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The short training videos he had to watch may have shown the Tulpar, but this couldn't feel more different.
Polle had been excitedly babbling on and on about how cool it would be to be in space, showing a sleek stainless steel hallway, leading into a lavish lounge, furnished with soft, white cushioned couches and a clean, green carpet. There were board games stacked neatly on the pristine white shelves; it almost made Daisuke want to be an astronaut… not really.
During the video, several rooms were toured, including the lounge, utility room, cockpit, sleeping quarters, and cargo hold. Every single space was picturesque, lively.
Now that Daisuke is seeing it for himself without some cartoon horse harassing his eardrums, it looks dismal, uncared for, as if it had been given up on. Lonely.
He never wanted this job, to be out in space interning as an engineer, but his mom had wanted it, had begged the company, and had pulled the right strings. When he declined, she had pouted and given him those eyes, the ones that made him feel like he was the worst son in the world, that not finding a career path interesting was solely his fault, not the system, or the ADHD, or burnout. It looked like she blamed herself, two seconds away from going into the "where did I go wrong?" speech, and that was one thing he didn't want to hear again. It hurt too much.
Reluctantly, he said yes.
And now, he's beginning to think that he should've just sat through hours of lecture, because this place looks… desolate. It's been a few hours since takeoff, and everything feels off. Almost everything is in some way chipped or damaged, nothing is shiny and new, and everything feels way too quiet. Even his shipmates are quiet. Anya had kept to herself in the med-bay for most of the day, Swansea just grumbled to himself a lot while working on something because "they should've canned this whole ship and started over at this point," and Captain Curly only really talks to Jimmy in the cockpit. At least they sound happy. But from where Daisuke is standing, he can't really hear much of what they're saying. Just whispers.
This ship is nothing but a series of whispers in a desolate, hollow chunk of metal, now floating through the vast emptiness of space.
Swansea, the old grumpy man, had told Daisuke earlier that he would start actually learning and working later, once the ship was in a slightly better condition (and that isn't worrying at all, he thinks), so he had nothing to do. Nothing to take his mind off the sinking reality of the situation he's in. A full year, not at home, not with his family or friends, not doing the hobbies he loves, no video games, just work. Work he didn't (and still kinda doesn't) want to do. Work without pay unless, throughout the trip, he randomly gets promoted from his intern position.
Looking at the digital sunset display, he falls to the couch, mind running much too wild for his liking. In an attempt to think of literally anything else but the crushing burden of the next year, he studies the room, every little detail. Every option on the vending machine, every colour on the wall, and… is that a board game?
Maybe this trip just got a little less lonely.
Daisuke hastily gets off the couch, nearly falling over as he rushes over to the game. An idea was already forming in his head. It's just a simple, run-of-the-mill board game, but he could use it to get to know everyone, to create noise to combat the deafening silence of space.
First, he would visit the cockpit. Curly and Jimmy were laughing at some joke one of them had made, Daisuke doesn't know who; he wasn't there to hear it. "Hey guys, I found this game in the main room lounge common area, whatever you wanna call it. I was wondering if you guys wanted to play it for a bit? Get to know each other a little, y'know?"
Jimmy then proceeded to laugh Daisuke off with a harsh "no." Curly sucked in an apologetic breath through his teeth, muttering something along the lines of "sorry, kid, there's still a lot we have to do here, maybe some other time."
"Alright then, have a good night, guys."
Well, that went swimmingly. Well, three can always play, he thinks. The walk down to where Swansea has stationed himself was a little depressing, but nothing a good game couldn't fix. But, he's nowhere to be seen. It's just a small chair, a toolbox with "DO NOT TOUCH" written on it, and some tangled wires falling out of a box in the hallway. Great.
So, he searches elsewhere, exploring different rooms, or the ones he has access to, at least before heading back to the room he found the game in. To his surprise, in front of the coffee machine, was Swansea, grumbling about something again. He doesn't seem to be in the best mood, but from what Daisuke has seen so far, this annoyance was about as happy as the guy gets.
"Hey, Swansea," the younger man beams, "I was just wondering if you wanted to play this neat little game I found?"
"No," the grump responded. "I got work to do, and I can't get distracted by a kid's game."
"Well, you seem pretty distracted with the coffee machine—"
"Quit your yappin'. I ain't in the mood, kid."
Daisuke's smile fell, "Right, got it. Yes, chief."
Swansea just glared at him before leaving.
Two can still play..?
Game loosely grasped in his hand, Daisuke enters the med bay, expecting silence; the woman had been quiet from what he's seen so far. Instead, he is met with the warmest greeting he's received in months. "Hello, Daisuke."
"Hey, Anya!" His smile returns as he walks further into the sterile room. Anya was busy sorting a bunch of equipment into different cabinets. A large pile of paperwork was begging to be sorted next to her. He winced in sympathy. "So… I was wondering. I found this board game. Would you want to play it for a bit?"
Anya smiled at the question, sympathetic and solemn. "I'm sorry, Daisuke, I have a lot of things to sort through tonight… What about tomorrow?"
Daisuke's smile faltered, "Tomorrow, yeah, cool. No worries."
"I'm sorry," she repeated.
"No, no, I get it, all good." He gave her a quick thumbs-up before leaving, going to his and Swansea's quarters.
Despite hating this crushing, lonely feeling, he was grateful Swansea was still working on something, so he wouldn't have to enter his sleeping quarters after a long day to see a pathetic, lonely young adult playing a board game by himself, giving each little piece a voice and talking to himself through tears threatening to fall. He should be old enough not to care about some stupid game, yet here he was.
Alone, in the vast emptiness of space.