IC: A quiet moment aboard the ship.

Jolan quickly made his way back to the ship, sealing the airlock with a relived sigh. He had barely spent time off the ship, just long enough to gather supplies and price check while the sky was still dark. A small shiver runs up his spine as he shies his eyes away from the singular piece of hull still for repairs and quickly heads to his bunk to seek the solace of darkness and cool metal beneath his hands.

In the past 48 hours his life had been shaken and were it not for his space-legs he may have had far worse of an outburst than a simple punch to Yardley. His long-dead sister comes back into his life, the man whom took her for whatever reason is his Nav-Com, his boss is an alien robot and the ship councilor is a mutant. Jolan wished he could shake his unsettled feelings towards the Captain but he couldn't get over the fact all this was going on aboard without his knowledge. If he had been an ivosch aboard a Fleet ship...

No, he wasn't aboard a Fleet ship and he had to get used to that idea. Maybe that was his big issue, he wasn't home. This ship was beautiful no doubt, a dream come true to any young Vosch who had ambitions of becoming a Fleet mechanic. The crew was full of stories and he knew that in the years to come he would spend so much time laughing, crying and loving with them all fiercely. His sister was just as beautiful as he remembered, and she looked so much like his mother. Adventure was on the horizon and in his mind he knew he made a good choice.

But still.

There was no singing as the ship launched, nor were the sounds of laughter and life echoing from the halls. The lack of pitter-patter of small children was like a void in his heart, the missing sounds of the cook chasing tonight's dinner around the mess hall made his breath catch. There was no sense of history or family for him, no paintings or fabrics from a cousin's mothers uncles wife. Stories weren't being told over the glow of a fuel cell, and there was no silent dancing through the zero-g fields. Everything that made Jolan feel at home was not here, no matter how hard he tried to fill it and put it there himself. No one would give a friendly touch or comforting hug, no one would fight with him when angry or cry with him when upset. Even his sister, the vain hope he clung to that she would be just like any other Vosch, couldn't stand his touch to be awoken by or didn't want to spend personal time with him to learn and just be near each other.

Jolan stared up at the soft red fabric draped above his bun to help him feel more enclosed. On this busy planet, with billions of travelers in and out, and crammed into an old ship with minimal personal space at best...he had never felt more alone.