The last thing you remember is the may-day alarm of your space ship blaring automatically in your helmet. After suffering a surprise system failure, as the sole person aboard, you jumped into the pilot's seat, trying to handle a simultaneous engine failure, hull pressure disruption, electronics failing and...
Auto-pilot must have taken over.
You woke up on Lovasi 5. Where and what you ask? You try to ask, but the women here -- strangely tall: twice your stature -- just smile and pat your head. The next thing you know you've just been told you're adopted, shooed into the vehicle of your new step-mom, after which she takes you to her home while shushing all your little questions, dear.
"Welcome! To your new home!" She says, leading you into the foyer with a twirl and a smile that could open a circus.
The house is enormous, or it feels that way. It's made for someone her size evidently, as all the women here seem to be, but at least she seems nice, right?