Commander Elena Voss had not slept in seventy-two hours, and she was beginning to understand why the ancient astronauts might have gone mad.
Station Seven existed in a state of perpetual twilight. Its single habitable module hung in orbit around a gas giant the size of a hundred Earths, a swirling marble of amber and violet cloud bands that filled the observation window like a cosmic eye. Elena's job was simple: monitor deep-space signals, log anomalies, maintain the automated systems. She was the sole occupied crew member. The rest...
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