The Golden Quest
You wake in the cold, blue half-light of the watch room, the smell of stale coffee and wet wool clinging to your lungs, and the first thing you know is that the floor is moving, not with an earthquake, but with the heavy, rhythmic lurch of a ship that has forgotten the sea. You are lying on the bare concrete, your cheek pressed against the rough grain, and you feel the vibration of the...
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