A Slight Imperfection	Alec Myre dragged the old-fashioned wet razor down the left side of his neck and stopped. It was such a simple movement, honed through years of pre-breakfast ritual, and should have passed in an instant without a single interruption to his thoughts of what needed to be done at the lab that day. More.
Deliverance	McBride stood, hands clasped behind him, eyes fixed on the unchanging ebony vista shown by the large viewscreen in his stateroom. The view didn't come close to the gaudy splendour of the Inner Systems, but nevertheless the black was still flecked with a sprinkling of stars. The sparseness of the Fringe somehow making each spark seemingly possessed of a greater fragile importance because of its rarity. More