Chapter 3 Khur #2
We talk a little longer about the similarities in our cultures’ beliefs, not mentioning anyone specific.
She doesn't mention the reason for my visit again, but I still walk out with a lighter step. I’m not convinced to take the new position—that isn't going to happen—but at least I have a destination in mind for the rest of my day.
Our talk of urgruffuh and sprimin made me think of my father. He passed on many years before we left Dhugar, and during some of the biggest battles of my life I thought I felt him, just behind me, watching my back.
I never actually got to see battle with him, though.
He was killed by a cowardly silicone bomb during a victory day parade when I was still a cub.
“Our" side, the Dhugeshar had decimated a battalion of Dhugalpar, a rival nation in a brutal and bloody field battle.
In retaliation, they sent bombs to demolish us.
Dhugarens, as a species, are an advanced enough race.
We have science and medicine similar to other races that I’ve met, though none of us are as advanced as the Originem.
We are set apart in our bloodlust though.
Atomic bombs have been invented at least four different times in this galaxy, including on my home planet, but bombs were considered cowardly and amoral on Dhugar.
Hand to hand combat was the most honorable act one could commit.
It took a long time to understand how detrimental that way of life was, but I see now how pointless it all was.
Dhugeshar and Dhugalpar all live in harmony now, for the most part.
Some zealots still hang on to outdated ideas, but they stay quiet or risk rehabilitation courtesy of the Originem.
If we hadn't carried so much hate and prejudice and violence in our hearts, I might still be on Dhugar, and I might still have my father and we could walk through the snow drifts and teach my own son to make ice forts out of compacted snow like he taught me.
Usually these thoughts would knock me over and send me into a depressing spiral I couldn’t pull out of for days, but I thought again about what Minnik said. Perhaps I can honor my father in a small way, instead of letting his memory hurt me further. I know he wouldn’t want that.
The metal floor of Division Five clicks under my claws and it echoes off the high ceilings.
The air is filled with the faint hum of the engines and all the various life support systems hosing through the walls and ceilings.
These are sounds I have grown familiar with over the last five years, since the Originem brought us to the station.
I use them now to ground me as I make my way through the quieter corridors of the division.
The back alleys, if you will, that maintenance workers are privy to.
Like it or not, Sanctuary Station is home. And right now, I need to be in the one place that truly feels like it.
The Originem tried to make all the Divisions equally diverse, but each species is given a space on one of the floors to build their biome. I was part of the team who helped design the biome they gave us. We named it Little Ulvand, after the mountain we worshipped and left behind on our lost planet.
On the far end of Division 5, on the opposite side of the elevator bay, is our very own slice of Dhugar. It takes me almost 45 minutes, but finally I find myself walking through the automatic doors of a space station and onto a snowy mountaintop.
Even as massive as the station is, it could not fit a mountain as big as Ulvand, but with miniature terraformers and our most creative artists and engineers, we made a beautiful facsimile.
I am proud to say I was on that team. It took us over a year, but with the encouragement of the Originem helping us orient to the station, it was a successful and healing project.
I think that was perhaps part of their goal.
They are good, the Originem, though I struggle sometimes to understand why.
Why do they help all these endangered species of the galaxy, especially ones like the Dhugaren, whose demise is completely our own fault?
They say everyone deserves a second chance, but I really struggle to believe that most days.
As I watch young Dhugaren cubs of all shades of fur tumbling around in the snow, it's easier to imagine that world.
A world where we all share the mountain instead of killing each other just to keep others off it.
These young cubs deserve a second chance, but they haven't done the things I've done.
They do not have the same atrocities staining their fur.
Some of the younger ones were probably born here.
This is their home, and I will do everything I can to make it a peaceful, prosperous place for them.
But I will not call the shots. Ever again.
Let someone else carry that burden.
With dark thoughts suddenly clouding my mind again (they weren’t inescapable for long) I trudge uphill, toward the peak of the mountain.