The alpha sun had only just begun to peek over the horizon of L'Hazif. Its little brother beta was sure to follow, but for now, the early morning remained cool but heavily misty, fog swirling over the waters. Port Celeste waited for no one, however, and the bustling of ships docking and unloading could be heard beginning with the clamor of bells clanging, people shouting, and the heavy thuds of cargo unloading. The smells of breakfast drifted across the air, signaled by the plumes of smoke spouting out of spindly chimneys.

Raven loved it.

He could watch through the window the port town's sights and sounds for hours, but he had to tear himself away. Raven took a moment to peer in the mirror beside his rented room's bed and judge himself.

A male black tsabhua of supposed Mireh and L'Hazif blood, the bull had been surrendered to the DPIP as a whelp as part of their exchange program for colonists. Now a young adult, he sought to become part of a colony, raised by a DPIP affiliate colony specializing in fosters for a brighter future. That was what he'd been told, anyways.

Upon reaching maturity the memo regarding his transfer occurred within the week, assigning him to a researcher to become part of the founding members of the colony. The researcher had named the colony an unfamiliar term on the paperwork Raven had been allowed to review, and he occasionally rolled it over his tongue attempting to pronounce what he thought it should sound like. Vitae.

A DPIP associate had informed him it meant "life" in a long dead language from the planet Earth, the birthhome of humans. But oddly enough, the researcher's species wasn't listed as human. It was a minuscule detail, but some inkling of it lingered in the back of Raven's mind.

It didn't dim the excitement though.

Raven's standard issue travel bag had been packed and repacked to the most efficient peak he could possibly make it, equipment and tools with rations meant to sustain a founder's group until a colony base was instated and further supplies arrived. The researcher would be given much the same bag, only with more appropriate scientific tools, if he recalled correctly from his DPIP immigration classes. 

A standard issue translator had been given to him as well, a relatively newer model that had been refurbished. Most of them beyond the most obsolete and antiquated functioned much the same. The wireless transmitter was a small ovular pod of tech with an internal microphone to pick up speech from either party, with noise cancellation to filter out undesired sound. A speaker was also inside for when Raven needed to talk in a researcher's language. An implant in the ear hole of a resident after a noninvasive surgery would serve as the receiver relaying the translated speech. This was crucial for Xiunus natives, who lacked anatomy to speak many off planet languages without significant difficulty or adaptation. Cross planet sign language was actively in development, but lacked standardization.

Most of what he had to attend to business wise had been handled already by the DPIP, but some negligible paperwork still had to be filled and sent once the researcher arrived to confirm they'd handle creating a colony properly, no zone violations or destruction of endangered fauna, etc. Otherwise, he'd been assigned to wait for the researcher to arrive to port, and await he would.

It was a long time before lunch, where the open air food stalls with seating beckoned invitingly with colorful banners and the crackling of frying food. Still, Raven mused, it wouldn't hurt to take part in the complimentary breakfast before then. He'd heard of a human invention called "pancakes" that the inn's cook mentioned trying to recreate when Raven ate dinner last night. It sounded wonderful, and not too far off from the pan fried insect flour patties his offplanet fosters made as tasty snacks, but sweet instead of savory.

Turning, he tidied his bed, smoothing the covers and folding blankets before picking up his hygiene products from the bathroom. No sense in leaving a mess.

And with that, he ventured downstairs to ask the cook about those pancakes.