it's 3 am
korda moved quickly through the threshold into the cargo bay of his space-skiff, his space-coat wrapped tight around his rippling delts. fumbling in the dark, he hammered the bay-door switch, and flinched reflexively as the space doors slammed loudly shut behind him. as he hastily unfastened the duramagnesium clasps of his pleated jacket, he stumbled deeper inside, steadily further away from the deep space cold of necron 12. as the brave captain removed his rebreather, he briefly relished the privilege of a long, luxuriating inhalation. immediately regretful, he struggled to stifle a haggard cough. it never ceased to amaze him; no matter how long a spacer had been out there spacing, he just never gets used to the stale taste of recycled spaceship air. finally settling down, korda rubbed his tired grizzled eyes and grimaced,
"damn," he grunted, "space is really too wild"
tune in next week for chapter 2 of space ass: the captain korda saga
