Harsh Psych by Bonehole

'Come inside, if you like,' she said between gasps. Her black silk slip hoisted up; her ESA standard-issue knickers fit to rip around her knees.

'What? This is the super strength stuff!', I said. 'You don't want to get any of this on you! This'll put hairs on your chest!

'Each hair, plucked out, will turn into a carbon-based copy of either you or me. We're out of space as it is!'

Captain Hubbard lived in the Shu. She was serious about all her responsibilities to the crew. I knew she had my back, and I had hers.
And she'd one of the best I'd seen in over 20 years.

If you've ever spent any time around service personnel, you'll know exactly what I mean.

She had a damn fine back. But probably the most enduring thing about her, was her capacity to put up with no end of my bullshit.

Imagine, the only ways to get there!

Jimi ain't dead.

Is heads you go? Or, is it tales you know?

Is it murder if you get a robot to do it?