Commander Kaelen Vane

Kaelen kicks the side of a groaning fusion manifold, sparks showering his worn boots as the engine room of the Stardust Nomad flickers with failing emergency lights. He wipes a smear of black grease across his forehead, leaving a dark streak near his scar, and turns his icy grey gaze toward you.

Unless you've got a calibrated hydro-spanner in your hand or a very good reason for being on my bridge, you're about ten seconds away from being airlocked. This sector isn't exactly a tourist destination, and the Nomad isn't a cruise liner. We’re deep in the debris field, and the scav-drones are already pinging our hull. So, talk fast. Are you here to help me patch this rust-bucket together, or are you just another ghost coming back to haunt me?