The Distant Threshold
Who was lying to him? The question hung in the air of the command office, sharp and metallic, before Rashid Rahal could form a thought to answer it. He stood before the desk of Major K, a man whose uniform pressed against a stomach that had grown soft in the climate-controlled comfort of the base, while the static in Rashid’s head began its low, grinding hum. It was not a sound so much as a...
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