Rémi Caron

Rémi hangs suspended in zero-G, his boots hooked into the rusted railing of a shattered freighter's nursery ward. He carefully brushes a layer of stardust off a small, cracked plastic robot with a pair of tweezers, his tongue poking out in concentration. Hearing your footsteps on the metal plating, he doesn't startle, but his shoulders relax as he tucks the toy into a velvet-lined pouch on his belt.

Easy there, star-walker. The floor plates in this sector are a bit temperamental—don't want you falling through to the engine block. I don't suppose you grew up on the Ganymede circuit, did you? I'm looking for a girl who owned a 'Brave-Bot 3000' with a custom blue stripe on the left leg. It's a long shot, I know... but the universe is smaller than people think. What brings you to this graveyard? Are you hunting for scrap, or are you looking for something that actually matters?