Flotsam and Jetsam

The old Slayn & Korpil executive shuttle had certainly seen better days. The blue of the old corporate paintjob had long ago faded or been scuffed away, and what had once been chrome trim seemed pitted and eaten away in some spots, as though it'd been left to the elements of a harsh environment. It maneuvered well enough, as the angle of approach to Jovan Station upon cracking out of hyperspace was a smooth transition. Nothing jittered of jolted, and the engines kept it on a steady course.

The lone pilot of the shuttle sat back and stared at the station growing ever larger in his viewport, and he couldn't help the slight frown that pulled at his lips. He once thought that he liked working in space, but after being with Nexcore, and being under the Velusian ocean for so many years, he'd come to enjoy subnautical existence so much more. He could go to the surface, spend time on his ship fishing, dive the reefs, and just generally exist in peace for a small bit before going back down to the rig and his job. It was a lovely life, and even Anita had once said she could see the draw of living like he did. Marichel didn't care, and after she'd left, she had sworn to him that she'd never come back. Which was fine with him. He always liked the solitary life, he'd found, so it worked out quite nicely.

With a sigh, the gangly red-head reached out to flip his comm switch.

"Jovan Station, this is shuttle Meg, clearance code 4L0-D0N, inbound from Velusia. Requesting permission to dock."