The Wistful Saga
The oxygen subscription for Anca Karapetyan was due on the first of the month, a deduction that left him with twelve credits and a growing hunger. He sat in the reclamation yard, the air heavy with rust and dried reeds, watching the sun bleed out over the Rift. His hands, stained with grease and old blood, moved over the airlock seal, a task that required a patience he was losing by the day....
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