Chapter 8
Gleep's Softening Grin
Despite his constant grumbling, Gleep starts to show a hint of concern for Astra and her mission. He begins to appreciate her unconventional bravery.
Gleep’s grumbles were as constant as the hum of his welding torch. Astra, perched precariously on a stack of spare asteroid ore, tried her best to ignore them. “Just a little further, Gleep! I can almost taste the starlight!” she chirped, her voice echoing in the cavernous bay of the rickety spaceship, the Cosmic Clunker.
Gleep, who was wrestling with a particularly stubborn plasma conduit, let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a strangled badger. “Taste the starlight? You’ll taste disappointment and possibly a black hole if you don’t stop bouncing like an over-caffeinated nebula slug.” He jabbed a wrench at her. “And stop calling it the Cosmic Clunker. It’s a perfectly respectable, if slightly… seasoned, vessel.”
Astra giggled. “Seasoned like your stew, maybe. Which, by the way, smelled suspiciously like burnt engine grease yesterday.”
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