Some men fall from grace. Gaelin Starks, however, crashed right through the floor. To Dregs, of all places.

He'd been a Guild Peacemaker, once. But he lost his badge, his family, even his home, to a few bad decisions. Now he works as muscle for one of the planet's more wretched crime lords. Even at rock bottom, Gaelin still believes in honor and protecting the innocent. But in those low circles, being a man of integrity just means absorbing more lumps than he dishes out.

A mysterious figure from his past appears out of the shadows. The Peacemaker Guild that once cast him down now needs his help. But help with what?

Stars are simply vanishing from the edge of the galaxy. No supernovas. No neutron stars or black holes. Just blank stretches of nothing. The Guild needs someone to take a derelict warship, strip it down to a flying gas can, and jump into the deep black to find out what's happening and why.

Gaelin assembles a crew of misfits: a neurotic engineer, hyperactive mechanics, and a trigger-happy alien cowboy are a good start. But things rarely go as planned. And out in the blackest of blacks, there is no backup.

Outgunned, stranded, and running out of time, Gaelin must forge his misfits into humanity's first line of defense.

The galaxy doesn't need a hero. It needs someone too stubborn to die.