Over the next few hours, the three of us start making some rough ideas for meeting with and sharing ideas with other floors. We decide a conference of sorts would be best, with panels of informed speakers and discussion groups on specific topics. Meshi wants to rope the Silfan mechanics into hosting a panel, while I’m more interested in the engineering side. Turns out that on more than one planet, engineers and mechanics tend to butt heads. Finally, Josep sits back in his chair with a sigh.
“I knew humans would make a good impact on this station, though I couldn’t have predicted just how they’d do it,” he says, more to himself than to us.
Meshi and I exchange a look, “What do you mean, Josep?”
“Hmm?” He looks over at us, perhaps surprised we were replying to something he hadn’t meant to say aloud, “well, I voted in favor of inviting a group of them to Sanctuary Station. I thought they would have a positive impact on the population here, and I was right. Though, like I said, I wasn’t sure how it would play out exactly.”
“Why did you think that?” I ask as Meshi asks his own question.
“Are there species that don’t get the vote?”
Josep looks at me first. “Humans are special. They seem to be more optimistic, more open minded, than other species we’ve rescued. So far, all the races we’ve brought to Sanctuary have integrated wonderfully, despite the rare bad apple, to steal a human term, but there’s been no melding, no meshing of the different cultures like we had originally envisioned. Originem are not here to tell anyone how to live, only to give everyone a chance at a new life. I thought humans might inject something more into society here. And I think your Destiny is proving me right.”
I feel a little injection myself at his words, of pure happiness at the thought of her asmy Destiny. I also consider how true Josep's words really are. She is different from others on this station, and Hope seems to be as well, if flying with Silfans in her first week was any indication. Even Meshi and a few Winged-Ones joined in from the spectators, when they never had before. I ponder this as Josep addresses Meshi next.
“And to answer your question, yes. There are refugee groups who would not fit into Sanctuary or the ideals we have established here. The Originem have to find other ways to fit them into the galaxy. None are as fortunate as those who have ended up here, in my humble opinion,” he states plainly.
I can tell Meshi is brimming with more questions, but Josep cuts them off with the wave of a tired hand, “That’s all I’m willing to say for now. We’ve gotten a lot accomplished today.” He rises from his desk before turning to me. “Khur, I’m proud of your tenacity in taking the lead on this project. Whatever resources you need from us, don’t hesitate to ask. I know how difficult it must have been for you to speak up, but I have no doubt you’ll rise to the challenge.”
I choke up for a minute as pride clashes with the realization that I will be heading this conference, but I manage a nod and a thick, “Thank you, sir.”
I can do this.
When I finally make it back to the apartment this evening, Urzu is working on her weaving again. As soon as I’m through the door, though, she rolls it up and gives me a secretive smile.
“This flash is revealing itself to be quite special. I think it will be done soon. It’s for you and Destiny.”
The last flash Urzu weaved me was over a decade ago, depicting a hard-fought battle that I eventually received an award for. It showed a comrade and I in of our last moments together. He died on the battlefield that day. The tapestry is currently rolled up in my closet, but for the first time I consider getting it out and hanging it. Hunnar was a fierce warrior, and an even better friend. It shames me to think that I haven’t tried harder to remember and honor him. It also makes me extremely wary to consider what could be on this new weaving.
“I wish you hadn’t told me that, if you aren’t going to let me see it,” I grumble to my sister.
“Don’t fret, brother. It is a good flash. I promise you,” She keeps smiling to herself, like she just can’t resist, “as it has revealed itself to me, it's been hard to keep this one to myself. It will be a difficult seven days for the both of us.”
I knew she wouldn’t reveal anything about the flash until it was done, so I resisted pestering her about it. When she’d given me the one of Hunnar and me, I’d been livid. She knew what was going to happen and didn’t say anything. She couldn’t, though. It was like a compulsion, she told me, after I’d raged at her for not saving my friend. She couldn’t speak of it, and she couldn’t change the outcome of whatever the flash revealed.Believe me, I’ve tried, she’d said when I’d finally calmed down enough to talk like a civilized Dhugaren. The pain and regret in her voice had been enough to make me drop it.
“Let’s distract ourselves with dinner, then. I have worked up quite an appetite today. Would you like to help me prepare our meal while I tell you about it?”
“That sounds lovely, Khur. It’s just us four tonight. Furga has plans.” She wiggles her ears teasingly.
“Furga? Our Furga? Has plans with someone other than you?”
“I think our Furga may finally be ready to make a move on poor Shemo.”
“Really? What prompted that? What about her uncle?” Furga’s uncle is notoriously crabby and hateful. A zealot to the extreme, only Furga’s completely unearned affection has kept him out of rehabilitation. I know that is the biggest thing holding her back from pairing up with the Winged-One she is obviously in love with.
“It seems like your Destiny is changing more than just your attitude, brother. Furga tells me she’s glowing with happiness. She said she saw how happy her new friend was and kept thinking,I want to feel like that.”
I practically vibrate to hear Destiny being calledmineagain. “Did Destiny tell her about our date? Tell me everything Furga said!”
18
Destiny
My spine is a steel rod as I walk into my apartment. I’m trying to channel Khur’s energy as I prepare to confront my dad. Confident, self-assured, and not completely freaking the fuck out. I picture Khur when he slammed Shemo into the counter on my first day at the supplies station, fierce and assertive as he demanded his friend apologize to me, and square my shoulders. I could do this.
“Dad, I’m home. Are you here?” I call into the empty space as the lights brighten slowly.
Within moments, he shambles out of the hallway, still in the musty robe I last saw him in. That will be the first thing to go, once I get him out of the apartment and into some therapy. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me with one raised eyebrow.
