Craig... Craig just looked into the eyes of death and survived the accusatory implement that would have tore a hole in his chest. Craig has stared down a microreactor mid meltdown, ripped apart the circuitry of a rampant auto-barber but never in his years had he felt such mortal fear. 

The suited man quickly left him to himself in the streets, the adrenaline rush that made him deaf to the world was starting to dissipate making him notice that his original track had disappeared into the ship. Out of his daze he decided he might as well board the ship. He presented his pass to the nearby attendant and was instructed make his way to the engineering and cargo bay to help with pre-flight preparations. 

While disappointed he wouldn't get the opportunity to trail his target any further he shambled towards the lower decks. The engineers seemed to have their own quarters in the lower bays but had to head up to the mess hall for their meals. 

In time he was tasked with inspecting the cargo, making sure it was tied down and stored properly, and most importantly to make sure the bay doors were operating correctly. 

The room was quite dark and musty, the few streaks of light coming from scarce windows and cracks in the walls. Craig made his rounds checking the locking mechanisms in the hoists and the gears of the bay doors. It was generally tedious and meticulous work, but Craig was content.

That is... until he heard a horrifying sound. A grotesque sound that echoed throughout the room: mew. 

Craig's eyes went wide, It was soft, barely louder than the distant bustle of the ship but years in the Forge had trained him remain alert for any out of place mechanically. Yet, he had no former knowledge of ships creating this sound, had the hydraulics jammed? Had a circuit board smoldered? Had a steam-pipe leaked?

Craig visibly exhaled, for the sake of his new home he had to find the problem and fix it.

The sound seemed near, if it weren't for his meticulous, nay, obsessive inspection, it would never had been noticed. He turned the corner where he expected to find the fault, but what he saw was to be expected: piles and piles of crates and cargo. Loose bolts of canvas for the inner lining of the ship's envelope swayed a bit as the vessel rocked gently in the breeze. Craig chalked it up to his nerves and was prepared to leave, when he heard a distinct but recognized sound, a soft purr. 

Of course, a small opening in the floor boards allowed air in, billowing the canvas bolts. Simple enough to fix, some quick drying tar, a chemical found in any self-respecting ship engineer's kit, will seal it back up.

Craig moved to uncover the bolts, but something else caught his attention...