Excerpt: Redarian

Travis Garrity felt the man's breath on his neck and tried not to cringe.

Did the self-appointed governor of this expedition have to eat so much garlic, and on top of that, stand within a half a meter with everyone he wanted to talk to?

"We're not there yet," Travis said for the nineteenth time today. He knew. He kept track.

Governor Isaac Johanna leaned over the console, his breath even more pungent, and said, "You said it would be today, Garrity."

"And it will, but you hovering over me will not make this bucket go any faster."

Travis could feel Johanna's glare when he said, "This bucket has been your home all your life. Show some respect."

Home, Travis thought. More like a prison and the only way out was the vacuum of space. How could he respect that? Truth was, he was more eager to get to their destination than the governor, and most of the other colonists aboard this 70-year-old heap named "Red Dagger."

Red Dagger. What a name. Pink Rust Bucket was more apt in describing her.

Travis smirked and gave the pilot console a small caress. He did love her, even as he despised her. She brought them through many a hardship with few problems. She was well-built even if she was ugly.