The Golden Harbor
Act I "You think you can hold the whole thing in your head, Gloria?" The question hung in the damp air of the sonar shack, a place that smelled of ozone and old rust. I adjusted the collar of my uniform, the fabric stiff with the cold that seeped through the hull plating. Outside, the crack of the lake ice rang out all night, a sound like breaking bones, but inside, the only noise was the low...
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