Another memory surfaced, like a bubble rising from the disturbed depths of a swamp: Hans and Ibn firing guns wildly at something far larger than human scale, something that scuttled and clattered through a vast space full of metal struts. That couldn’t be real. It had to be a nightmare.

But in cryosleep, you didn’t dream. Which meant it was either a terrible imagining… or a memory.

She shook her head. “Wait. Trans-Neptunian space? You mean, near Pluto and the other icy dwarfs? In Earth’s solar system? We should be light years away from here!”

“That is true. We’re all very curious about how you ended up here.”

“Who are you people?”

“You’re aboard the White Raven, a fast freighter owned by Captain Kalea Machedo, with a crew of five. Well, six, if you count me. Or possibly five again, if you consider Drake and Janice as– you know what, never mind. You don’t need a litany of names right now. You’ll meet everyone soon.”

“This isn’t a rescue vessel?”

“We rescue people when we have the opportunity, of course. In space, people take care of each other, because you never know when you might be lost and adrift. Sometimes we carry freight. Our cargo capacity isn’t huge, but we’re fast and nimble, and there’s a market for speed.”

“A market. I haven’t awakened in a post-scarcity paradise, then.”

“Alas, no. Though basic needs are met more easily, and more widely, than they were in your time. There are a lot more people, though. Fortunately we have lots of room.”

“You said you sometimes carry freight. What else do you do?”

“The odd bit of scavenging. It’s amazing what you can find floating around unattended. We also have a security contract with Meditreme Station… a place that came well after your time. It’s a major settlement in Trans-Neptunian space, built into a planitesimal, an icy dwarf just a tiny bit smaller than Pluto. At least originally. Now it’s covered in so much accumulated construction, it’s a lot bigger. A city in space, basically, home to fifty thousand souls and a lot of passing trade. Our security contract means we transport people who cause too much trouble on Meditreme elsewhere in the solar system, and occasionally we chase after the odd thief or murderer or smuggler or pirate. We were on our way back from a run to Europa when we noticed your ship and thought it might be a piece of scrap worth picking up.”

“So… what happens to me now?”