“I want to meet everyone. And go to all the panels. I don’t know shit about engineering, but I don’t even care. Maybe you could have some basics classes for the kids and the idiots like me?” I joke as we wait for the elevator to slowly rise.
“Watch it,” he growls, “I don’t like it when you talk about yourself badly.”
I laugh and reach up to peck his cheek as the elevators dings our arrival. He leans down to meet me when he sees I won’t quite reach and our lips meet briefly, a spark jumping between them. I love how he defends me, even from myself sometimes. I tug his hand, dragging him along behind me as I eagerly enter the 39th floor, then stop in my tracks as I take in my surroundings.
It’s like entering another world. The elevator bay is a lonely island, the only hint of metal surrounded by nothing but blue. Water laps at the small platform, no bigger than the living room of my apartment, with the elevator right in the middle, its shaft extending up into the ceiling. It’s so high, it reminds me of the Wonka elevator shooting up into the sky. To the left, they’ve connected a small dock with long thin boats like kayaks, and a group of citizens, including a few species I haven’t even seen yet, are queued up waiting to take them out. The artificial sky stretches above us for what seems like miles, disappearinginto the horizon, and it’s the most perfect shade of blue I’ve ever experienced. There’s no “sun” to be seen, but it’s bright and sunny nonetheless, and warm as a summer day. At first I thought that there was nothing but water, but as I look around I see little islands and rocky outcroppings far in the distance.
“I don’t know what this has to do with dancing, but I can’t wait to find out,” I squeak out as I stare around in awe.
“The Mercasians are, from what I’ve heard, some of the best dancers in the universe.”
“Ooh we’re here to watch dancing. That makes sense. I don’t think we’ll fit on one of those boats, though, Khur,”and I’m not sure I’d want to.
Standing on the solid platform feels nice and safe, but those narrow kayaks freak me out. I still have nightmares sometimes of the four days my father and I spent on his jon boat before the Originem found us. The water that surrounded us then was nothing like this blue oasis. It was gray and brown, brackish and stinky and full of dead things. So it's easy for my mind to draw a line firmly between the two scenarios, but getting on one of those boats is maybe pushing that line a bit.
“I chartered a boat for us. It should be here soon," he tells me.
Like he’s summoned it, a sailboat comes into view in the distance, its sail a vivid orange against the blue sky. As it gets closer I see an alien I don’t recognize steering towards the docks. They are tall and broad, with skin a similar shade of orange to the sail on their boat, and as they see Khur and I waiting they give us a big, friendly wave.
“You’re going to like Mojo,” Khur tells me as he waves back, releasing my hand and moving forward to help secure the boat to the dock.
I stifle a laugh and move forward as well. The newcomer is one of the most human looking aliens I’ve seen so far. He looks like a six-foot-tall supermodel with carrot-orange skin and long, thick tentacles growing from his head, some as long as his waist. The stranger–Mojo–is wearing a white loincloth with beads and shells adorning it like a ceremonial skirt. If I wasn’t already head over heels for my own alien, I would be checking him out like this is the express lane at the grocery store. Instead, I settle for quick peeks at his alien abs. I count no less than fourteen clearly defined abdominal muscles stacked atop that tiny loincloth. He is going to make someone very happy one day, indeed.
“Hi! I am Mojo, you’re guide for this day. Thank you for using Exciting Boats!” he says with a forced, but sort of endearing enthusiasm.
“Hey, Mojo, thanks for doing this for us. I’m Khur, this is my girlfriend, Destiny,” Khur hands him the bottle of ice wine and Mojo lights up.
“Ahh, Gunnvall's famous brew. I’ve been desperate to try this wine for ages now. It is a good trade.”
“It is a good trade,” Khur repeats back, like a ritual. “Your boat is beautiful, and the scenery even more so.”
Mojo nods his agreement before climbing back into the boat and helping Khur find his footing to follow him. Khur leans down to hoist me over the side and before I know it we’re off. Khur and I find a spot at the bow and watch as we make our way across the blue abyss.
“Mojo is Curaquo. They came from an island planet, so they are quite at home here on the aquatic level,” he tells me once we are settled.
“How did you hear about him? Is this his job?”
“No jobs here, remember? But essentially, yes. Mojo charters trips on his sailboat in exchange for favors and goods. Josep mentioned that Mojo is a connoisseur of exotic alcohol. And Gunnvall’s ice wine is a hot commodity. I upgraded some of the equipment on his food cart in exchange for a bottle. Though I think he would have given me one anyway, honestly. He really like you.” He nudges me good naturedly as we lean against the railing. As usual, the resident aliens are taller on average than humans are, so it sits about chest-level to me. At least I still have a view, though.
“We basically have a massive trade and barter system on Sanctuary,” I ponder out loud, “I need to figure out how I can offer something unique to that.”
“You are unique, Destiny. I have never met anyone like you.”
“As sweet as that is, my personality isn’t really something I can trade for goods and services.”
“Ah, yes, I see what you mean. We will have to think of something.”
We lapse into a comfortable silence, pointing out rocky little islands that pop up occasionally. The sand on the islands is black and if I squint I can see small, scuttling shelled creatures on the land. I avoid looking down into the water, because it brings up unsettling feelings I don’t want to consider too deeply, but when I look across the horizon it’s fine, especially when I see fish jump up and splash back down, doing somersaults in the air.
Ahead, there is an island bigger than the others we’ve seen so far, big enough to have a few spindly trees on it. They look nothing like the palm trees I’ve been expecting and more like windmills with the propeller sitting at the top of fat cone-shaped trunks, perpendicular with the ground. The smaller boats have started to congregate aroundthe island, with some citizens pulling ashore and hopping out with blankets, while others seem content to float a short distance away.
Following Khur’s lead, I settle back into the plush cushions lining the bow of the sailboat and Mojo comes around to sit by us. The sailboat is decked out in orange, white and gold. It’s luxurious and comfortable and oh-so-elegant.
“How did you get this boat, Mojo? It’s gorgeous,” I ask, running my hand over the white, leather-like seats we are sitting on.
“This is my boat. I brought it with me when we moved here.” He looks so proud, he’s practically glowing.
“How did you manage that? The Originem only let us bring one suitcase a piece onto the station. Not that I had much else, anyways, but still…” It kind of stings a bit, honestly. Are humans the second class citizens on this station?
