"I take it all back—I'm going to Neomuna. Gonna upload myself into that CloudArk of theirs, maybe become some kind of computer virus."

Drifter rubs his temples. "Everything was simpler when I had a different crew every week, and we were all trying to kill each other."

His expression of grim severity doesn't survive under observation. "Hey. Let a man live."

Yet another container of food is pushed into your hands. "You take care of that, and I'll think about sticking around."