Ensign Simon Phillips, Navigator
The ship was so loud.
Not in a way anyone else would notice, except maybe Nick Lane. The cost of serving aboard the Bell was an almost-constant low-grade migraine, a price Simon paid willingly. Dr. Stanton provided meds to manage the pain, but Simon preferred not to take them unless the ship was in a situation where his complete focus was critical. He carried a relief hypo with him, relying on meditation most of the time.
Sometimes the discipline eluded him. So many thoughts bombarded him from all directions, whispering at the edge of his consciousness. He couldn't discern the specifics unless he actively concentrated; he constantly had to assure his crewmates that he wasn't reading their minds. But he could still "hear" all of them except his fellow Cortexiphan subjects, blessed oases of quiet. And oddly, Rec Chief Sam Weiss. He was one of those occasional humans completely immune to psychic phenomena.
Even with the whispers, the ship was still better than Earth. Not as quiet as Vulcan, of course, but despite the very generous invitation from the kolinahr masters Simon had decided not to stay. He'd missed his own kind, noisy as they were. And when Olivia Dunham won her ship, Simon couldn't resist the call. None of the Cortexiphan subjects who opted for a career in Starfleet could have.
The opportunity to serve, to demonstrate the usefulness of his abilities and his life, made any pain worth enduring.