The Hand of Glory was a disreputable, backwater station in solar orbit somewhere between Neptune and Uranus. It was built in that fanciful period of space exploration when engineers had abandoned the utilitarian designs of previous stations in favor of something more baroque.

As its name implied, the station resembled a giant’s hand, with docking facilities in each fingertip, and the central habitation hub floating like a pearl in its upraised palm.

As my ship began an intercept orbit, I readied my blaster and checked my supplies. Hands of Glory were lights in the dark, but not without their dangers.

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