Worth It

The more technologically advanced a shelter, the more disconnected it was from nature. In the case of Travers Station, that was a necessity. Outside the station, nature was nothing other than lethal to all the inhabitants of the station.

The sapient creatures that inhabited the station came from multiple stars. All of them had their own evolutionary history that drove them to innovate. They all had their own social evolution that drove that innovation to push them out among the stars. Still, none of them had evolved in an environment like the one outside the station.

Nature outside the station was the vacuum of space, bathed in the intense ultraviolet radiation of the O4 class star it was here to study. The closest thing to nature inside the rotating station was the garden. Comprising one quarter of the highest ring, with the lowest apparent gravity, the garden boasted shielded windows which allowed precise amounts of light and UVB from the deadly star. Still, warning signs about possible dermal damage were posted outside and throughout the garden, along its well-tended walking paths.

Just inside the spinward entrance of the garden was a picnic table and a collection of chairs in different sizes and shapes to accommodate the many different body plans on the station. It was there that the self-proclaimed “Lunch Club” met once a week.

“Easy,” the crab-like creature said around mandibles that worked at a walnut shell, “the scora — I mean the artificial is okay, but it’s nothing like the real thing, fresh from the ground at home.” His carapace was a dull yellow with pale green spots. His manipulator limbs ended with segmented fingers tipped with a claw made from the endoskeleton that extended outside the exoskeleton. Each of his eight walking limbs ended with a single such skeletal claw.

The orange furred creature seated next to him twiddled with a distraction toy with the middle two of her six multiuse limbs, the lower two grasped like folded hands, while the upper two deftly stacked a sandwich with deli-sliced meats and cheeses, interleaved with lettuce and pickles. “I don’t know,” she said. “I mean, I miss a lot from home, but it’s hard to say which I miss the most. Maybe it’s my family.”

“The same family that you complain about?” the crab-like alien asked.

“Hurtur, be nice,” the bronze-skinned human woman interjected.

“Just because they make me mad sometimes doesn’t mean I don’t miss them.”

“Apologies, Gexna,” Hurtur said around the crunches of the walnut shells he was busy stuffing himself with.

She took a bite of the sandwich that seemed as tall as her head, but her jaws opened wide to accommodate with teeth well-suited to shred and crush. With her mouth full as she chewed, she said “You’re fine. But maybe I miss my boat on the lake more than my family, or—”

“Let Marina answer,” Hurtur cut her off. “It’s her question, after all. What do you miss most from your home?”

Marina sighed. “Weather. I miss weather. Rain, wind, hot days, cold days, snow, fog, all of it.”

Gexna’s large, pink eyes grew wide. “Ooh, that’s a good one. I sometimes take a cool shower, close my eyes, and pretend it’s raining.”

“Don’t spend too long doing that, though,” Hurtur said, “or you’ll exceed your water allowance.”

“Says the guy with a hundred-liter exotic fishtank in his office.” Marina laughed. “I do that sometimes, too, Gexna.”

“Hey, that tank and those fish were gifts from the Terran ambassador.” Hurtur clicked his mandibles. “Besides, it belongs to the office, not me.”

“But you are the ambassador, it is your office, and,” Gexna leaned closer to him, “the gift was addressed to you by name.”

“Fine, it’s mine, but I still stay within my allowance.”

“We all do,” Marina said.

Gexna closed her eyes. “I wish I could walk in the mist once in a while.”

“Mist?” Marina asked.

“Back home, we didn’t get rain often, but we would get a fine mist every morning.” She ran her fingers down the fur of her arm. “It would bead up on my fur and drip off. Such a refreshing feeling.”

Marina smiled. “We used to get misty rain like that in the autumn at home, too. I might have an idea.”

“You’re not going to do something crazy, are you?” Hurtur asked.

“No, nothing crazy. Just, meet me at the anti-spinward entrance to the garden right after the third shift start.”

“That’s so far, though,” Hurtur said.

“It’s literally only four kilometers from here.” Marina shook her head.

“But there’s no tram through the garden,” he complained.

“Take the tram the other direction, then. It’s twenty minutes on the express,” Gexna said. “We won’t get in trouble for being in here late, will we?”

“Nah,” Marina gave the furry creature a hug. “My brother works in a special section of the garden. I’ll clear it with him this afternoon.”

“I’ll be on the first express tram after the end of second shift,” Hurtur said. “Until then, I’ve got paperwork to see to.”

“See you then.” Gexna waved with the distraction toy. “I should get back to work myself.”

“See you this evening.” Marina made sure to police up the table area to make sure they left nothing behind before she exited the garden.

Hours later, when she re-entered the spinward door of the garden to walk to the far end, she found Gexna waiting for her. “Are you walking with me to the other end?”

“Yes. I could use the exercise.”

“Nonsense. You’re in fabulous shape.”

“I have just been spending too much time sitting in one place.” Gexna moved in an undulating gait on all six limbs beside the human woman.

“It’s too easy to do that here,” Marina said.

“What is it your brother does?”

“You’ll see.”

They reached the other end of the garden just in time for Hurtur to enter from that door. “Ugh. That tram ride was interminable.”

“Twenty minutes is interminable?” Marina asked.

“It is when there’s a wailing child three seats away.”

“Why didn’t you—”

“The tram was full,” he cut Marina off.

“Well, follow me. I think you’ll like this.” She led them down a side path that led into ever-denser foliage. The scent of moisture greeted them a few hundred meters in. A wall of flexible slats hung in front of them, painted in a color that disappeared in the trees.

Moving aside the slats, she motioned them in. “Welcome to the moss garden.”

Inside, they were greeted by a cool mist, with soft moss underfoot, and dozens of types of moss growing on every surface. Hurtur made a sound the other two had never heard, a sort of grumbling purr. “Oh, this is marvelous,” he said.

Gexna stretched her body out to nearly double her normal length. Water droplets formed on her fur, and she shivered with a giggle, causing them to run off in rivulets. “This feels like home.”

Marina smiled. “The misters run every day for the entire third shift. We can stay as long as you like. Or at least until we’re all soaked.”

Hurtur stepped farther down the mossy path, then lay down. He flattened himself out until gaps appeared along the edges of his carapace and let out what could only be a heavy sigh. “Can we come back?” he asked.

“Every day if you want,” Marina answered, “if you can deal with screaming toddlers on the tram.”

Hurtur spread himself out as far as his legs would stretch on the mossy path. “Worth it.”