Spoiler (click to show/hide):
Space was a cruel environment to grow up around. Bulkheads separate you from a quick and untimely death and those metal walls were often pummeled by grit and debris floating through the vast emptiness. Radiation from nearby stars would test the shielding on a weekly basis and the slightest weakness could end with the deaths of dozens. Humans are resourceful though and in your twenty five years upon Sigma-23 not once did the shielding fail or the armor break before it was reinforced. Such stations were expensive though and once the ore from the nearby planets tanked in value, funding was slowly siphoned away until finally the demolition notice was given for your home. Already most of the residents and workers had made their way off site to various other colonies, most of them land based since the age of expensive space homes was closing as far as anyone could tell. Though strangely enough several suits had arrived recently to your soon to be dismantled home, claiming to be from Weyland-Yutani the owners of the station. They were supposedly here to check that the valuable scrap left behind isn't lifted and will be remaining on board until the very last day of the demolition to make sure things are handled properly. The fancy private carrier they came in on was docked with the station and was far too large for the three people that had come aboard. Still, you were left here to see the work was done and would be taking a provided transit shuttle when it arrived in three weeks time once the work was finished. For now you lay in your bed, still having trouble believing this was happening as you waited for the minutes to tick by and your work day to commence. Today you were going to be checking on the air recycling system and preparing it for surviving a vacuum until the cargo haulers would come to pick it up a few days after the station was pulled to pieces.
