I watch the blinking red dot slowly cross my screen. It's funny; I've been here for years alone, hoping for someone to join me, but now that it's here, I feel scared. Scared of what news they'll bring, what brought them here, even what they brought with them (Our systems are not exactly the best. One power surge and we're down for a long weekend). Still, only a week's time separates our meeting, and I need to get to work. The gardens have been tended, the water reservoirs are full, now it's time to complete the houses. Granted, calling them 'houses' is a stretch given our limited supplies, but the designs should be comfortable enough. A few of the thicker vines tied just right, plus a nice amount of "Puffbaby Plants" as I call them, have been a great mattress for me over the years, why not them?

I take a quick gulp of my whiskey (Shame, it's my last bottle...) and head out of the control room, down the shiny orange hallways of the station I know so well, and out the door to the environment beyond, once an alien terrain, now more familiar than my point of origin ever felt. Funny, to think when I first agreed to come here, I thought I'd die from inhaling a noxious gas or getting eaten, when in reality this place was the least of my worries. The agency said despite the dangers, everything had been prepped and approved for maximum safety. I'd be remembered as a hero, a trailblazer. I knew they were full of crap when I first heard the pitch, but I still had the pull. Something about those first pictures from the satellite, the strange aura I felt... like I was getting pulled in by a siren's song. The placeholder name - Adito, the greek word for Sanctuary- felt so fitting for such a tranquil place. I signed the dotted line in a heartbeat. I didn't consider my friends, my community, no one and nothing but this moment. I didn't even think about why they really chose me; I had been a low-level engineer building rocket parts for 4 years, skipped over by most promotions because of my 'blood', and had never met a single one of the higher-ups until the recruitment day. Perhaps that is another reason I feel so afraid of what the newcomers will tell me: There's a high chance that my mission was the catalyst.

I kick off my slippers at the foot of the base and walk along the swaying grass, shining a black-purple tone in the evening light. It grounds me when I feel the sharp points nipping on my soles, a good reminder of my connection to this place. I've become a part of this ecosystem, and I had to respect it to the best of my abilities. Even if there was a certain interloper making that difficult. Almost on schedule, a loud clang comes from the homebuilding site and I race over, as I've been doing for the last month. When I reach the site, I see two huts barely finished, and a pair of clawed, silver feet jutting out from a pile of wood next to a half-finished third.

"You tried building the roof by yourself again, didn't you?"

The silver being erupts from the wood pile with a howl and stares at me, his yellow eye and opaque eyelids clicking with disdain as he blinked rapidly.

"Oh, so it's still my fault," he growled, "not the fact you have been late helping me for the past two weeks?! We finished everything else without issues, but somehow the knockoff HGTV project is what has you stumped? Explain yourself, Phineas!"

He wasn't wrong. Every time my dear assistant Odin told me it was time to work on the huts, I dragged my feet. It just made their arrivals too real, too soon, but I knew I couldn't tell him. After all, we're being forced to live on his planet and figure out a way to survive, take over something we had no business to touch. He has no reason to show sympathy to us, yet the day we met three years ago, he calmed me, helped me build a way to survive, showed me how to hunt, even aided in cataloguing local plant and animal life. I always found it strange though; all this time, I've never seen another like him, nor has he mentioned a village or home of his own. He even spoke perfect English since day one. He's always here with me, right when I need him most. I realize I've been in my head a bit too long when Odin starts snapping his fingers.

"Well? What's wrong?"

"It's... It's nothing, Odin, I've just gotten lazy. Let's see if we can finish House Three, and maybe most of Four if we have time, and talk about what we'll do once they land. We've never really talked about how things will change."

"I beg to differ. You know where I stand with their arrival, as well as your original home."

"While I thank you for accepting us to this planet so openly, your plan of action is not plausible, nor agreeable. That ship is a one-way shuttle by design, remember?"

"Of course, but I believe we can find a way. After all, that base started out closer to a pile of rubble than its current, mansion-like state. I'm sure we could find a way to make retaliation a reality."

I pick up a hammer and few planks of wood and get to work, ignoring Odin's pleas. His input has always been important to me, with his opinions almost acting as a perfect opposition to my usual train of thought, but on this topic, he always knows how to go too far. I can't blame him though. In the beginning, we were furious all the time too, hoping for a time to get revenge, but over time things cooled. Whether it was because we simply wanted peace or we had finally been broken, I do not know, but one thing has remained constant: We were always the outcasts. Ever since news of an "offshoot of humanity" began to spread about a century and a half past, there were fears of replacement and reports of demons taking neighborhoods. Sure, a person with stripes and horns like an antelope and shiny, multi-colored eyes is a bit off-putting, but we were no different than them. We just wanted to live. Still, that seemed more and more difficult as time progressed. Governments couldn't exactly curtail us like a virus, and there would still be just enough outrage to make capturing us a political nightmare, so they found creative ways to keep us underfoot. This current situation is not even the most sickening I've seen in my lifetime.

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Over the next two hours, House Three is ready for two more newcomers. I'm tired and my hands are close to ripping, but I feel accomplished. I turn to Odin, and he's already preparing to start House Four. Always keeping me productive. As he begins to lay the rock base, he asks a question I would've never expected.

"Do you ever think your people failed?"

"How so?"

"Do you think they failed in surviving? Or, better still, overcoming their enemies?"

"The world was never our enemy, Odin. It was the fear. The anger that spawned in a heartbeat whenever people couldn't or wouldn't understand. We fought that wave every way we could, until there was nothing left in us. We never failed. As long as we breathe, we do not fail."

"Is that why my idea upsets you? It confirms their fears? Spurs more anger?"

I can only nod, tuning my focus to the pounding of my hammer. Odin growls in an apologetic manner and sighs.

"I am sorry. Your pain should not become a battlefield."

We work in silence until night completely overtakes us and my hammer blends into my hand. I step back from the house and assess our work; about 75% complete, an hour tomorrow should be enough to finish the job. I walk back to base, and somehow Odin beats me inside, smiling as he leans on the hallway wall. I could never understand how he was able to pop up behind doors I was sure I locked. Still, I couldn't help but to admit it was amusing.

"How many are on the ship?"

"Given the projected size of the craft, maybe 15. No way to figure out ages or demographics but expect most to be young."

"Why would they put the weight of such a lengthy voyage on children?"

I dodge the question, turning back to our housing dilemma.

"If we work at a similar pace as today, we can have all the houses built 2 to 3 days before arrival. Once we're ready, we might not have much of a break. We'll need to prepare for more groups."

"How are you so sure? There's no way to know anything until the shuttle lands."

"That's not entirely true..."

Odin acts like I've spoken another language, staring at me until I elaborate. I know there's no way around it, so I relent.

"When they first sent me here, there were files hidden in the code. I managed to pry a few open, and they detailed plans for expansion of the project; more ships, bigger teams, self-sustainability, everything in place once funding came through. I thought it was for factories or farming, but when the engines on my ship were remotely terminated, I figured out that wasn't the case."

"Why have you never told me of this?! We could have prepared for these people ages ago!"

"I-I couldn't admit it to myself until I saw the first ship. It's selfish, I know, but I thought maybe... maybe they'd change their mind, or new people would take over the company and terminate the project by force, or-"

"Phineas."

Odin's tone is rough yet calming. It lets me know I need to gather myself before I continue, so I sit and look at the stars. Strangely, one of them is blinking. It takes me a few minutes to realize it's the shuttle, finally in clear view. It's official. It's finally happening, for better or worse. Odin seems to spot it too, and he takes a deep breath and squats beside me.

"We'll get through this, you know that. At least they'll all be safe here."

"We don't know that. They have the location of the planet, satellites to track us, and absolutely nothing stopping them from following us. We could be surrounded before we even have a chance to find out we're being ambushed."

"But you won't let that happen! You've been preparing for this in your own way since you landed; with you as their leader - or at the very least, advisor - they will be protected."

"I can't guarantee-"

"THERE ARE NO GUARANTEES! What matters is you live, Phineas. Live to keep fighting, building, something. Put this misplaced shame to bed and get up, because whoever or whatever is on that shuttle is going to need you. Do not back down."

I can barely look him in the eyes. I just sit there, tied into a ball, rocking and shivering. Odin lifts my head and places his forehead on mine.

"Odin."

"Yes?"

"Why do you care so much? You know nothing of us, our struggle. You took me in without question, and you continue to do so with an unknowable number of my kin joining me. Why?"

"Because you deserve kindness, all of you. You never asked for this, so why make you suffer more? You understand how to ensure this planet's safety more than any researcher. I have hope that you can give that and many more gifts to future generations."

"Thank you, Odin. I promise I'll make you proud."

"You've already done that. Now make your people proud. Remember your family is always with you."

That last sentence strikes me. I had never told Odin about my family; I hadn't had a horrid upbringing, but it just never came up. My parents were part of a circus, as was common for us back then, and we had a good life, but as the story always goes my parents wanted more. They brought me parts for my little gadgets, tolerated reading my elaborate blueprints I made with my imaginary little assistants, and showed me videos on how to build better and bigger machines. I probably wouldn't have become an engineer without those moments. My dad had died two years before my mission. Bacterial infection got him because the doctors claimed they 'didn't know how to treat him.' My mother followed with a broken heart two months later. Perhaps the loss pushed me to leave; finding my own personal 'Adito' to heal, away from the pain, suffering, arguing, had been my inner goal without realizing it. Now, I needed to give that to these people. They have the same fears I had, perhaps worse, and they deserved to feel safe again. Odin was right. Whatever shame I had, I would need to replace with something better, brighter. So we can work together to thrive. Even if they come for us, even if hell rains down all over again, we will be ready, and we will stand.

I open my eyes to hug Odin, but he is gone. I look around, expecting to find him in the corner holding the last bottle of whiskey, but I still see nothing. Through the halls, on the radar, there's not a blip. Gone, once again. Alone for just a little while to ponder. But it'd be fine; he'll be back soon to help me again, and next time, it will be with new family, and little children racing around the forest. It'd be with homes, and beloved pets to fill them. With culture, laughter, brightness, and pride. With all these things, we'd finally win. Someday.