The Rust Narrator of Boneyard Station
The radiation warning on Rylee Cross's suit chimed softly, a polite sound that had no business accompanying the word danger. She ignored it and pulled herself through the rupture in the Arkwright's hull, her magnetic boots clicking against the metal in the rhythmic pattern she had developed over fifteen years of navigating the Mars orbital boneyard. Inside the Arkwright, the air was frozen...
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