I picked the hanger for a reason. Not because I was forced here by the other factions. I speak my words by cargo and ship parts. Where Ozone bleeds out from jumpships returning back "home".
I'm able to hear the buzz of the stars from this location. They keep repeating the same words to me. That it's time to return home. Our true homes, not a place that is guarded by the shell of a broken god. But instead of stars and planets far outside this solar system.
I'm fully aware of what the others call me, 'Nutjob' and 'Delusional'. Even at the Consensus meetings doesn't seem to stop the whispers.
Even from their perch above my station, I can feel the eyes of Future War Cult glare at me with puzzled looks and skepticism.
But I know what is right. There is no way we are able to survive much longer within these conditions of the City. Earth is a lost cause.
The stars are calling us home.