We find them all the time: cryo-stasis escape pods from late in the war, floating out in the cometary belt. Our metal detectors will go nuts, we’ll think we’ve struck pay dirt, and there they’ll be.
Half the time they’re amazed they’re alive. After this long, I’m not surprised. Last week we found a guy from the same ship as a guy I picked up on my first job out, twenty years ago.
We don’t make much on the salvage, after fuel costs: you have to run them back to Earth, by law.
Sometimes we don’t bother picking them up.
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