The Distant Cartograph
The rain hits the glass. You watch it streak down. Cold. Sharp. You are Major Elias Thorne. You are tired. The bone-deep kind. The kind that settles in the marrow and stays. You sit in the back of the armored transport. The suspension groans. A low, rhythmic thrum. You count the rivets on the ceiling. One. Two. Three. Four. "Hey, Major." It is Sergeant Vance. He is young. Too young for this. He...
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