The cargo hold was whirring with the sound of engines. Crates are stacked atop one another, as is appropriate. One tumbled and fell, spilling open as it hit the ground with a dense thud. A person flops out, rolling a little, like a corpse might. 

The person is male, and frighteningly lanky. He wears worn but old boots, baggy and coarsely woven pants, and something which at one point may have been called a vest. His face is the most interesting, though. On it he wears a helmet of sorts. It resembles a head, split with a smile; only it's the type of smile you might expect a bag of worms and rotten meat to wear. The eyes are comparable to empty patches of space, and the hair pools on the floor in ragged clumps. 

He gingerly brings himself to his feet. He casts a despairing gaze across the room. Other than boxes, there was a few doorways, some cameras, an airlocked cargo ramp, and an office space. He walks over to the office space, passing by the ramp as he does so.

[color=crimson]"Yeah. Someday, not today. Sorry."[/color] His raspy voice filled the cargo hold, though he was only talking to the ramp controls.

The office space was about as exciting as you can expect it to be: Plenty of details concerning the intricacies of cargo delivery, orders placed by far-off companies, quantities of stock on board, and a monitor displaying the current value of various minerals. But it was in the corner by the door where he found exactly what he was looking for. He switched the small device on, and began searching through the crates.

After long enough he had found the crate he stowed his gear in. Through the wonders of technology the crate was delivered through a section of wall that slid aside. At the press of a button the crate popped open, and emitted a vague hissing sound. Inside were his trade tools. A bag containing several ship overdrive modules, some personal modules, and food and drink; A large utilitarian custom rifle; A comm unit; and a small metal cylinder. He plugged a few personal modules in, slipped his arms in the bag straps, and slung his rifle.

[color=crimson]"Well, I guess it's time I thanked whatever helped this ship to fly."[/color], and with that he set off to try find some life aboard. That or a ship to get out of here.