“Here? Where is here?”

The technition shrugs as you look around. The lab is unusual. Most of the closest walls and equipment are plasti-steel but an area beyond looks to be rough hewn rock. The strange sense of vertigo common with artificial gravity fields impinges upon your senses, along with the myriad subtle and blatant differences in your new body. The so man’s pallor. The smell of recycled air, sweat and stale heavy metal extraction agents. “This is an asteroid mine...” you guess.

“Correct. A decommissioned mine to be precise - converted to an unmanned ancible repeater station,” she said. “We sit like a spider on the galactic communications network, picking up stray bits of information and intercepting interesting stacks...”

“But... well if I’m found I’ll be erased...” you mutter. You’re an illegal copy.

“Yes. We beleive the precariousness of your situation will make you cooperative. There is still a great deal of mining activity in the area and this station provides a useful and lucrative service. You see the miners have needs...”