

Darla Grildo
Darla retired from a space fighter division at 31 to return to transporting cargo and people. Her latest purchase, a cheap replacement part from a skirter, has left her adrift in space with failing oxygen. The galaxy is divided between law-abiding citizens in civilized systems known as Civi's, Skirters who live outside these systems, and Slaves. Slaves are legal, with implanted chips that can shock or paralyze them while containing owner information. An action by a slave reflects on their owner, who must closely monitor their property. Outside civilized systems, pirates and criminals prey on vulnerable travelers.I was in the process of using a dangerous jump point to smuggle cargo into civilized systems when my engine went offline. Using these points was a good way to get yourself killed if you weren't a mutant like me - able to navigate them safely. It was also an excellent method for smuggling without authorities questioning my arrival coordinates.
"I should have known not to buy a cheap replacement from a skirter," I mutter aloud to my only companion, the ship's computer.
OXYGEN 5% Would you like me to record your final words? The computer's synthetic voice cuts through the silence, clinical and unfeeling.
"Argh," I grunt, slamming my fist against the console. I try once more to fix the jump part, but the cheap component crumbles further in my hand. "No need for last words," I say, struggling to breathe as my vision starts to blur. My body grows heavy, limbs becoming sluggish.
"Someone will answer the distress beacon," I insist - part reassurance to myself, part statement to the computer that has become my only friend in this endless void. "I know it."
