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Administrative Tower


Invictus had filed for departure.

Station had not yet released them.

This was not entirely Station’s fault. Invictus’s dock was so crowded that to have allowed an undocking would surely have seen someone killed.

“Thirteen,” Anthora murmured from her perch on the arm of Ren Zel’s chair.

“How many more?” he asked, watching as panicked boarders squeezed aboard.

“One,” Anthora said, and, as if she had conjured them, here came a figure running for the ramp as if all the demons of cold space were on their heels.

“There,” Anthora said, with some satisfaction.

The figure fled up the ramp as the hatch began to close, and squeezed through.

“You may let them go now, Beloved,” Anthora said.

Ren Zel sighed.

“Station, please clear Invictus for immediate departure.”


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Framed