After months spent on the Chu'unthor, moving around on a living moon felt awkward to the old man. But it was the air that felt best. Fresh air, produced by thousands of real trees. Not the recycled stuff from the massive ship. This was the real stuff.

Hivolt sat back in a chair staring off at the grove of trees in the distance thinking to himself. If a man could find a way to bottle real air, he'd be a wealthy man.

The thought of wealth made him chuckle a bit. Cause he stopped and wondered, who needed wealth. Here I sit with out two credits to rub together and I've got all I could ever want.

Oct 29, 2009 5:42 AM | Report Abuse reply