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Sophie
Everybody knew thebest vacay spots depending on the time of year – Navaret 12 to celebrate the end of their dry season, when the planet’s yawning salt flats turned into mineral pools for soaking. Exdrok to celebrate Almonrok – the death of their religion’s goat demon, where feasts and alcoholic beverages tinted red to look like blood were enjoyed well into the wee morning hours. But when it came to Earth winter solstice celebrations, there’s nowhere anybody would have rather been than Elora Station.
Earth-run, aka human-run, the place became an absolute shrine to human revelry and saccharine commercial goodness during Old-Earth’s winter months. Ancient winter traditions from the Northern Hemisphere of Old-Earth thrived there: Hanukkah, Yalda, Dong Zhi. But, being an entertainment and commerce station that was originally founded by the Old-Earth US Faction of the Terratribe Alliance, Elora Station was dominated by one winter holiday in particular: Christmas.
Every year (by Old-Earth year standards), humans and aliens alike descended on Elora Station to work, shop, and play. And this year, I was going to be among them.
I’d never actually been to Elora Station before. Never even been off of Terratribe 1, one of the oldest human colony planets. But, when a girl finds out her new boyfriend is cheating on her and gets laid off in the same week, something’s got to give. Luckily, Elora Station was always looking for seasonal employees for the winter rush, and I managed to snag myself a job in a coffee shop on board.
So that’s how I ended up there, shivering in the Elora Station decontamination room after getting hosed down with all manner of disinfectants.
“Once the light chamber is finished decontaminating your personal items, you can dry off and get dressed,” a bored-sounding human voice directed me through an intercom nearby, making me jump.
“Holy Terra,” I muttered, rubbing at my arms, looking around the plain white room. At one end of the room was a large, open cube that I’d had to put my suitcase into after I’d opened it. I watched as the cube blasted my stuff with some kind of blue beam of light, giving whatever Terratribe nasties I’d brought with me a good ass-whooping. Why couldn’t they use the blue light on me, too, instead of hosing me down like a damn shuttle in the cleaning bay?
Squeezing excess liquid from my black hair, bedraggled now with the wetness, I hopped from foot to foot, wiggling to keep warm as the blue light finally finished doing its thing. A second later, a conveyor belt within the cube came to life, jerking my stuff out of the cube and out onto the floor of the room. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a smooth ride, and my stuff exploded all over the floor: a catastrophe of fluttering fabrics and a clatter of small bottles of toiletries. I sighed, gritting my teeth as a sad, thin-looking towel followed on the conveyor belt, almost like a crappy little flag of apology for upending my suitcase.
Taking a deep breath, I knelt, my bare knees feeling tender against the hard floor, and started shoving all my stuff back in the suitcase. I’d tried to pack everything nicely, but now it was a jumbled mess. Oh well. I guessed it didn’t matter if things stayed tidy and wrinkle-free in there right now. What mattered was getting dressed and getting the hell out of this room.
A frisson of excitement ran through me as I thought about what was to come. So far, all I’d seen of the station was the bay my shuttle had entered, then the long tunnel I had been jostled down along with the other travellers from my shuttle. We had all been pressed into individual rooms like this one and ordered, via intercom, to strip down for disinfecting procedures. So I hadn’t actually gotten to see any of the hustle and bustle of Elora Station yet. And, let me tell you, that hustle and bustle was legendary. My best friend, Maggie, and I had always tried to do something for the holidays back on Terratribe 1. But I’d never experienced the shining, glossy experience of Christmas on Elora Station. And frankly, I couldn’t fucking wait.
Smiling at that thought and ignoring my goosebumps and messed-up suitcase, I scrubbed the towel along my arms then down my legs. My first moments here may have been a tad bumpy, but that didn’t matter. I was going to work here until Christmas Eve, earn some great extra money and hopefully even some tips, then I’d be able to head home with a clear head and a fresh perspective. It was going to be the best Christmas ever. I was sure of it. I would make sure of it.
Freshly scrubbed, I wiggled into an outfit I grabbed basically at random from the top of my suitcase – a simple pair of black leggings, and a holo-top with cropped sleeves. While slipping into the clothes, I wondered if I should save the holo-top for another day. It was the nicest item of clothing I had – my only holo-clothing. It shifted in colour depending on the temperature of your body. Maggie had called it my titty mood ring whenever I’d wore it on Terratribe 1. Her nickname for it always made me roll my eyes, but honestly? I didn’t care. It was pretty, and it usually shifted between shades of pastel blue and deep green that accentuated the emerald flecks in my hazel eyes.
Finally, I pulled on my one pair of somewhat dressy indoor boots. The only other boots I owned were a big pair of sharpatti bear skin ones for winter. Coming from a cold life in New Toronto on Terratribe 1, lighter and dressier footwear wasn’t exactly practical. But I did have these little black ankle boots, made on Terratribe 2, that my dad had brought back from a work trip. And I’d saved them just for a moment like this.
As I slipped my little boots on, so unlike anything I wore at home in my old life, I felt like I was slipping into an entirely new skin. I stood, feeling taller than before, and not just because of the heels on the boots. I tossed my still very wet hair over my shoulder, doing my best to finger-comb it. Where the moisture from my hair cooled my holo-top, the fabric shifted a silvery blue. Further down my torso, where my skin warmed it, it was a much darker teal colour, bordering on green. The hem of the top hit just above my hip, met by the high waist of my black leggings.
I took a deep breath and smiled, squaring my shoulders. The door in front of me slid open, and I began to walk through it, feeling like a brand-spanking-new woman. I was here, I had made it, and nothing could stop me now.
Nothing, except the voice on the intercom echoing behind me, saying, “Ms. Allen, you have left behind your suitcase. Please clear the decontamination room of your belongings for the next guest.”
Shit.
Face hot, I scurried back into the room, snapped my suitcase shut, then yanked the handle up to roll it out into the station.
OK, OK, it’s fine. Second time’s the charm. Here we go.
And while I may not have felt quite as tall as I did before, as I stepped out of the room and into the miraculous bright lights and dizzying colours of Elora Station, well, I still felt pretty fucking good.
