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And somewhere Bethany is straggling through life without a nithrid. And somewhere Peter is huddled in the brig of a Fan Hoeng scissors-ship, and he is weeping, because all he ever got to do with his life was save a few hundred assassin-aliens whom he doesn’t even like and the last scissors in the world.

And you kind of feel bad for him, I guess, sort of, but he isn’t who this story is about.

None of them are.

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