, food vendors and janitors and even those who stay in their apartment and never leave, are provided with necessities.
Every apartment has access to water and is equipped with a food machine that is programmed with a certain number of daily caloric output based on your household size.
Everyone gets standard jumpsuits, two of them, both gray.
As well as toiletries, medicine, and two pairs of shoes a year.
Or we will get shoes, once they find some to fit our feet.
I’m especially grateful that I traded my old camera for sneakers as I leave our new apartment and wander, looking for an information center or a customer service desk or something. You don’t realize the importance of good footwear until you don’t have any.
The orientation videos did take away some of the shock factor of seeing aliens, and go over the basics of outer space living, but I still feel completely lost as I find my way out of our subdivision and back into the main corridor.
The noise and crowd has died down somewhat and I don’t have to throw any elbows to make my way down the hall, drinking in the wild sights the same way I drank the water given to us when the Originem found us: like I am dying of thirst. Perhaps I’ve been dying from lack of color and sound, of culture, because I am really starting to feel alive again.
This. This is what I need. An adventure.
Without warning, a huge, furry elbow hits my shoulder, sending me backwards ass first into the ground.
“Ow!” I shout as I rub my tailbone.
“Watch where you’re going, neophyte!” the ash-gray Dhugaren growls at me before disappearing into the crowd.
Fighting tears, I flatten my palms onto the ground to push myself up, but before I can rise a clawed footsteps right on my fingers, slicing the edge of my pinky open. Kicking me while I’m down? That’s just plain rude.
“What the hell!” I shout again, pushing myself up with aggression and pulling my hand free as I stand.
I cradle my left hand in my right, feeling the blood slick on my palm.
I will not cry. I will not cry. But I have no idea what I will do, because I am bleeding profusely and I have no clue where so much as a first aid kit is on this stupid station.
No, not stupid station, I correct myself, just stupid orientation videos.
Every minimum wage job I’ve ever had included the location of the first aid kit in the training videos.
“Mighty Ulvand! I am so sorry. I didn’t see you down there. What were you doing on the floor?”
A standard issue gray jumpsuit appears in my line of sight, then, as the wearer squats, a face comes into focus.
A Dhugaren woman, I think, based on the curves obscured in her jumpsuit and the overall femininity of her face.
Her eyes seem to be bigger, with thick lashes, and she’s currently giving me a kind smile, fangs included.
I just barely reign in my flinch, so I’ll thank the videos for that at least. Not because she's scary or hideous, just kind of shocking the first time you see them up close.
“I–I fell. I just need a bandage maybe?” I respond, gesturing with my chin towards my hands clasped at my chest, currently leaking blood onto some of my last scraps of human clothing.
“Oh, look at that. Blood just as red as the rest of us. Hmmph, well come on new thing. Gunnvall will have a bandage for you. What are you anyways?” she asks as she guides me with a gentle hand towards a nearby stall.
With her bulk next to me, people give us a wide berth and I’m starting to wonder how the little elves—I really need to figure out what they’re called—don’t get bowled over every time they leave the house.
We’re soon in front of a small shop which really consists of a floating cart (magnets, I think?
Orientation Videos, seriously poorly lacking) covered with a soft blue tablecloth, simple and unadorned.
Behind the cart stands a portly Dhugaren, and elderly if the gray hairs coming out of his brown ears are any indication.
One of his horns is broken in half and juts sharply from his head like a tree stump. He grins widely as we approach.
“Hello, Furga. What have you found here? One of these new humans I heard about?”
“Hey, Gunn, I feel terrible. I accidentally stepped on her. I think they may be quadrupedal.” Furga looks at me sideways. “Do you usually walk on four legs or two?”
“Well, these are my arms. So, no I don’t usually walk on them.” I answer, in a bit of a daze. What was going on here? “Did you, er, Gunnvall, sir, do you have a bandage?”
“Let’s take a look, blood as red as the rest of us, I see.
” He reaches for my hand, sliding a ceramic plate onto the table below to catch the blood now dripping from my hand.
“Tsk. Hold it here. You’re going to need a bit more than a bandage.
I’d love to have some gauze right about now.
Not sustainable enough, my fuzzy brown tail. ”
He mutters and grumbles, mostly to himself it seems, as he bends to rummage around the shelves under his cart.
Strangely, I do not see a tail. Holding my hand gingerly over the ceramic, I glance over at Furga.
She is staring at me a little too widely, and I wonder, for just a second, if she is considering eating me with those huge fangs of hers.
Then I mentally kick myself, because what a speciest thing to think.
Of course Dhugarens aren't all bloodthirsty beasts. They’re just as civilized as humans are.
This thought does not help. Humans are the worst people I know.
So I smile back and say, “Thank you. For rescuing me back there. I think I might have gotten trampled if you hadn’t stopped to help.”
“I’m happy to help a fellow citizen, especially a kumen.”
“Huu-man,” I correct absentmindedly.
In front of me, Gunnvall has started cleaning my hand with a thick piece of cloth. I watch as he pulls out a glass cylinder and depresses the end, spraying my hand with cool liquid. Expecting the burn of alcohol, I flinch, but the liquid is only cool and mildly minty smelling. I wrinkle my nose.
“Antiseptic?”
“And antibacterial, antiviral, though I don’t think that will be a concern here. It also has properties that will speed up healing.” The elderly man looks smug as he pats the wound one more time and winds a cloth bandage around my palm.
“Gunn here used to be a field medic,” Furga offers, seeing my surprise.
“One thing I learned in the field, always be prepared.” He wiggles his ears in what I think is the approximation of a wink, and is honestly the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Thank you. Seriously.” My eyes get misty for a second, wanting to better share my gratitude for both of their kindnesses, but I can’t find the words, so instead I say, “What are you selling here?”
“A little Dhugaren delicacy called fortswap. Would you like to try some?”
“I’ve never had Dhugaren food before. I’d love to get some as soon as I find a fulfillment position. You’ll be my first stop once the credits start rolling in.”
“No need to wait!”
“You need a position?”
Furga and Gunnvall respond at the same time. I swivel my head between the two, craning my neck to look up at them. I’m going to need to invest in some platform shoes or I am going to develop quite the neck ache.
Gunnvall gestures at Furga to speak before turning around and shouting over his shoulder at us. “Don’t wander off anywhere!”
“You are in need of a fulfillment position?” Furga asks me again.
“Oh, yea. I was hoping something in customer…er... citizen service? I like to talk to people.”
“Well, have I got the job for you. I’ve been needing help at the Supply Station forever.” Furga looks absolutely giddy so I smile back at her.
“Sounds good. I can help with the register or whatever.”
I worked at a grocery store, a gas station, and a discount furniture store all within the span of six months.
I liked to talk to people, but usually, they did not like to talk to me.
Something like this would surely be different, though.
Everyone on Sanctuary Station has everything they need provided for them.
They just have to go pick it up. So they are probably a lot happier than the people putting $4.
63 in coins in their gas tank, or signing half their salary away for a loveseat with cupholders.
“Well, that was easier than I expected. Come by tomorrow around the 8th hour and I’ll give you the rundown. It's as easy as shooting a wursplut in the eye on a full moon.”
“I’m going to assume that’s an extremely easy task on Dhugar.”
“Wursplut go moonstruck. Stare all wide-eyed and mesmerized.”
“Poor things. Must make them easy targets on the full moon.”
“Especially considering we have four of them.”
“Wurspluts?”
“No, moons. Wurspluts are livestocks on Dhugar. Or were, I guess. None of them left now.” Furga’s ears droop and I instinctively reach out to pat her arm.
“Your first alien delicacy, little human,” Gunnvall says as he places a steaming basket of what looks like crispy pita bread type crackers covered in a shiny layer of oil and spices, “I do apologize, I haven’t asked your name yet.”
“I’m Destiny. Thank you so much for this. These fortswap smell amazing.”
“Destiny…like fate? Humans have strange names. I like it! I’m Furga!” She grabs my hand in both of hers and shakes vigorously. Her fingers are greasy from the fortswap. “I learned that in a data vid! Wanted to be able to welcome the new arrivals.”
A little burst of affection blooms towards Furga. I desperately want her to be my first friend on the station. She’s just so nice. And if she’s a little quirky, well I like her even more.
“Thanks. That’s really kind. The orientation videos they sent me were not very educational.” I grimace a little. I don’t know the Dhugaren’s idea of a handshake and I don’t want to be rude. She must misunderstand my facial expression, though.
“Oh, well in that case, let me give you a tour of the station!”
“Why don’t you start a bit smaller?” Gunvall interrupts smoothly as he slides a cloth napkin towards where I’m currently shoving another fortswap in my mouth.
They're spicy and buttery and crispy all at once, absolutely delicious. I think he’s talking to me at first. I did shove a whole cracker in my mouth just as he looked over. Terrible timing, really, but then he looks back at Furga.
“Give her a tour of the Division first. Let the poor woman acclimate a bit.” He smiles at me in a grandfatherly way.
Furga bounces up and down next to me like a child. Her excitement is already rubbing off on me and my own from earlier is frothing up inside of me like a shaken soda.
“I know just the place to take you!” she says with a toothy grin.