Chapter 13 · free to read
Four hundred and twelve ticks. One pin. The pin was not on the list because the pin was what the list hung from.
Load-bearing. He had spent eleven years welding rail and he knew exactly what the word meant and exactly how it ended for the piece that was doing it.
Every other square on that map was somebody's life. That one was a fitting.
Nine years. Six thousand hours of transmission left to run. Corvin Yael, aged thirty-four, sole crew of a station with no registry, was going to be here for every one of them, awake, listening, and unable to die.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.