‘I’m Jacira. I’m a bug farmer, and I’ll be talking to you about food stores and water management.’

‘Hey there, I’m Sunny.’ He smiled with all the confidence in the world. ‘I’m a sex worker, and I’ll be explaining where to go if you want to get laid.’

The young woman stared. The man laughed. The Aeluon looked at him, confused as to what was funny.

The instructors continued – a mural artist, a mech tech, a trade-only merchant – until there were no more names to give. Eyas turned to the class. ‘Now, I’d like you three to introduce yourselves as well. Who are you, where are you from, and what brings you here?’

The students sat in silence for a moment, like all groups of strangers did. The man spoke first. ‘I’m Bruno,’ he said. ‘I’m a spacer. From Jupiter Station originally, but that was a long time ago. I haul cargo – foodstuff, mainly. The Fleet’s been one of my stops for six standards now, and I’m considering putting an end to all the back and forth. I like the people here, but I’m . . . I’m not quite sure yet.’ He gestured to the instructors. ‘I was hoping you could give me a better idea of what I’d be in for.’

Eyas smiled. ‘We’ll certainly try.’

‘I’m Lam,’ the Aeluon said. ‘I am sure you weren’t expecting me.’

The room chuckled. ‘Not exactly,’ Eyas said kindly.

‘I’m from Sohep Frie, and I’m a textile merchant,’ Lam said. ‘I’m not going to relocate here, but I would like to understand the Exodans I work with better. They make great effort to make me comfortable. I’d like to be able to do the same.’

Eyas hadn’t considered that other species might find value in a Exodan cultural crash course. Something to add to the workshop description, she supposed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Amad, the poster maker, already making a note on her scrib. ‘That’s wonderful,’ Eyas said. ‘We’re delighted to have you here.’ She looked to the woman. ‘And what about you?’

The young woman swallowed. Eyas could tell she was shy. ‘I’m Anna,’ the woman said. ‘I don’t really . . . I guess I’m . . . I dunno. I guess I’m trying something new.’

There wasn’t an encompassing word for what Eyas felt then. Tightness. Warmth. Pain. Clarity. She thought of the top of the cylinder, of one particular sunken crater she’d refilled with bamboo chips some tendays before now. She thought of the canisters that had rattled in her cart some tendays after then. She thought of dirt, dark and shapeless, and of sprouts, tender and new.

Why now? Sunny had asked of her profession, right before giving her the answer she’d always had: Because you love it, and because it’s our way, and that’s reason enough. There wasn’t maths or logic or any ironclad measure of efficiency to back it up. There didn’t need to be. If trying something new was valid, then keeping something old was, too. No, this wasn’t the same Fleet as that of their ancestors. Yes, things had changed, and would keep changing. Life meant death, always. But by the same token, death meant life. So long as people kept choosing this life, Eyas planned to be there – for as long as she could – guiding them through both sides of the equation.

Eyas looked Anna in the eye. She smiled, and said what she should’ve said the first time she’d heard a grounder speak those words. ‘Welcome. Whatever questions you have, we’re happy to help.’

Kip, One Standard Later

Ever since he’d arrived on Kaathet, Kip had encountered so many things he’d never seen before that the phrase ‘I’ve never seen anything like this’ had almost stopped feeling like something worth pointing out. Nothing was like what he knew, not the food, not the crowds, and definitely not the school, which was the complete opposite of school back home in that everything was fun and interesting (and that was a whole new problem, because it was all so good, he didn’t know what concentration to pick). To say ‘I’ve never seen anything like this’ was the same as saying ‘I got up today’.

That said: he’d never seen anything like the Osskerit Museum, one of the biggest repositories of Arkanic artefacts in the GC. The inside of the building was decorated to look like one of their long-gone grand temples – or, at least, somebody’s best guess as to how they looked. It was hard to say anything hard and fast about a sapient species that had gone extinct long before any of the ones around today had woken up. Still, if their buildings looked anything like the Osskerit, the Arkani had been damn impressive. Everything inside and out was harsh angles and reflective surfaces, a sharp, stabbing fractal of shimmering light. The visual effect felt violent, almost, and was nowhere Kip would want to live. He was wowed all the same.

‘Hey, come look at this!’ Tuumuu said. The Laru’s body was facing a display, but her limb-like neck was stretched back around her foreleg so she could face the others. Kip was still getting used to that. He was also still getting used to having whole conversations in Klip all day every day, which he was getting better at. He wore a translation hud to fill in the gaps.

The rest of the group came over to Tuumuu’s side, and Kip left the fossils he’d been looking at to drift their way. They were inseparable, the five of them, all first-year students, all interstellar transfers, all taking Introduction to Historical Galactic Civilisations. They were each from somewhere else, and even though the homegrown students at the Kaathet Rakas school were friendly (mostly), somehow it felt natural for the outsiders to stick together. Even if they were total weirdos.