The Drift of Silence
The interior of 'The Icarus' was a symphony of dying machinery. The lights flickered in a rhythmic, heartbeat-like cadence, casting long, shivering shadows across the corridors of the deep-space vessel. Captain Sarah sat in the command chair, her skin the color of parchment, her eyes reflecting the cold glow of the emergency monitors. She was the last. The others had gone—some to the void...
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