Space Folds and BroomsticksBy C.D. Gallant-King
Captain Sawx tried to keep his cool. He really did. He went through the exercises taught during his Federacy-mandated anger management course, but all of them failed. The deep breathing, the counting to ten, even picturing his beloved childhood fluppy brought him no solace. None of it worked. He once kept calm during a hostage situation when the lives of forty children on an interplanetary school shuttle were at stake, but even he could not control his temper when faced with the idiocy of Sleahn and Treeg.
“What the frak do you think you were doing out there?” Sawx demanded, gobs of spittle flying from his glossy lips over the line of cadets standing on the deck in front of him.
Though twenty young people in flight suits stood at attention
