Several hours later, Destin was gripping the bar next to the seat on the shuttle, trying to ignore Trig’s grin. He was seriously thinking of putting the heel of his boot in the Trivator’s mouth, but at the moment they were too firmly planted on the metal floor. He would have to wait until they were on the ship. If they had a workout room, he would give the grinning bastard a run for his money.
“Not much of a flyer, are you?” Trig asked over the noise of the engines.
“Yeah, at least not going into space,” Destin replied through gritted teeth. “I like flying, but not in space.”
“Your planet does not have space travel?” Trig asked.
Destin looked at the other man and shook his head. “We have it, but not like this. Well, sort of like this,” he tried to explain before relaxing his grip when
