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Beyond the Wall by Justin Stanchfield From two hundred kilometers out the Wall seemed an impossibility, the scale too large to comprehend. Jenine Toole checked her descent rate against the radar, her own senses unreliable as she guided the lander downward. Outcrops of pitted stone vied with undulating lines of drifted, tarry snow until the surface seemed zebra-striped in the wan light. As the craft dropped lower she saw its shadows racing beneath them. Twin shadows, one diffuse, cast by Saturn’s milky glow, the other sharper but faint, the sun a mere point in the carbon haze. She had landed on Titan before, and each time the oddness of the landscape threatened to overwhelm her. Small wonder, she thought, that whoever had built the Wall had chosen this moon to build it on. “Four-Eight November, do you still have the intruder on screen?” The clipped, male voice over the com-circuits startled her. Normally, she made a drop like this in silence. No sense letting the pothunters know they were being followed. Frowning, she thumbed the transmit switch. “That’s affirm, Control.” “Four-Eight November,” the voice repeated. “Do you still have the target on |
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