The Distant Clue
Thorne, get in here. The voice cut through the damp air of the outpost, sharp and final. Elias Thorne straightened his back, the movement a habit of twenty years’ service, and walked toward the office where the light was thin and gray. He was forty-two, and his knees ached in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. He wanted his pension. He wanted the truth of the last engagement to be...
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