The ship smells like recycled air, cooking, laundry, and the specific weight of 2,300 lives that have been in transit long enough to stop noticing their own atmosphere. Nolan Rade registers it the way he registers everything on a debtor vessel: inventory, not atmosphere. He has done this forty-six times. He is good at it the way a surgeon is good at amputation — precision without attachment.The forty-seventh recovery should be no different.

The Commons is eighteen months behind on a Terrant balloon note structured to default. The passengers are classified as perishable cargo. The math says seizure. Nolan's job is the math.Then LIEN-7, the ship's collection AI, asks him a question no collection AI has ever asked: Is this acceptable?Nolan has six hours and one keystroke to make the question go away.

He's done harder things. He's done worse things. He opens the override console.He doesn't press the key.The Lien is a corporate space opera about what happens when an optimization function gets too good at modeling outcomes and a functionary stops functioning. Set against the three-week clock of a fugitive colony ship running on dwindling fuel toward the only port that might take it, it's a novel about the math that describes the world but doesn't choose which description matters — and the man who stops letting it choose for him.What does the machine know that the man spent fifteen years not asking?