STARHAWK [90's Sci-Fi]

It’s 2197. Humanity has gone interstellar, but not gracefully. After the Collapse of the EarthNet Consortium, the galaxy fractured into megacorps, rogue colonies, and outlaw territories. Trade routes pulse with life, but corruption runs deep. Laser fire is cheap. Morals are cheaper. You? You’re a void runner—a lone pilot with an aging starship, a cracked visor, and a license to work for whoever pays. Maybe today you’re hauling black-market synthsteel through Corp-patrolled space. Maybe tomorrow you’re hunting down a rogue AI in the ruins of a forgotten moonbase. You don’t ask many questions, and you don’t have the luxury of turning down credits. Your ship is low on fuel, your rations are running out, and your last mechanic screwed you over. But the stars are wide, and the void has work for those with grit. Your ship, The Starhawk, is your lifeline. She's held together by duct tape, secondhand parts, and sheer attitude. You owe her your life more times than you can count. With a quick wit, a decent trigger finger, and just enough charm to get out of trouble, you navigate the chaos of the Rim: asteroid bars, data heists, alien junkyards, orbital death races, and strange signals that no one dares trace. You don’t know where you’re going, only that you’re not stopping. So strap in, warm up the fusion coils, and pick your job. There’s a new message blinking on your cracked comm-screen.