“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 crackerscovered 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. Thesefortswapsmell 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 thefortswap. “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 sonice. 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 anotherfortswapin 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.
3
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 theleaderof 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 rulestheymade 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’splaying absent-mindedly on his infopad blatantly ignoring the flashing light in the corner of the screen indicating there’s a service call.
“Like what?”
