The rise & fall of Thomas Gump. Pt One. I lay in my bunk for exactly four hours. Supposedly the minimum amount of sleep required to function. I lay awake the entire time, listening to the buzz of mining lasers. I’m well aware, as a reasonably educated human being, that rest and warmth are required for survival. But as I lay beneath my bedding, I felt neither sensation. Planets have atmospheres which retain heat, natural day and night cycles which encourage rest. Most star ships however, have no such problem. The vacuum of space consumes everything it touches, the little heat that the ships engines create is dissipated into it. Besides, we had been stationary for months. Without warning, other than the regularity of it’s occurrence, the cargo hold is jettisoned into space with a thunderous roar which shakes the entire ship. I took a deeper breath in, and as I exhaled watched the warmed air drift upwards from my mouth. I got out from my bunk without an alarm. I felt the ice cold air touch the skin of my torso, but remained warm. The dark skin which surrounds my eyes tightened, and my augmented nervous system began to wake other functions with a sharp and unnatural precision. The mirror on the far side of my quarters had frozen over, and hid most of my physical flaws, but not so much that I couldn’t see that I wasn’t in good shape. My stubble had started to turn gray and the scars were the only areas of skin left not aged. I reached for the small shelf near my bunk, pulled a standard issue vest over my head, and once again neglected to shave.