Chapter 3 Khur
Khur
“Have you thought anymore about what we talked about, Khur?” asks Josep, the Originem who says he isn’t my commander. He's just the leader of the team of maintenance workers who keep Division Five running smoothly.
He sure feels like my commander when he calls me to his desk and steeples his fingers like he’s doing now, though.
“I told you last week, Josep, I really don’t want any more responsibility. I’ve got enough on my plate.” I know I’m grumbling, but I can’t seem to stop.
I’m grateful for my place here, but sometimes these folk tend to overstep.
Josep wants me to take over his position as “team leader.” I know it’s also because he’s ready to move up to the top levels, where Originem who don’t have to abide by the diversification rules keep their own apartments—the rules they made up.
Why can’t he promote Meshi instead, though?
I asked him this last week and I’m tempted to ask again, but my eyes slide over to the Winged-One in question and I know Josep is right.
He just isn’t leadership material. Right now he’s playing absent-mindedly on his infopad blatantly ignoring the flashing light in the corner of the screen indicating there’s a service call.
“Like what?”
“What?” I am so deep in my head I forgot what we are talking about.
And he thinks I should be in charge. Pfft.
No way. Never again. I commanded men my entire life on Dhugar, and most of them didn’t make it off that cursed planet.
I swore when the Originem found us huddled in a bunker, that I’d never be responsible for lives in that way again.
“What is currently on your plate? Anything I can help with?”
He sounds so sincere, and that’s what makes it even worse, because I know he really is sincere. He’s a really nice guy, and probably as close to a friend as I’ve got, both him and Meshi. Ulvand knows I don’t have many Dhugaren friends. My sister not counting, of course.
“Just, you know, helping Urzu with the kids, my current responsibilities with maintenance. Sometimes I help Furga with her brewing.” I finish lamely.
Even I know how ridiculous that sounds. He and I both know I’m not going to speak about the real reason, though.
I won’t lead a team again. Not even a maintenance team.
Too many life or death situations. Too many things could go wrong.
I suppress a shudder and force myself to box up that thought and bury it.
I can feel Josep’s eyes boring into me, and I purposefully avoid his glare.
“Hm. Well, my friend. Why don’t you think about it a bit longer?
Talk to Urzu, perhaps to Furga, too. I think they would agree with me when I say this is a good opportunity for you to stretch your legs, so to speak.
You could be good for this Division, Khur.
Even better than you already are. I know you have a lot to offer.
Don’t let the past hold you back forever.
” With that he lowers his steepled fingers and nods decisively at me in clear dismissal.
As I make my way to my own desk, his words rolling in my head, he adds, “Take the rest of the day off. Meshi and I can handle the calls today.”
I never take time off, and I am not sure I want to start now, but that sounds like a command, not a suggestion, so I wave at my co-workers and leave the maintenance office without another word.
The free time that has just been conjured looms ahead of me menacingly, like a night-battle on a moonless night, I fear what could jump out of that darkness.
Standing in the corridor for several minutes, I try to gain control of my breathing.
This end of the division sees less foot traffic, luckily, so I have no witnesses to my little meltdown besides a nosy little Silfan who raises her periwinkle eyebrows at me.
I growl just enough to make her scurry back from whence she came.
Without another resolution, I turn on my heel and march back into the office.
“Josep, sir, I would prefer to work today."
The Originem bastard has his fingers steepled again. He was already staring at the door when I walked back in, like he was expecting me. It almost makes me want to turn around and march back out, but I can't think of anywhere to go.
"I made you an appointment with a friend of mine. Minnik is a fantastic guidance counselor and a great listener. You'll find her waiting for you in Sub 6, apartment 5.”
How dare this unmuscled welp presume so much?
Now Josep you've got too far—”
"Khur, my friend, I know what you're going to say, so I'll make you a deal."
Ulvand damn him, he had to use that word again.
“Fine, friend. What do you have in mind?"
“Go see Minnik, just this one time. If you don't like her you don't ever have to go back. And regardless of whether you decide to start meeting with her regularly or not, I'll never ask about the position again."
“Why would you agree to that? I know you want to go upstairs."
“Some things are more important than what one wants."
What the hell is that supposed to mean? Do I even want to know?
“Fine. I'll go. Sub 6 you said?"
“Yup, apartment 5."
Sub 6 apt 5 is marked with unfamiliar characters, so I have to check the two on either side.
The Originem had the bright idea to put door numbers in the language of the occupants, then encouraging us to mingle and visit one another.
Luckily Dhugarens live in apartments 4 and 6 so I know I'm knocking on the right door.
I don't have much time to ponder what kind of alien I'm meeting before the door swings inward.
At first it appears there's no one there, but a throat clearing draws my attention down.
The Silfa in front of me is so short she's at eye level with the utility belt still slung across my hips.
The Silfa, who I presume is Minnik, is pale blue with short, spiky gray hair that displays her long, pointed ears prominently.
She looks up at me with a stern face that brooks no argument and barks at me to come in before turning on her heel.
She doesn't bother to see if I'm following only shouts behind her shoulder as she enters the spacious common area.
“Shut the door behind you!”
I do it without thinking and follow her in. I'm not one to blindly follow orders, but if Josep trusts her I'm going to give her a chance. It almost feels good to just do what I'm told for once without questioning it. I'm so tired of questioning everything all the time.
The sprite settles into a small chair on wheels across from a small couch made for three Silfa. She gestures for me to sit and I do. I fill out the entire thing and it groans a little as I settle in. I try to ignore it.
“So I spoke with my friend Josep. He said you were having a hard time figuring out your next steps."
“Why do I need next steps? Why can't I just be where I am now? Does the station need me so badly?"
“Hm. That's a good question. Does your job often get bombarded with calls you can't handle?"
“No, it's relatively easy. I had an engineering degree back on Dhugar, you know." Why did I say that? I never talk about Dhugar. I just don't want her to think I am incapable, I guess.
“Well I suppose you still do."
“Huh?”
“Sanctuary Station recognizes all planet earned degrees and certifications. You may need a refresher course on some of the different technologies but I imagine you'd pick up quickly,” she says.
“I already did them, ma'am.”
“Call me Minnik, please,” she replies, smiling for the first time.
“I already got the updated courses. I'm fully qualified, Minnik,” I say with a tinge of pride.
“Then why, may I ask, did you obtain such advanced knowledge if not to use it?”
“I am using it. Beyond answering daily service calls, I help the other maintenance workers with their cases when they can't solve them and I've been working on some updates to our artificial daylight machines.
I just don't want to lead again." Shit. Now why did I say that? She would surely latch on to that word…
"Again? Were you a leader of some kind on Dhugar?”
That was enough talk about my home planet for the day. I stood up and brushed the knees of my jumpsuit free of wrinkles. "I appreciate your time, Minnik, but I'm not up for talking about Dhugar anymore. Ever.”
With that I head for the door, but I can't tune her response out and, damn it, it makes me hesitate.
"If we don't talk about it, how will we keep it alive?”
“I don't want to keep it alive!” I practically roar. She has some nerve. "I want it dead and gone and wiped out of memory forever.”
“I thought that too, of my home world. For a long time I thought I wanted Esprit dashed from the history books of every species. Then one day I remembered the flowers.”
I snort.
“I know. The flowers. How mundane. But when I was a child, I'd braid the wildflowers into crowns for my sisters and I. None of them made it off the planet. I didn't want the flowers forgotten. And I didn't want my sisters forgotten either.”
She levels me with a long, piercing look.
"We have to reconcile the ghosts of our pasts so we can bring forth the sprimin.
I know that's probably not translating. Sprimin are essentially good ghosts in Silfish culture. They follow you and protect you and guide you towards the best possible thread of your fate.”
Ah, like urgruffuh for Dhugarens. Our guardian warriors, guiding our blades and our bullets.
I had forgotten about them; I actively try hard not to think about anything that reminds me of my home planet.
Thinking of the urgruffuh makes me soften a bit, though.
I follow her back into the seating area.