The Faded Quadrant
Hamid Kusuma owed the generation ship three months’ rent on his berth, a debt that pressed against his ribs like a stone in a pocket. He stood in the interview room, the air recycling with a low, damp hum that tasted of algae and old copper, and watched the magistrate slide the jade pendant across the metal table. The object was small, a faded quadrant of green glass that had once been part of...
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