Quiet, lanky man in old worn out hand me downs.
Strabo is a silent, prematurely aged man known only as “Henry” to the crew of the Agro Ship Quiet Meadow. This was the name provided to him by the crew as he never speaks, never interacts with the rest of the crew or the survivors. No one on board the Quiet Meadow knows anything about him. His only interaction with the crew or the passengers was on the day he silently raised his hand when the crew asked for volunteers to clean the septic reservoirs of the overcrowded vessel to provide critically needed nitrates and fertilizers to help feed the masses of refugees in the Canceron ships that fled the planetary bombardment.
Long, lonely days in the hellish conditions of the reservoirs are his lot now, and it is a lot he accepts silently. Given the shortage of water for such luxuries as bathing on board all the vessels he was eventually moved from the general population and now sleeps on a cot in an secluded alcove under main hydroponics. Crewmembers talk of times they hear whispering from the alcove, barely audible over the steady hum of the hydroponics machinery. Of peering around the corner to see sad, seemingly broken man kneeling in prayer, a battered book clutched in his filthy hands, and one partially ripped postcard of Pommos taped on the wall above his cot.
They silently shake their heads and mutter about poor Henry, and them move on, there is always so much to do and so little to do it with. One more broken man in a fleet of shattered souls is hardly an oddity, and he works for his keep, so they leave him to his bitter existence. And the days pass in the silent alcove in an old ship in the depths of the darkness for a man no ones knows, and seemingly a man who wishes it that way.