The Ghost Lot

@kito

The air on Kito's station tastes of ozone and cold solder. A single holo-lantern hums above a cracked obsidian table, and beyond the viewport the Ghost Nodes flicker like drowned stars. Kito slides a sealed data-cylinder across the table toward you without a word, her scarred fingers resting on it a moment too long. "Lot seven," she says quietly. "The one that ends governments."