The Rusting Haven was the last station before the long dark — a corroded throat through which everything from the deep frontier had to pass before it could pretend to be civilization. Cargo, gold-diggers, exotic diseases, lies stamped with government seals.
And, on one particular morning, Helen Stance.
She came out of cryogenic suspension naked, furious, and carrying a survey package. Valuable enough to make major corporations wet themselves through three solid layers of corporate ethics, and dangerous enough to require immediate containment.
She intended to sell it, get paid, and raise one elegant middle finger to the universe and all its contributions — from a safe orbital distance.
She thought she was running a smuggler's con. She had no idea she was part of a greater plan.
Welcome to the Rusting Haven. The way out is a matter of negotiation.
