The Golden Circuit
Chapter One Dolores Macías scrubbed the grime from the orbital debris spotter’s lens, her knuckles white against the cold metal, while the feast raged three decks below in the palace kitchen. The rain hammered the hull, a physical weight that made the whole station groan, a sound like the bay of stranded whales echoing through the colonias of Mexico City outside the glass. She was forty-two, a...
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