
Is somebody
Seven histories. A space pirate sails with 650 credits and a name somebody recognises. A freighter captain has 3,200 and knows what a berth is worth to a frightened family.

A refugee ship. A 65-year crossing. Nothing out here but people.
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Departure staging hall
She was not built for this. She is whatever could be converted to carry the people who had to leave.
The crossing takes 65 years. The ship cannot make the things that keep her alive. She can find them, trade for them or take them.
The refuge may be habitable. It may be a port that has to be argued with. It may be nothing at all.
There are no aliens, no monsters and no malevolent machine. Everyone aboard is trying to survive.
Aboard
A group forms when enough people share a need, and it stays after the need has passed. Nobody aboard waits to be asked.

Seven histories. A space pirate sails with 650 credits and a name somebody recognises. A freighter captain has 3,200 and knows what a berth is worth to a frightened family.

The broker sells what is lying there: stripped hulls, half-fitted hulls, ships whose owners ran out of route. One seed deals one market, the same for every captain on it.

Every berth bay is nine squares of deck that could have been a farm. An empty hull will sail if that is what was chosen.

Food, water, air, power, parts and propellant. A decision does not stop the days. They keep passing while it stands.

Raiders and uprisings are fought room by room, a turn at a time, against a turn clock, with whoever is on that deck.

Groups petition, warn, refuse work, seize stores and move on the ship. Command is an office. The ship outlives whoever holds it.
It ends when the ship fails, when her life runs out, when nobody aboard is left alive, or at the refuge.
Begin a voyageThere is no phone version.