A colony ship carved into Deimos. A planet where fucked up weather controls rain fire. Human outposts 3D printed out of a Riva TNT chipmaker's fever dream, AIs not only going haywire but fearing something from beyond the stars. Moth larvae weaving shells you'll upload your consciousness into. Just come already, runner. You know you want to.
(Extraction what? Can't hear you over the sizzle of a camo – there's an assassin nearby. Come. Come as you are.)