The glass罩 was not a shelter. It was a cage.
I first saw it from the air—a perfect sphere of transparent material, no larger than a dinner plate, resting in the blackened rock of a dead world. The hydrogen balloon had carried me farther than any Englishwoman should have gone. Three months of storm and silence, and then this: a planet of ice and obsidian, a sky the color of a bruise, and the glass sphere glowing faintly, as if something...
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