Thursday, October 22, 2015

100 Words a Day 728

The material of his glove squeaked as he gripped the stick. He swallowed loudly, but the sound was lost in the noise created by his respiration system. He ran the ship’s controls though their diagnostics again, green lights across the board.

It was his first mission. They were to clear some pirates out of an asteroid field. The raiders’ base was just coming into visual and he could already see their fighters scrambling to meet his flight wing. This was the sort of thing he had trained for, to help keep order in the galaxy. But his hands were sweating.

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