The Faded Shield
The rusted valve wheel, cold and slick with condensation, was the only thing Thomas Vane could hold onto as the deck pitched beneath him, a jagged tooth of iron grinding against the black, churning sea. He was nineteen, a stoker with hands cracked and bleeding from the coal dust, and he wanted nothing more than to prove he was not the weak link that Chief Engineer Halloway so often implied. The...
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