Bluestar

[Nova]

The Possum breathed. Its presence was everywhere, but almost rarely felt at this point. Its dull, thrumming engine-heartbeat, the condensation of its atmospherics pipeline, even the settling of its welded plates. It was manned by nothing but a skeleton crew, and a rudimentary autopiloting system. Its human-inspired design meant that it almost resembled a foundry more than a privately owned ship, with its vein-like cables visible through grating and underfoot maintenance crawlspaces beyond claustrophobic for the average species. There was nothing to disturb its meandering while the pilots were asleep. Only the heat signature of its engines signaled its presence in the great dark between worlds.

While transponders were expected in civilized space, even rookie scavengers knew better than to broadcast beyond. Whether guided by superstition or experience, it simply was not done. Only the occasional satellite, distantly pulsing with music and news broke up the Possum's body-sounds.

Nova stretched his body out. The human-spliced Kharguin easily resting like a king in what would be to most variants of his species be cramped quarters. Letting out a whine, his legs stretched off the ledge of the bed proper, mildly scampering against the air. It wasn't long before the bottom-heavy Nova pulled himself off of the shared-quarters bed. Blinking one confused eye at a time, the pink-furred femme struggled to make amends with even getting up. Paws against the cold, bare-metal floor made him wince, but he slid out regardless.

The lack of alarms was a good thing so far. Uncharted space was always risky.

[Delta]

The Possum
LOCATION: Fringe Space
DATE: Unknown
Delta

Somewhere deep in the humming guts of The Possum, Delta was staring at a readout of the diagnostics of the primary drive engine. He had woken two hours earlier, unable to sleep. That was the usual theme for Delta most nights. Sleep meant loss of control, anything could happen while you were asleep. It was however, noticeably effecting even the most simple of tasks--like reading.

The human-centric design of the ship meant for Delta, who was considerably tall even by Kharguin standards, had to squat to get eye-level with the monitor. Tired eyes scanned the readouts once, then again, then once more for good measure. Four more days... At best, he summarized. He had been putting the off the repairs for too long, and now the bill was coming due. From somewhere else inside of the ship, he heard the gentle scampering of paws on metal and a soft whine. Delta's smaller co-pilot must have woken up. An involuntary grunt escaped Delta as he pulled himself to his full height, and maneuvered the cramped passageways back to the sleeping quarters. With a paw resting against the upper doorway, Delta stuck his head in, if only to check that Nova was actually awake; not just thrashing in his sleep as he sometimes did.

[Nova]

"Guh."

By the time that Delta peeked his head in, Nova was out of bed. But it was clear just by looking at him, that his mind was still snugly wrapped up in the bed. With a particularly slow tongue-smack, Nova barely understood what he was seeing, with Delta looming from the corridor. Arctic-blues squinted at the far-larger Kharguin. Trying to make sense out of the shadowy shapes.

"Is it planetfall yet?"

He rubbed at his eyes, trying to shake it off. Failing horribly, of course.

Nova's side of the crew quarters look like some mishmash of technical digests or projects, and fringe band merchandise. Even in space, he didn't really bother wearing his bodysuit. It was sprawled on the communal ground next to the bed. The pink-furred femme, unconsciously, makes an 'uppies' gesture with his hands mid-stretch.

The Possum shuddered, very lightly, as the engine cycled. The lights dimmed for a few minutes, and hummed. Human engineering was notoriously slipshod, but one couldn't deny its longevity. Nearby displays noted saved frequencies coming into range. Likely satellites, unmanned, playing music on some ill-defined wavelength. Out this deep, instrumentals were preferred. It was a superstition, that speech attracted bad luck.