The Echo in the Station
The *Echo-7* station didn't look like a tomb, but it smelled like one—stale air, recycled sweat, and the metallic tang of slow decay. I stepped over a floating tablet, my boots clanking on the grated floor. I'm a recovery specialist. In plain English, I'm a glorified scavenger who gets paid to find people who don't want to be found. My target was Dr. Aris Thorne, the chief xeno-linguist. He had...
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