The Pale Protocol
"You will need to sign the discharge form before the light fails, Ayesha. The desalination intake is clogged again, and the water ration is being cut." I looked up from the ledger. The ink was still wet, a black smear against the yellowed paper. Outside, the sirocco had been blowing for three days, turning the air into a physical weight that pressed against the polytunnel glare of our habitat’s...
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