The Distant Blade
Chapter One "Survey Site 7: Unstable. Do Not Proceed." The ink on the notice was still wet, bleeding into the coarse paper of the maintenance airlock, and Fyodor Volkov stared at the words as if they were a verdict of death rather than a bureaucratic warning. He was thirty-four, a senior archivist whose oxygen subscription was three days from expiration, and the sound of a blade striking stone...
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