He starts some, as he heard the thumps and scrapings from the cargo bay. '<strong>Damn. Some of the cargo might be loose..</strong>' he thought, reaching down to power the engines back up, gently releasing his 'grip' on the ship, letting the floater drive resume its function.<br/><br/>He retrieved his gas pistol from the webbing strung on the back of his plot chair, he slid it into the holster on his belt. Putting on a jacket before exiting the cockpit, he inspected the rest of the ship as he went. The tiny cabin that was his home proper was the first. Then the galley, which was as small as the room. Next were the infirmary, then the small hatch that led to the floater drive room. Lastly, at the end of the narrow corridor, was the large hatch to the cargo bay.<br/><br/>He opened the door slowly, and peered out into the hold, inconsistencies in the floater field making the ship list from side to side slowly. It looked like most, if not all, of the cargo was loose. And judging by the splinters on the floor, one of the crates was damaged.<br/><br/>His 'sense', as he called it, began to ping. He frowned deeply. There was.. someone in there. And that meant only one thing. He had picked up a stowaway. But how? he thought. '<strong>I was in front of the cargo doors the entire time..</strong>' he thought, sliding the weapon out of its holster, then slowly stepping into the expansive room. He immediately noticed the damaged crate, though the damage did not seem to come from outside, but from the inside..<br/><br/>It then clicked into place. Whoever it was, had been brought in, along with the cargo. He pointed the gun at the large crate with the damage. "Who's in there!? Speak, or so Sages help me I'll throw you, crate and all, into the ocean!"<br/>