Warmth was always the first sensation when he awoke. That touch of the sun to his skin served as the most gentle, tangibly nurturing alarm clock in the universe. In the depths of winter he did use a clock if necessary, just to remind him of the time. It was a Terran thing. True, he didn’t need to sleep as such—but letting himself relax was no bad thing for his psyche. It was the feeling of home from his farm boy childhood. The feeling went beyond the wistful imitation to a human limitation he would never have. Somehow those early years had imprinted on his mind a sense of peace and energy in the simple act of waking to the sunrise.

And now, he was home. There were other yellow stars out there, of course. Even through that journey and the stasis he’d used simply to avoid the boredom, he had sensed the light of stars on his skin. No yellow sun had a touch like his Sol.

His. Possessive? Yes. He knew others who had that passion for their territories. But it was his Sol, his Terra.

It was home. It was his.