The Cold Metal
Earl Madsen checked the oxygen recycler. It was making that noise again—the one that sounded like a cat trying to cough up a hairball. He'd been meaning to fix it for three cycles. He'd been meaning to fix a lot of things for three cycles. The Ship didn't care. The Ship kept running. That was its job. Earl's job was to make sure it kept running. Same job for twenty-seven years. He ate his...
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