Humanity reached the stars.
The quarterly targets followed.

You handle the occupational hazards.

Across the United World Order—and a few sectors beyond its jurisdiction—rival syndicates fight over mineral claims, trade routes, and whatever someone else already pulled out of a rock. The sponsors bankroll the ships and collect their cut. The pilots handle the occupational hazards.

They call those pilots rock jockeys: overconfident, under-supervised, and convinced the next haul will make them rich enough to stop.

Nobody ever seems to stop.