Tatehan's mind was still trying to wrap itself around the concept of space pirates.
He couldn't help it. The image was too vivid now, too compelling to let go of. It was mind-blowing even.
He found himself imagining what they would actually look like, these renegades of the stellar void. Would they dress like the old pirates from Earth's history? Tricorn hats and long coats, except made from thermal-resistant fabrics and lined with oxygen recyclers?
Or would they look completely different, practical and utilitarian, all jumpsuits and magnetic boots and helmets scarred from a thousand near-misses with debris?
