Sam felt like a smuggler as he directed the floating pallet across the old suspension bridges through the dead zone.

Oversized loads always had to use the old paths, he reminded himself. They didn’t fit in the shuttles. This was totally legitimate.

Totally legitimate.

He had work orders and invoices for materials he’d honestly purchased. Sort of.

The work orders were fudged a bit, since he wasn’t supposed to be using these materials for permanent structures, and the purchase had been made with a weird barter system rather than ship credits, but it was still legit enough to pass muster with whoever guarded the gate into the main part of the ship. He hoped.

It didn’t help that he was moving the materials with a borrowed levitating pallet in the dead...

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