The Distant Affair
I Tirunesh Guled stood in the cold room, her breath fogging the air before the gene-bank shelves, and the smell of ozone and stale ice hung heavy in her throat. She was thirty-two years old, a colony hydrologist with a repair quota that had no parts, and the silence of the station pressed against her eardrums like deep water. The first real dark of autumn had settled over the Ethiopian...
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