PotluckBrigand

Memories of the Future by Michael D. O'Reilly The interior of the United Earth Directorate's first and only specialized covert-operations battlecruiser looked the same as any other ship I had ever served on. Cold, sterile, utterly lifeless and impersonal. It was everything I loved about space. Waking up from cryogenic suspension took anywhere between five and sixty minutes, depending on the involved person's individual constitution and experience. I was up, dressed, and on the bridge of the Morgenstern in seven minutes. Across the table from me, our ship's Adjutant clicked back and forth rhythmically, its disembodied torso and he