Mira ran her glove over the crate’s surface. The singing stopped. Then started again, a semitone higher.
“You are not Shoetsu.”
Salvage Specialist Mira Chen had seen a lot in her fifteen years of deep-space recovery: frozen crews, alien bacteria blooms, even a singleton black hole no bigger than a fist. But she had never heard a piece of cargo sing. Shoetsu Otomo Reona 44l