Excerpt by Sue Lange
from Tritcheon Hash
“Disengage please, Sylvant Hash.”
“Disengaged,” Slvt. Tritcheon Hash answered. “And fucked!” she added.
“I’m sorry?” The reply through the voice feeder was pretending it had missed that last thing.
“Nothing,” Tritch said, switching off the vox. “Nothing. Nothing.”
Blame her impatience on the fact that she’d been sitting in a one-size-fits-all seat for the past six hours. She had spent most of that time trying to revive parts of her body that had fallen asleep. It was an impossible task, since the hemp straps held her securely in place just like the procedural manuals liked it. S