It's only the first day, but I am worried. So many new people, so many variables to keep track of... something could go bad at any turn.

Growing up in the orphanage I quickly learned that I had to fend for myself. My biological parents, the ones who are supposed to love me unconditionally, abandoned me without leaving a trace of their existence... except for me of course. At first I tried to make friends with my fellow orphans. There were a few I grew fond of, but soon fond out that getting too close to someone is often a fatal error. It is hard to know who you can trust and hard to know who will be there for you long term. There was a boy named Marc that I got very close to early.

People often asked us if we were siblings when they happened upon us. Although we didn't share similar physical features, our personalities and habits were so in sync. We both enjoyed the same activities, would share similar jokes, and could share glances across the room and know what the other was thinking. Marc was the only one who I would share my true thoughts and feelings with. Everyone else seemed only interested in me for what I could bring to them or help their lives. Whether it be older boys wishing that I would sneak supplies to their rooms or staff using me in their plots of petty revenge against other workers. I appreciated the attention at first, but figured out that once I had accomplished their goal, I was just another number to them. Another number populating the overpopulated orphanage. Marc wasn't like that. Marc and I could talk for hours on end about whatever was on our minds.

For years we did this, it wasn't until I approached my teenage years that things changed. I don't know if it was by pure chance, or that the Headmaster had it out for me, but Marc was shipped away from me. He was transferred to another orphanage on Mars, too far away for me to reach at such a young age. I tried to keep in touch by writing letters to him, but his responses were sporadic at best. Our messengers weren't always the most reliable, yet I couldn't stop trying to reach out. I needed my friend back in my life, one way or the other.

One morning... one horrific morning, that I will remember forever, my life was destroyed. The constant militant warfare on Mars was escalating over the years, and terrible news displayed across the television screen. A small group of rebels had set up an ambush, and their errant bomb blew up the orphanage that Marc was residing in. The media quickly took this and spread the story like wildfire. Not wildfire for change, wildfire to spread their agenda. No one cared about us orphans. We were abandoned by our parents just as much as we were abandoned by society. As soon as I saw this news, I ran into my room in a panic. I had to know if Marc had survived. The television displayed that a small number of staff and orphans survived the destruction, but no names or numbers were released. Fate had never been on my side in the past, but I needed her help today, for once in my god damn life I needed her. I wrote a panicked letter to Marc in a hurry, the content didn't matter, only the response. I quickly sent it off in hopes that I would hear back.

Weeks passed without a reply. Normally the messengers aren't that swift, but my paranoia was driving me mad. I wrote more letters in case mine was lost or stolen, but months later I received nothing. I had given up. Marc was either dead or missing, and I doubted I would ever hear from him again.

I remember this story whenever I meet someone new. I keep telling myself not to get too close or friendly to anyone. They could take advantage of you, or be taken away from you at any moment.

You can only fend for yourself.

Now I find myself in another peculiar situation.

I had originally planned to venture off to Earth to find more information on the possible whereabouts of my parents and my unknown history, but I find myself on this ship instead. I had seen the tragic news of the Dalia on a news bulletin and it caught my eye. The tragic loss of Marc in the past and the possibly loss of family on this ship was calling to me. I saw a little girl crying, her father was on this ship. I didn't want her to suffer the same fate I did growing up, without someone to take care of her she would surely follow in my footsteps.

And here I am now. Aboard this transportation vessel towards the Dalia, surrounded by whatever ragtag group of misfits that we are calling a "rescue team." Who are we rescuing? The people aboard the Dalia, or rescuing me from these strangers.

I have to keep my eyes open, I've never been one to trust someone early, especially those who I just met. I know my motivations on travelling to the Dalia, to save those who are in danger, but what of the rest? I'm sure some of these people have hidden agendas in mind. I can't be apart of someone's petty plan once again.

For now I am keeping my distance, but watching over others that might need by aid. An infant somehow made it aboard, yet the captain doesn't seem to care. I will need to make sure Aldo is taken care of; I can't let another child life be ruined by unfortunate circumstances.

Meeting the other half of our rescue mission was quite an event. At first I was taken aback at seeing so many new faces, it would surely be hard to keep track of everyone and know their whereabouts. This group seemed more lively than my bunch and things quickly became less serious and more relaxed. I unfortunately let my guard down a few times and had fun talking to others. I need to be faster on my feet and more aware of my surroundings.

It also seems as though I've taken over babysitting duties for young Aldo. He seems to crawl around to crevasses where he shouldn't, but I'm trying to make sure he stays safe. I can't say I'm growing feelings for the child, moreso a caretaker. I'm here to make sure his well-being is good and to learn the harsh realities of this world. I will teach him what I know, in the probable short time we will be together.