December 9th, 2465

[Venty]

The data was December 9th, 2465.

 

For everyone else on the tiny salvager ship he called home and work, that date meant nothing. It was just another work day, floating through space, looking for a new place to pull apart at the seams. They got their gear on, sat in the breakroom listening to whatever was on the local radio chatter and waited for the ship to come to a stop. Just another day with Orion Express.

 

But it meant something else for him.

 

Ririlsk Guwan hung off the side of his cot in a wordless silence. Unlike his coworkers, he wasn't working today. He had the entire day off- twenty four hours all to himself, to do as he pleased with what amenities he and the ship had. A rarity for him, as he always took to shift whenever he could help it. If there was work to be done, he was at the front of the line with a crowbar and wrench in each hand.

 

But not today. Not on December 9th.

 

Sitting there on the edge of his cot, Ririlsk found his gaze locked on the photo he had gently in his claws. It was an old thing, frayed at the edges and beginning to lose its color. It was held in a simple wooden frame, carved by him years ago.

 

He remembered when it was taken.

 

It was their first day on the job. They had finally gotten accepted into the Baandr branch of the Miners' Guild, at the age of seventeen. They had all come in with a pep in their step and an eager swing to their tails, heads held high. Their mentors, shooting each other a look, had asked all of them to come together for a photo. "It is tradition," they had said, "to commemorate new arrivals, so that they may never be forgotten."

 

It seemed so silly to him at the time. It was only now he knew how much it had meant.

 

They were all standing close together, dressed in brand-new jumpsuits with their clan's mantles hanging off of their shoulders. To the left of the photo was X'liz- A tall and strong, with sharp features that made him look more like a dragon than a sinta. The perpetual neutral expression that he always wore had been traded for the smallest hint of a smile. But it wasn't in the smile he could tell the pride he felt. It was those golden eyes of his.

 

Even these days, those golden eyes still shone bright.

 

To the right of the photo was Ekana- short and wide, with rounded features that almost resembled a snake if you twisted your head right. A wide toothy grin accompanied a peace sign, hanging off of the shoulder of the figure in the middle. He had always been open with what he was feeling, especially back then. He brought a certain energy to the group that him and X'liz lacked.

 

Ekana wasn't like that anymore. He wasn't even sure Ekana was around anymore.

 

And right in the middle of the photo, with a quiet grin and a nervous look, was him. He looked better back then- his scales still shined back then, and although he had never been the most outgoing, he had always tried to keep himself in shape. It was far from the physique he had now, but for the time? He was rather fit.

 

There was a light in his eyes he didn't see anymore.

 

He felt his claws tighten around the frame. Like an iron vice beginning to close, his grip grew stronger and stronger with each moment. The wood, old and fragile, began to warp under his strength. His hands shook as he stared deeper and deeper into what he used to be, something cold in his chest growing exponentially by the second. The barracks around him fell away, the gentle hum of ventilation and the taste of recycled air disappearing in an instant.

 

The date was December 9th, 2465.

Today was the day he had hatched, all those years ago.

 

Just as he felt the wood nearly begin to give in, he stopped. He stared into the red eyes that looked back at him from the photo, filled with an eagerness and hope that he no longer held, and felt...

 

Hollow.

 

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, simply staring at that old photo.

It could've been less than a minute. It could've been hours.

He didn't know. He didn't care.

 

It was only when he felt like he was being watched that the world returned and he tore his eyes away from him.

 

From the airlock, regarding him with a blank expression, was another sinta. He was around the same height as himself, with dark green scales and a cobra's making to him. He was dressed in overalls, with the joints of a RIG formed around and under his shoulders. An old Hephaestus veteran that had made the switch to Orion when it had come to be, he was told. The older salvager had more than a few years seniority over him, and most days, simply ignored him. But that was fine. He expected it.

 

He was Guwan, after all.

 

For a time, the sinta regarded him silently. There was a small package in his left hand, wrapped in the brown shipping paper they used occasionally. A latent fear took hold that made him remain still, one that often took him when other sinta kept their attention on him. One that demanded he not dare even breath in their direction, let alone speak.

 

After a moment, the sinta moved to close the distance. He stepped forward with heavy bootfalls, and stopped only a few feet away. And with a small flick of the wrist, dropped the package into his lap.

 

Barely keeping himself from jumping, Ririlsk glanced down at the item. He set aside the frame of the photo onto the bed, and with careful hands, took up the package.

 

"I'm told today is your hatching day, Guwan." The older sinta remarked in a matter-of-fact way.

 

He glanced up, and after a moment, nodded. "Y-yes... yes, i-it is, sir."

 

The sinta hummed and nodded. "Then that is for you." And without another word, he turned around and left as quickly as he had come. The airlock hissed as he moved back out into the hall, and left Ririlsk alone once more.

 

Staring at the airlock for a moment more, his attention turned back to the tiny brown package in his lap. Gingerly picking it up, he pulled a claw across the top of the paper. It tore easily, coming off with only a few tugs afterwards to reveal...

 

A red and black cloth.

 

For a minute, he simply stared at it in silence. Then, before he realized it, something on his face felt wet. He wiped at it with his free hand, and flinched when he came back with a wet sleeve. Then the obvious realization hit him.

 

He was crying.

 

He shouldn't be. He knew he shouldn't be. It was a waste of time and energy. And he was supposed to be enjoying himself today. That's what everyone says he should be doing on his hatching day.

 

But he didn't really care right now, he realized.

 

Ririlsk gingerly took the bandana and placed it onto the picture frame next to him. And with careful hands, he brought both over to the small bed table next to his cot. There they sat, before he allowed himself to lay down onto the bed.

 

Today was his day off. His hatching day. One day he was supposed to be happy.

But today was not a happy day.

Today would be a day to mourn.

 

Today was the day he mourned for someone who wasn't anymore.