Chapter 2

"We began as wanderers, and we are wanderers still. We have lingered long enough on the shores of the cosmic ocean. We are ready at last to set sail for the stars."

- Carl Sagan

Kamala didn't know this, but the stations that housed spaceships capable of intersystemary travel didn't actually look all that different from the airplane terminal her mother stepped off of twenty-five years ago.

There is, no matter what, a certain universality to these intermediary spaces. Muffled PA systems, advanced thousands of years by alien technology, were now replaced by small, personalizable data screens hovering at Kamala's elbow. They flashed with constant updates, tracking arrivals and departures and air pressure and temperature and a thousand other data points all alike in only one respect - Kamala could not give less of a shit about them.

Earth Station Alpha was originally going to be known, back when it was first conceived of almost 18 years ago, as the International Space Station. It could have been considered a progression in the history of humanity - an uplifting epilogue to America and Russia's space race - had the discovery of the Kree not rendered it all flat. Now, it was no longer an International Space Station, a symbol of reconciliation and cooperation, but the ESA, a mark in galactic history as Earth's first spaceport, opening the planet for trade.

Kamala wasn't sure why she was thinking of that at the moment, when she should have been out of her mind in excitement at her first time in space, her first time off Earth. She looked across the utilitarian waiting area at an alien with three grey heads and thought: do you even know what you're standing on? The rest of the universe had discovered nuclear warfare centuries ago; did they even care that the Earth was nearly torn apart only thirty years before they showed up?

Next to her, Kamran shifted and took her hand. He had clammy hands, but Kamala felt that it would be rude to say something.

"I'm gonna get some coffee, do you want some?"

Kamala glanced at the data screen. "No, I'm good."

"Alright," Kamran said, getting up. "Keep an eye on our bags?"

"Yeah, sure," she said.

She watched him go for a bit, walking down chromium and glass hallways towards the shops outside their gate.

Next to her foot were two huge suitcases, containing a weeks worth of clothes each. Besides that, a toothbrush, and her mother's bangles, Kamala had ditched nearly everything else she owned in a backpack lying on her bed, along with a note. Well, everything except her phone. That, she dropped into a trashcan on the corner of Fifth and Morgenstern, because it felt a little more permanent somehow. Even now, there was a phantom itch in Kamala's right hand, an instinctive wish to click it on and see if anyone was trying to contact her. She tried not to think too hard about who would want to contact her, because it would lead inevitably into thinking about who she was about to leave behind.

Her parents, who just abruptly lost two children in four years. Bruno, who waved goodbye to her on Friday, casual and unsuspecting. Nakia, who she had gotten into a screaming fight with a week ago, and still hadn't totally made up. Kamala wished she could have waited another few weeks, that she could have parted with Nakia on good terms, but longhauls only ran past the ESA once a month, and Kamran had pointed out that if it wasn't a fight with Nakia, there would be something else. Some more unfinished business trying to tether her to Earth.

She leaned back in her seat and watched as a grey-skinned woman fiddled with some data pad and an outlet. She looked a bit like the komodo dragon on a National Geographic spread that Nakia had taped up in her bedroom throughout the middle school years when her dream occupation had been zoologist or xenobiologist. (No veterinary aspirations for Nakia: too ordinary.)

It was a little ironic. It had been Nakia's goal for every career she considered to eventually get off their little planet, get into the wider universe and take advantage of the opportunities there. And yet, here Kamala was, first of their friends to step outside the Earth's atmosphere.

She spotted Kamran walking back with two drinks in his hand, one clearly being an iced milk tea. He settled down in the seat next to her and offered her the cup as he took a long sip of his own warmer drink. After a few seconds, Kamala took the offered tea.

"I know you said no coffee, but I figured you were the type to like tea more," Kamran explained, casually resting his elbow on her armrest. When he sat and leaned down like that, especially while Kamala's back was straight, they were nearly the same height. Her eyes were just level with his earlobes; She noted absently that he swapped his preferred faux diamond studs for a matte black kind.

"Yeah," she said, sipping through the straw. "I like tea."

It was more bitter and less sugary than she usually had it, but it gave her something to do with her hands and a reason not to talk more, so she was okay with it.

Besides, she liked listening to Kamran speak. He had a nice accent - if she listened closer she could hear a little Texas in the vowels - and big ideas. Lots of plans.

"So," he said, tapping at his screen. "We're sharing a cabin, but I heard those are pretty spacious anyways."

Kamala tamped down on the ingrained bolt of fear that came with being alone with a man who wasn't family. It wasn't like Aamir would be here to supervise, and she had been alone with Bruno before. She wasn't sure why Kamran was any different - or rather, she didn't want to think about why Kamran would be any different.

Kamran kept going. "It's only about 5 weeks, plenty of time to learn our way around Ruul. The connection to their wireless network should be available after 20 days. We can start looking for a job to get set up, maybe find an apartment in a human-majority region."

"When does the ship start boarding?" Kamala asked.

"Actually, in about five minutes. Lucky I got back so fast, huh?"

"Yeah," said Kamala, worrying at her fingers. "Lucky."

Kamran had assured her a thousand times that he had enough money to at least make a down payment and keep them alive for the first month, but Kamala couldn't help her anxiety. They would be strangers on a planet with no other contacts, and without even much hope that this was where they would find any answers whatsoever.

The inside of their room on the ship was clean and artificially bright, with a resemblance to a very well-kept college dorm. Kamala and Kamran found their numbered apartment block fairly quickly, and settled in with a slight nervous energy. As Kamala was refolding her shirts to pack into the provided drawers, she thought about how scandalized her parents would be. There was a small divider between the rooms, but she was still about to spend five weeks in relative isolation with a man she was not related to. No chaperone, nothing.

Then she started thinking about why she had no chaperone and decided to table that train of thought entirely.

"Do we know who our neighbors are?" Kamala asked.

"What's that?" Kamran called from the bathroom. There was only one sink, but two sets of drawers, so they had agreed to each split a side. Thankfully, there were two beds separated by an adjustable folding screen.

"I said," Kamala raised her voice slightly, "do we know who our neighbors are?"

Kamran poked his head out of the doorway. "No, do you want me to go ask them?"

"It's fine," said Kamala, getting up off her knees. "I can go." She wanted an excuse to think about something else as well, as putting away clothing was much too unengaging to distract her from herself.

"Are you sure?" Kamran asked. His brows furrowed and he tilted his head. "People can be dangerous around here."

"Well, might as well find out now and not later, then."

"Alright," Kamran said, hesitantly turning his upper body back towards his unpacking. He kept his eyes on Kamala for a bit longer. "Be safe, though."

"I always am," she said. She could almost hear the rejoinder Kamran didn't say: then what are you doing on this trip with a boy you only met a year ago?

When Kamala pressed her hand against the door and it vanished entirely, reappearing only when she stepped outside, she assumed it had done something like scan her fingerprints and retract when it recognized her.

That wasn't true at all.

The doors were only doors in the sense that Kamala, a native human of earth, would call anything that separated openings into different rooms "doors". They were really something closer to very opaque forcefields keyed into the specific skin chemistry of the owner of the room, as that was the cheapest and easiest way to key IDs into those forcefields. It first registered Kamala as "human," and, had there been other humans on the flight in other rooms and therefore a necessity to distinguish, it would have then had to analyze longer and come up with "human who sweats at a rate of about 0.845 ounces an hour" - a perfectly average rate for humans, if you were wondering - "with an unusually low amount of sodium ions and high chromium content," which would then become Kamala's identity inasmuch as the door was concerned.

Kamala did not know any of that, obviously, but the point still stood. For the most part, she would be human first, and Kamala (or, if preferred, 0.845 ounces of sweat with 2.62 µg of chromium) second.

She learned this a different way. She learned this by knocking on a door that was not a door.

The door retracted very quickly to reveal a tall, well-built green woman. Her eyes were a startling shade of yellow, similar to the color of many plastic children's toys, and nearly impossible to find naturally on Earth. Obviously, however, the occurred naturally in other places, or this woman wouldn't have had eyes like that. Those eyes were currently narrowed.

"I'm not buying anything," the woman said, moving to turn away.

"Wait!" Kamala said. "I'm not selling anything!"

The woman stopped and squinted. She asked, "Are you sure?"

Kamala privately thought that was a very stupid question, and yet somehow the kind of question people asked all the time. "I am pretty sure."

"What do you want then?"

"Ah, I just thought it might be nice to introduce myself to the neighbors! We're in the cabin to your right, Kamran and I!" Kamala then realized she hadn't introduced herself. "Oh, I'm Kamala, by the way," she said, sticking her hand out. The green woman glanced down at it, puzzled, before looking back up at her.

"I am Keori."

"Nice to meet you!" Kamala said brightly. "Are you travelling to Ruul for business or pleasure?"

"It is my home. I don't understand the question."

"Oh, gotcha. So you were on Earth for…."

"I own a business. I was checking on the factories there."

"Oh, huh! What kind of business?"

Keori's demeanor changed. Her posture stiffened and one side of her thin lip curled downwards. "If you are looking for a job, there are far more openings for labor on Earth."

"Oh, no, I'm not actually- Well, I kind of am but not like- I swear I wasn't just talking to you because I thought you'd give me a job or something! Really, I'm just looking to make conversation!"

Keori frowned openly and turned away. The door popped back into place, a slightly bluer shade against the bright milky white of the walls. Kamala sighed.

"Well, she sucked," Kamran said from behind her. Kamala turned to see him leaning against their own open door, arms crossed.

"She seemed like she just got asked for things like that a lot," Kamala said, walking back into their own room. "She probably isn't usually like that." Despite that statement, Kamala really didn't feel up to introducing herself to the other neighbors anymore.

"Yeah," Kamran said. Kamala couldn't read the tone in his voice at all. "Hey, maybe tomorrow once we're settled in, we can see if there's anyone from the Nine Realms here. I think we're the only humans, but I bet there's some nidavellir around here, and we're pretty much, like, cousin species at this point."

"Okay," said Kamala. "I think I'd like that. Tomorrow."

"Brand new day."