“It’s a generation ship, see. Titan-class, like the one that founded Aeon Prime. Only this one never made it to where it was going. It got stuck in a wide orbit of an uncharted black hole, and the radiation killed everybody onboard. The computer’s still active, see, and the ship is still working, and it’s still babying its crew of dead husks like they was alive.”

“Your point?”

“All we’d need is some decent third-gen radiation shielding and someone who knows the Titan-class! Then we could reset its course, see, slap an aftermarket FTL drive on it, and sell the whole thing off for scrap someplace that don’t ask no questions.”

“You keep saying ‘we’ as if you’d be coming along, as if I’d trust a shyster like you on a mission like that.”

“Well, see, that’s the thing, Shabani. I’ve got it all nice and tidy, ready to just drop a crew in and go. I’m either part of that crew, or you buy me out from the start as a finder’s fee. Unless you fancy adding yourself and your crew to that list of babied stiffs, so blasted by rads that you fuse into your suits. It’s your choice.”

  • Like what you see? Purchase a print or ebook version!