From the introduction: stripping the bones of derelict starships on the outskirts of the lost republic is how you scrape together a living. your grandparents took pride in these ships as symbols of their nation. you have always been too hungry to feel emotions as complex as pride. there was a time, perhaps your grandparents’ time, when no one had to go hungry, when the subspace gates did not charge a toll, when no one would call you outskirt slum-scum, when rice and warmth and medicine were free. it is no longer that time.