The Pale Banner
The server room hummed. A low, constant drone. It vibrated in the teeth. Marcus felt it in his marrow. He sat in the blue glow. The screens blinked. Red. Red. Red. "Status," said Elena. Her voice was thin. Cold. "Containment failing," Marcus said. He did not look up. His hands moved across the keyboard. Fast. Precise. "Pressure at ninety percent. We have minutes." Elena stepped closer. She wore...
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