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Nineteen-year-old Lars Thorne has spent half his life in the grease-stained orbital yards of Pallas Staging Station, cutting apart rust-bucket tugs while the real ships sail past the edge of the belt. His hands are scarred, his coveralls soaked in machine oil, and he knows the language of pistons, flanges, and oxy-arc torches better than any academy graduate. But Lars doesnât want to spend his life breathing iron dust on scrap duty. He wants to serve aboard something that actually matters.
When the *Aethelgard* docksâa hulking, scarred comet harvester built more like a floating factory than a spacecraftâlegendary Master Mechanic Vane issues an open call for apprentices. No diplomas, no slack. Only kids who can read metal and donât flinch at the heat. Selected over polished cadets from Ceres, Lars trades his cutting torch for Berth 404 aboard a steam-powered leviathan built to grapple billion-ton icebergs screaming through the void at forty kilometers a second. Here, in the sub-zero coma of a long-period comet, there are no telemetry scans, only raw iron, hissing steam, and the brutal math of survival.
From the freezing dark beyond perihelion to the melting core of an ancient ice rock, Lars must earn his Journeymanâs Mark under Vaneâs unforgiving eye. The void does not forgive sloppy welds or hesitant hands, and the *Aethelgard*âs warped hull hides scars from outgassing events that would break lesser crews. For a yard rat who once watched sparks fall like dying stars, the greatest harvest isnât heavy water or oxygenâitâs becoming someone the machines trust. A gritty, blue-collar journey into the cold, where every rivet tells a story and only the toughest apprentices make it back.
Fiction
November 13, 2026
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