"It's incredible, when the conditions are right," he murmurs, in quiet acknowledgement of Dr. Pierce's tone. "Sounds like you got as close as you could get to seeing a ship's view, without leaving your planet. And without the claustrophobia too," he adds, in a weak stab at a joke. "The light pollution isn't bad here, but if the constellations aren't what you're used to..."

That makes it worse, sometimes. A spectacular view is still an alien view; all it does is drive the homesickness deeper.

Gaeta sighs. "I wanted to be. That was the plan: Fleet Academy, four years of service give or take, earn a free ride to the best university on Leonis, internship at Picon Laboratories afterward if I got lucky..." A small, bitter huff. He rubs a hand down his face. "I had it all charted out. Then, three years into my service, the attacks happened and -- "

He stops.

Starts again, more cautious, as if he were breaking bad news as gently as possible: "I don't know how many other people you've met that, ah. Come from a place that doesn't exist anymore. But I'm one of them. All twelve planets of my civilization were wiped out."