They were not a deregger escapee, but out on the edge, had suffered almost as much as one, at least psychological abuse. It was hard for them to stand up for themselves, and they wept often. But when it came to helping others? That is where they showed they still had some backbone left. -- The New Guy
Many Deregger escapees are broken birds. Shy to say the least of it. Soft-spoken, frequently terrified of breaking the rules. Even the rules they have in their heads. Fossil phantoms of their past terrors, care of fascist despots whose only care was profit. Even when they left those lawmakers behind, the laws haunted them.
In such a mental landscape, it's easy to want to vanish. Deregger escapees are wont to blend with the wallpaper. They keep their heads down, work hard, and try not to make a fuss or be a bother.
Alliance systems of support often have trouble with Deregger expatriates. Starting with accepting Alliance company, and including worrying about how to pay for gratis services. But the trick was, get Dereggers to help Dereggers.
The breakthrough for this strategy was Survivor Deen. Another quiet soul with desperate shadows under hir eyes. Softly spoken and, like most of hir sort, patiently waiting for things to get desperate before ze sought help. Terrified of the resulting bill. Eternally shocked that there wasn't one.
There was a great need of therapy, and a great reluctance to seek it.
At least until a freighter arrived with an extra component of Dereggers from a different, yet similar polity. Five of them. Younger, thinner, and possibly even more terrified than Survivor Deen.
Deen's job was basic maintenance in the Quarantine area of Layover Station. It was there that the Security monitors picked up hir essential service to hir fellow survivors.
"This isn't a prison," Deen cooed to the youngest one. "They have to keep you all here for now, just to make sure everyone's going to be healthy. It's for everyone's safety. You remember the factories? The offices?"
Squeaked, "...yeah?"
"I was in a factory. I remember how coughs and colds and stuff went through the whole place all the time. The only way to really stop that is to keep everyone apart so sickness doesn't rip through all of you."
"I been in here for three days and I ain't done work. How bad is my debt?"
"Breathe, kid. The air is free. It's all right. This place is crawling with bleeding hearts. They're gonna give you so much free stuff. And they're not even going to charge you for it."
"For reals? It's true?"
"True as sweat," said Deen. "It's no rip-off. You can even ask the machines in there to make you things. For free."
"Horseshit," said the kid.
"Try it. I dare you."
For the first time, the kid in quarantine got up without the automated exercise program telling them to. They went to the printer cubby and knocked on it. Nervously said, "I want a teddy bear."
There was a yawp of shock as the machine printed the requested soft toy. A burst of activity as the kid collided with the safety partition. "Hey guys! Guess what?"
They were the first. Deen became an informal counsellor for Deregger escapees. Ze knew their language, and sometimes had to translate for the Alliance therapists who wanted to help them.
All it took was a willingness to not be insulted by some of the language.
[Photo by Sandy Millar on Unsplash]
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