The Pale Fracture
The calibration log lay on the steel table, its paper brittle and yellowed at the edges. Elias Thorne smoothed the crease with a thumb that had begun to tremble, a fine vibration that traveled up his wrist and settled in his jaw. He signed the bottom of the page, the ink blotting slightly in the cold air of the high-altitude observatory, and then he looked up at the Mirror Array. It was a...
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