The Faded Quadrant
"Entry 402: Oxygen subscription, monthly. Balance due." The notice was stamped in red ink, the quarantine mark a heavy, jagged circle that pressed into the paper like a bruise. Himari Hayashi stood in the intake clog of the desalination plant, the meltwater rising around his ankles, cold and gritty with silt, while the High Steward, a man named Tanaka, looked down at him from the catwalk above....
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