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Peering out through the squeaky-clean porthole, at the vast expanse of stars he used to command. “Ah, those were the days!” Rex called out to the empty air and nostalgia.
He thought he heard himself faintly echo back above the constant buzz of the tin box he was trapped in... but craning his neck, and really straining. Was it? Was it chanting he could hear?
“..ᴅᴇᴍᴏ..ᴅᴇᴍᴏ..ᴅᴇᴍᴏ..ᴅᴇᴍᴏ..ᴅᴇᴍᴏ..ᴅᴇᴍᴏ..ᴅᴇᴍᴏ..ᴅᴇᴍᴏ..ᴅᴇᴍᴏ”
The vacuum of space and the endless weeks of waiting, loneliness and wondering - is the mission ever going to start? It's enough to give any sensible man a case of the space-willies.
“Never mind all that!” Rex bellowed. “14:00 hours! Time to feed the fish...”