“The Promised Land Lester awoke to the sound of an electronic cricket chirping in his ear. His eyes opened to soft, warm darkness; he pushed back the black cotton eyeshades from his face. The lights of his compartment in the Collins’ mid-deck had been turned low; he was wrapped in a nylon sleep restraint. Lester heard the cricket chirp again, and he reached up to his ear to touch the lobe of his headset. “Riddell,” he muttered. Good morning, sir. It was the commander of the Michael Collins, Alli... James. We’re at six minutes till AOMV separation. We thought you might want to join us up here. “Hmm.” Lester’s mouth tasted greasy, as if he had been eating bad fried chicken the night before. He ran the tip of his tongue across his front teeth, wiping away a thin, sticky sheen of grime. He could have used a toothbrush right now, but there wasn’t enough time to visit the head. “Yeah. I’ll be right down … um, up. Whatever.” Do you need help? she asked, not unkindly. He winced.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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