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... cockpit, each number hammering down like a countdown to judgment day.
I tensed, gripping the controls like my life depended on it—because it did. The probability of an ambush was low, but low didn’t mean zero. If our enemies had somehow surrounded our exit point beforehand, we’d be stepping into a perfectly laid trap.
"Leaving the white hole! Prepare for impact!"
A split second later, the ship’s visor shields peeled away like curtains, unveiling a stage. For a brief, bli ...
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