NOTE: This is unauthorized fan-fiction of Demetria’s Science fiction without the social justice.
John Spaceman leaned back in his floatchair. The condensers whirred as they picked up the shifting weight.
“You ever been a rocket ship as big and as throbbing red as one, Lieutenant… uh…”
“Astro-Draper. But you can call me Don.”
The walls of the ship throbbed exactly once. The ship was begging. Begging to leave this dusty, war-torn planet and plunge into the deep abyss of space. But first things first.
“Nice haircut, Don.”
The Lieutenant blushed. “It’s regulation, sir. Now that I have my discharge, I want to grow it long and rub grease all over it.”
Spaceman had his doubts about taking on a crew member so late into the plan. But, looking into his blue eyes and milky alabaster skin, he felt he could trust Don. He just looked safe. The kind of man that spoke your language and whom you knew would come to work on time every day. The kind of man you’d like to meet in a dark alley.
“I bet you’re gonna miss the war right? All those sweet explosions and fighter jets.”
“Yeah, war is pretty fun! I’m going to miss it.”
The loss of bone-shaking explosions in Don’s life has been hard, mmm yes, but something he was coming to grips with. What he needed now was a job with John Spaceman. Something he could get deep into and just work until his body no longer yearned for war.
Spaceman smiled and stood up. “Dude, you’re hired. But first, let’s get off this rocket ship and get some babes.”
Don heterosexually agreed.