In that precise, antiseptic, post-war society, thirteen hell-raising old space-warriors were as obsolete as brass knuckles in a debate... and somewhat more of a nuisance.
So brass-bands played, and brass-hats brayed... and a coffin ship left for...




![All Tomorrows [calibre 4.99.4]](https://www.rulit.me/data/programs/images/all-tomorrows-calibre-4-99-4_762156.jpg)