Ben Mckenna

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She gave them two hours of her time, in fact, sitting up on a chill little rooftop terrace looking out over the wine-dark waves—literally, given the deep red of the local plankton-level life. Pink-marbled icebergs drifted in the light of the declining sun, and they were able to watch teams of little boats tack and skim.
Eyes of the Void (The Final Architecture, #2)
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