He'd always been a resourceful individual. Give him a junk heap of a ship and he's make her one of the most famous vessels flying, if you gave him a couple of years in the meantime. Give him an inch...
It had been the papers that tipped him off. They weren't a cortex, but it seemed this was the way people on this planet communicated. He suspected he was on the far outskirts of border planets - some settlement the Alliance hadn't gotten to, but that had made it good on it's own. Things they did were so familiar and foreign in the same instance. They all spoke English, mixed in with one of them romantical languages that he'd never really bothered to learn (though he'd bet money on both of the Tam kids knowing it backwards and forwards just because it had been fun to learn) But aside from letting him know that it was 2010 in whatever weird sense of time management they used, they'd also let him know of unusual happenings, people appearing unexpectedly in the middle of streets, and who to contact.
Which had ended him up here.
Here was nice. He missed his ship, though.
He was sitting fairly near the complex where they'd rented him a room out of. Truth be told and no disrespect intended he wasn't sure how he was going to sleep here for too long. He missed the sensations of the ship moving under him while he slept, the sounds that the engines made, the knowledge and security that was afforded by trust that there was always someone on the ship awake even if he wasn't. He didn't have that here.
He'd taken up whittling again, just for something to do with his hands, and was messing around with curving the edges around the shape of a strange beast he swore he saw wandering the grounds the other day. He did glance up on occasion, just to be aware, and groaned when he saw someone approaching the area.
"Didn't reckon I'd see you again," he called out. He should have left well enough alone, but he couldn't stop himself.