Hook:     You’ve made a deal with the estate of a rich magnate to drop off the tangible inheritance to her only heir, a grandson who went out pioneering to a Rim moon in the back of beyond.  Six large chests of locked cargo.  Doesn’t matter there’s just about no trade to Symphony, you got plenty of credits to get there and out, paid in advance, all shiny.

Problem: Oh, sure, you brought some cargo for trade, just on the offchance: they say a fine silver-blue fur’s trapped thereabouts.  The moon’s in the back of beyond alright; no ship’s traded there in seven months.  That wouldn’t trouble the natives none, but six and a half months ago, the atmospheric plant blew and blew badly, well beyond the ability of the pioneers to repair.  This sure as hell didn’t start out an Earth-normal atmo, and it’s fast reverting to a fun old methane type.

Complications: This is a full bore enviromental disaster, no error, the pure quill.  Livestock and people are already dying, the population’s retreated into the valley where the landing town is, and they figure they have weeks left, tops.  A whole lot of people’d love passage out on your ship, wouldn’t they just?  The moon’s population’s about eleven hundred folks left; good luck with that triage, now.  Now they’re a right mannerly folk, but people faced with death do things they wouldn’t ordinarily, and commandeering your ship’s among them.  No local Cortex beacon, of course, so there's no way to communicate with the outside 'Verse except by ship.

(Your heir won’t be among them, belike.  He lived up there on Wolter Mountain, see, that there peak over river.  His fifteen year old pregnant widow’s in town, he made her go.  Dead, he must be.)

Resolutions: Either fix the atmo plant - and we’re talking top of the line high tech, with parts that are just not to hand (how good are your engineers?) - or sail away with whomever you can.  If you’ve got something the size of a Firefly and you pack it to the deckheads, you can maybe get a hundred and fifty people off.  Which ones?  Even there it’ll be bare survival to the nearest interstellar truck stop.  Find out what happened to the heir, if you have the chance ... the lawyers might want to know.

Fun Stuff: Not very.  Every party’s got a grim ep from time to time, and this is it.

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