The Glass Engine of Albion
I. The sky above Leeds was the color of a week-old bruise, and Agnes Hart stood at the foot of Stack 47 listening to it breathe. It had been three months since the Royal Observatory's announcement—the approaching thing, whatever it was, was now visible through even the clearest telescope as a smudge where no smudge should be. The Prime Minister had authorized the Albion Propulsion Project...
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