Five soldier-caste donor-parents. Nineteen perfect clone warrior-siblings. And her: a defect. A xenobiologist.
On Kelmer-5, she relishes the constant mist whiting out everything five meters past her nose. Her war-bred kin call the posting a waste. She calls it paradise.
Today the pod refuses to play. Today the gentle brawn herd her toward her idle armored exo-skeleton. Brawn do not spook. The sea knows why. She suits up to find out.
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