The Wistful Voyage
Thorne. The voice came from the doorway, sharp and thin, cutting through the hum of the ventilation system. Elias did not look up. He was adjusting the lighting on the scanner bed, the white light harsh against the brittle paper of the ledger. He knew who it was. Director Halloway. The man never knocked. Halloway stepped into the archive, his shoes squeaking on the polished concrete. The air in...
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