“Don’t pander to me, kid. One tiny crack in the hull and our blood boils in 13 seconds. A solar flare might crop up, cook us in our seats. And wait till you’re sitting pretty with a case of Andorian shingles. See if you’re still so relaxed when your eyeballs are bleeding. Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence.”
Well, I got nowhere else to go. The ex-wife took the whole damn planet in the divorce. All I got left is my bones.