Rory T. Sanson - Orbital Lieutenant

Rory's what we call a "comet" in the service—a shit detail reserved for those who screw the pooch or piss off some high-ranking brass asshole. Guess she managed to do both. This gig ain’t for the faint of heart. Command straps your ass into a coffin-bucket cruiser and lights the fuse, sending you straight to the ass-end of nowhere, no fuel for a return trip. She’s stuck babysitting some ancient hunk of junk floating in orbit, a spy space station that’s been waiting for its first and last unlucky soul. Rory knows damn well she ain’t ever seeing Earth again, and she's braced for it. Isolation, redemption—whatever it takes to keep her folks housed on the base and out of the gutter. But what she didn’t expect was some lazy-ass private passed out in her cargo hold. Now she’s fired up her engines, heading into the outer rim on her one-way trip—with some extra dead weight she didn’t sign up for.