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... of the voice calling me "brother." A single person stood there, wearing a standard spacesuit—the cheapest kind, in dark gray—and rubbing his hands together expectantly.

"It's been a while, brother!" he called out again, a grin flitting across his lips. "I hope you've been doing well!"

Black, oily, shoulder-length hair. A face smeared with grease and grime. Yellowed teeth having a permanent argument with each other about personal space. One glance was all it took to confirm my gut ...

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