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... dead rock floating in a void. But as he dragged himself out of Nomad's cracked cockpit, gasping through his helmet's filters, he realized Sterling had changed that.

The air, thin as it was, carried a scent. Metallic. Sweet. Rotten. Like flowers dying in a machine shop.

"Move, move!" Vanessa grabbed his arm, hauling him clear just as something whistled overhead.

CRACK.

The ground where he'd been standing exploded. Moon dust and chunks of corrupted metal sprayed ev ...

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