The Distant Wound
Chapter One Bernadette DeClouet’s left hand shook as she lifted the silver platter, the metal cold against her scarred palm. The banquet hall smelled of roasted goat and damp wool, the air thick with the heat of two hundred bodies pressed into the colony mess. She was thirty-two, a sergeant in the heat-refuge corps, and she needed the captain’s promotion to pay for her mother’s oxygen. The...
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