Rafian At The Edge 50 -

He called himself a "salvage ecologist." Others called him a grave-robber. The truth, as always, lay somewhere in the frozen permafrost between.

His breath caught.

By the time he sealed the Edge 50’s airlock, the storm was a white shriek against the hull. He laid the woman on the medical bay cot and watched as Juno’s auto-docs began their quiet work. rafian at the edge 50

It was a woman. Young—maybe twenty-five. Her face was bloodied, her eyes closed. A tattoo of the Earth’s orbital rings curled around her left temple. Military. Definitely military. But her uniform bore no insignia, no rank. He called himself a "salvage ecologist

He was tired of running.