The eerie quietness is a common companion for those aboard The Einsamkeit or, to those who have been on the vessel long enough or even those who know what it means to work in a cargo carrier, The Lonely. It’s like an inside joke; people think the “lucky” few who spend life in space are happy. What’s happy about spending your time visiting other worlds to only look at them from the hold or hangers. Others who know truth know they’re not important. They are the ants, the shifty bridge that connects people to their wants and desires.
“Captain?” A lanky man walked into the center of the ship’s small bridge, He placed his hand on the head of the captain’s chair. The one occupying it seems to pay no heed to his requesting subordinate.
“We’ll be arriving on Orion in a few hours,” the subordinate finished.
“Thank you, Rowall,” the captain spoke, still not looking away from the subject of his attention. “You know you don’t have to call me that, right?” The captain questioned, finally looking up.
“I know, but’s fun to call you captain,” Rowall grinned at his friend. “I’ll be working in the lab when we land if you need me.” The captain gave a grunt of confirmation. Rowall started to walk out of the bridge, then stopped at the door and turned his head back to his friend and captain.
“Get some rest, Oz. You look terrible.” There was no indication that the other was still listening.