Star Dancer: Free chapter read… Hey, Fall is coming! I had to harvest my tomato plants already! I hope everyone is good, Dell…

STAR DANCER

Copyright 2018 Dell Sweet all rights reserved.

Cover Art © Copyright 2018 Dell Sweet

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LEGAL

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places or incidents depicted are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual living person’s places, situations or events is purely coincidental.

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ONE

Earth Date: 2196 – 08 -25 – 16:21:43

Moon Base 14: United Planet Technologies

Intra Flight Systems: Star Dancer

Michael Watson

Michael Watson, Mike to his friends purchased Star Dancer right after college and began intra system runs shortly after that. He could remember his great-grandfather, gone now for more than forty years, talking about what he had, had for opportunities right out of high school. That would be laughable now. Mike’s parents had, had his life mapped out from the age of two. Life Mapping was and is a serious thing, Mike didn’t know anyone that didn’t have their lives mapped out now from birth or before.

School was not complete without college. You could not be licensed to work the counters of a Planet Burger unless you had two years of college. His own career had taken four years of Specialty College as well as geared trade school from the first grade on. When other first graders were learning about monetary systems and world level banking, he had been learning about Solar Wind Drives and Hydrogen Propulsion units.

The grades, one through twelve, start at age three and last on average seven years. Some fall behind, some spring ahead, but by ten years of age most are ready for focused education and he was no exception. He began his specialized training; four years, four more years of global military service after that with an option for six more which he had deferred and he was pretty sure he made his instructors very happy by doing so, and so at the old age of eighteen Mike had signed a twenty year funding commitment for Star Dancer. At the time he was sure he would never dig himself out of thirty million credits of debt, but for the last two years he had been watching credits build in his accounts.

Today he was docking at UPT on Moon Fourteen to pick up a four year re-supply for a prison colony at Mars Twenty-Seven: Some kind of Tech drop for Colony One; and two panel pre-fab labs for IO’s base six.

Moon Base Fourteen is United Planet Technologies’ own base. There is not much else there; a small cafeteria, some lounges for through travelers, each progressively worse than the last: The best being Vic’s, and Vic’s was the only official bar, the other two were simply overlooked. That could happen at a base that was not really a base at all but a company town.

Mike had, had the tour before and short of taking on a small fed crew, and maybe a new navigator to replace the one he had been without for the last seventeen months he would be here only long enough to fuel, be unloaded and then reloaded: Once the ship was re-supplied he would be off; there would be no downtime in the next twenty-four hours.

The crew was a fed security and transport crew. In other words a federal crew that would accompany him to all three of the offloads, do all the offloading and on loading. He would be coming back to Moon Base Fourteen with a full load of finished products bound for Earth and they would pack it all, all he had to do was bring it back. They also provided security for himself and the Star Dancer crew. In nearly twenty years of intra cruising he had never had a single security issue for them to defend him from.

On the last stop, IO, he would lose the crew. That would leave him alone for the return trip unless they turned up a dead head crew for the return trip. He would also be required to transport any returning paroled inmates: Terminated or retired employees or UPT employees that required transport: Bar those possibilities; unless he signed a navigator today he would be coming back alone and so far out of twenty possible candidates he had, had only five show up, and out of the five three had turned him down. He had turned the other two down. He told himself that if he were a betting man the odds were that he would be riding alone this return trip.

A return trip alone did not mean he would be returning empty. No transport was ever left empty. There were always shipments heading back to Earth, short hops to other Moon Bases, Mars and twice he had done several runs between IO and Mars without going back to Earth. In any case of in-system transport he was required to have a security crew. If it was a straight run back to the Moon or Earth then the shipment was loaded, locked and sealed and he could run back with no security crew. If a parolee was scheduled for the ride back then a security team was required, even if there was no other reason for their presence. He had rarely transported parolees, once or twice that he could recall. He almost always offloaded, reloaded Earth-bound cargo, loaded up supplies and a dead head crew, usually a mixed security and worker crew and headed back within a day or two.

He eased Star Dancer into dock. Most Captains go with the auto-nav, but he had heard too many horror stories about out of phase computers, last second power surges and more to trust his ship to the machines. He would do it himself. He had known how to do it since third grade in the flight sims: Microsoft had the best federally approved space-flight sims and Mike’s parents had made sure he got the best.

He gave his reverse thrusters a quick slap with his palm at three hundred feet out and watched the ships lock coupler drift home with nothing more than a small frame vibration when all systems went green on lock-in. He keyed his overhead.

“Central, I’m locked on 6B… Standing by for station personnel, over…”

“Green on my board, Dancer… Unlocking for loads… You have company standing by, Dancer.”

“Oh yeah?” That was a surprise.

“Uh… Lounge seven… Navigator?”

“Oh, okay, right… Send him right up, and thank you.”

“Uh, her.”

“Her?”

“Oh yeah… Pretty sure unless I’m blind.” He chuckled.

“Huh… Supposed to be…” He punched the name up on his scheduling screen. “Pete Stanovich.”

“Uh huh… Short for Petra no doubt… Petra Stanovich… See you must have heard the Pete part and not the tra part.” He chuckled again.

“Someone screwed up… It’s entered as Pete in the com. Okay send her up then and thanks.”

“Coming at you… Base out.”

Mike clicked off and sighed. This meant number twenty-one was most likely a wash too. Most women who interviewed for the job were not interested once they realized it was an intra-galaxy, or system cruiser and one that was considered a dinosaur of a ship. About all he did have to offer were transferable credits for Federal space-work. Because he had not deactivated his military time he had what was called time for time credit. A perk because he had done his four in the service and kept his six active. That meant that technically the feds could still pick him up for that six any time they wanted to. In exchange it meant that he could offer his employees who were fresh out of military service time for time credit. A young navigator would have to be fresh out of military service, or within their benefit time window, thus making them eligible for the time. The time would count directly as military experience in advanced navigation; a big plus, but maybe not worth the two year minimum hitch they would have to do on his ship.

Even so it was a good perk and the past three navigators he had hired were immediately picked up for star cruiser service at the end of their contracts. It was both his ace in the hole and his queen of spades.

He unbuckled thought about it and then keyed his Com-Link

“Unlocked, central and could you delay my visitor by twenty?”

“Be at least that… Problem?”

“No… That’ll work…”

“Okay, Mike… You have Baylor as Sec-Chief… A crew of twenty security. Three max level prisoner transports and four tech level grads bound for IO. That’s it… Out.”

Mike keyed his Com-Link as an answer; flicked the unlock switches for the cargo holds, electronically signed his security certificate to allow off loading and loading and headed for the showers and fresh clothes. He may as well make the best impression that he could, he reasoned.

Earth Date: 2296 – 08 – 25 16:27:14

Moon Base Fourteen: Visitor Lounge seven

United Planet Technologies:

Petra Stanovich

She could see the bar through the glass wall; she supposed that was the idea, but the last thing she needed before the interview was a drink.

This would be her fourth interview: Each interview had started out good and then spiraled downward. She supposed her job broker was doing the best he could though. She had no real experience. Her parents had used all of their remaining influence to get her into the military after two years of training school. She had worked out of field for the last two years, a bad mistake. You became obsolete fast as a navigator. She had been considering using her six on the back and going back into the military side of the feds. There would be plenty of navigators and pilot positions there. The out of field work had really put her in a bad position, but even though military service could save her situation, if she went to the military side of the feds she could forget about ever having a civilian career.

The only good thing about this particular position was that it was a time for time position. It would count as military time; restart her clock and qualify her for something better down the line. The overhead speaker suddenly came to life with a loud buzzing that made her react by clasping her hands over her ears.

“Remain where you are… Attention: Remain where you are. Federal transport crews are moving through your area with dangerous cargo. It is in your best interest to avoid all movement as motion sensing units may determine that you are a threat to security”… The speakers went dead for a few seconds and then began repeating the warning again. She watched as doors slid open in the middle of an el-bank and a security crew stepped from  the el, weapons at the ready sweeping the area, stopping on Petra, turning and motioning to the el’s other occupants.

Three chained and cuffed inmates stepped out, herded by three other security staff. Hands cuffed to a set of chains that encircled their waists, leg chains that hobbled them to a short, shuffling stride. The security team surrounded them and herded them into long tunnels that lead to a transport shuttle. She watched as the inmates shuffled slowly down the hallway and into the shuttle. Shortly after that the overhead speakers went back to some sort of electronic music that had been there all along: She hadn’t even noticed it.

She turned her mind back to the upcoming job interview and what it could mean to her as she watched the shuttle do several slow burns, revolve slightly out of dock and angle toward the Star Dancer. She had not given any thought to the fact that criminals would be traveling on the ship. It was something she hadn’t known. She entertained the thought briefly: She supposed they would be locked well away from the rest of the crew; and then turned her mind back to the job interview. Military time, she thought weighing the pros and cons again.

Time for time would not take away from her on-the-back time; it added to her military experience instead: So her two years became four years, and two more became six. In that sense it was a good opportunity, but nothing else about this position looked good at all.

She had watched the Star Dancer dock: A twenty-eight year old intra cruiser: Straight cargo. She was shaped like a giant box with rounded corners. The propulsion units, hydrogen drives and living quarters sat atop the box; rounded, slightly flattened spheres looking as though they had been added as an afterthought. She watched the shuttle dock at one of two dozen docking stations laid out along the side of Star Dancer: A slight bump that she remembered from school and that would be it: The auto couplers would engage; draw the ship in and couple the station ship and shuttle together.

Each station contained an el entrance, vid-screens and controls for docking; coupling. Each docking required prior approval or the auto couplers, affected by a powerful magnetic field would not engage, the locks would not cycle and the shuttle would touch, bump slightly and then continue backwards slipping out of the gravitational pull of the mag-field.

She wondered about the intra class cruiser now, ‘How many of these were left in service?’ … ‘Two?’ … ‘Three?‘ … A quick check of her wrist pad showed her just how wrong she was. There were over ten thousand Intra-Class cruisers of this configuration in service right now. That was mind boggling. She had assumed that the heavy Star-Cruisers were what dominated the heavens, but she was wrong. The same link gave her the data for that configuration: Only slightly more than four thousand and out of that number only one hundred twenty-eight were licensed as Star Cruisers, the rest were Galaxy-Cruisers, short run re-supply craft and drone craft for quantum travel. The antiquated intra cruisers far outnumbered the galaxy class cruisers of the official Federal fleets. Maybe the whole thing could be a plus, she thought.

She watched the huge transparent outer wall. The shuttle that she had watched dock had been joined by three others: Looking as though they had been there since the ship had left dry-dock. She saw loading was already taking place on the cruiser. Two hatches were open, and company workers in full radiation suits could be seen inside the cargo bays. Rows of lights lit the space: It yawned open like a cavern far into the interior of the ship; so far that she could not see the end of the space.

All the approaching shuttles and even the workers seemed to be moving in slow motion. Space did that. It seemed to take forever for something to actually happen: A shuttle to close the distance to a dock facility; a worker to push off and then maneuver with suit thrusters to their next work station.

On the other hand, she realized that she had stopped watching twice, chasing thoughts in her head and when she had turned back so much had happened that she was surprised. More support shuttles towing cargo barges had shown up: Teams of workers riding on the open barges for their short trip to their work stations. The whole ship was crawling with workers: Inspectors, mechanics and repair persons. Seen from this perspective it made the Intra-Cruiser appear to be a very important ship after all. Petra shook her head. It was still thirty year old technology. If she were offered the job and she hoped she was she would stay no more than the required two years to get her career back on track… Nothing more, if she did stay longer the technology curve would pass her by. That was the last thing she needed, she would have absolutely nothing left to fall back on and that was bad. That was how the prison colonies were populated.

The prison colonies had started with the undesirables: Murderers, rapists, predators that were deemed unfit for society: As the colonies grew the feds moved on down the criminal line to fill them: Multiple offenders, thieves and other criminals. Finally, the prisons on Earth were emptied and all prisoners were re-located off planet.

That had happened in part because the real estate on Earth had suddenly been deemed too expensive to use for housing them. Yes, correctional services were still a cash cow, but it was simply moved off planet. Earth’s citizens did not want their criminals living among them. The colonies on Mars, IO, Europa and Venus were perfect for penal colonies. All of the first off-Moon colonies had been built by prisoners.

It had worked perfectly and long before the massive death tolls and horrid conditions came to light the Feds had perfected living condition requirements and buildings that could withstand life in those places. What was past was past, those that write history shape history they say and it had been that way, she knew.

The changes and colonies had come at the expense of some ninety-two thousand inmates and political prisoners. Earth’s citizens turned away their blind eyes; happy that those prisoners were not a blight upon the Earth itself; walking among them in some cases. Glad to risk lives that were not their own for progress.

It left a bad taste in Petra’s mouth, but her own position was not much better. Last year both of her parents had been killed in a random terrorist attack on their building. It happened about twice a month somewhere in the world. There were so many factions opposed to the unified Federal Global Government.

Truth be told, she didn’t like it herself. It scared her in its impersonal approach to life and death, human rights. Two years before it had become a world class felony to be found homeless: Picked up and convicted the offenders were deported off-world to one of the penal colonies. An unspecified sentence which was a black mark forever and then usually an offer of half pay to work at some back water colony base, or new base construction project with little or no law once the sentence was finished. And if you didn’t accept that good luck finding some quick way back to Earth; and you wouldn’t be given much chance to do that either. You would be declared insolvent within days unless you had means and tossed into jail where the process would start all over again.

The new law affected her because she was not yet a viable worker and the government had seized all of her parent’s property and assets for unpaid Life Taxes: Poor planning on their parts. She was essentially homeless; living on her two year service benefit. That benefit entitled her to government housing, education and job placement: Meals, as well as a small monthly credit allowance, but it was not indefinite. It would continue for three years, four if she applied for the extension: Time was running out.

Of course, worse come to worse she would re-enlist before she would allow herself to slip into an illegal existence and be shipped off to some penal colony. It was still far from a happy existence for her. Better if she were offered this job: No she corrected; she needed to get this job.

She turned her attention back to the intra cruiser and saw that the first two shuttles had arrived in the first cargo hold and were off loading. If she were on that ship it would be her job to monitor that off-loading and re-loading as it occurred. Even now she would be doing her pre-flight checks as she did it. She would probably be thinking about her first off-planet trip. She had never seen Mars, Venus or IO except in video clips and sims.

Her concentration was broken when she heard her name announced over the loud speaker system in the lounge: She got up; gathered her case and headed for converse four as instructed. It was easy enough to find. Ten minutes later she was strapped into a battered dock shuttle on her way to Star Dancer.

Earth Date 2096-08-25 16:52:58

Star Dancer

Michael

He got a good look at Petra as he flagged her through the air-locks: All fresh air; your basic space bug-Earth bug delousing unit. People had at one time believed that space was sterile. A few serious contaminations early in the century had stopped that. Of course the delousing process rendered you sterile. It was the same, male or female. The price you paid, so you banked your eggs or your sperm and didn’t give it any more thought. Space travel, constant radioactive exposure, caused all sorts of birth defects. It only made sense.

She was tall, blue-black hair, high cheekbones: Russian. The hair had to be dyed, but it suited her face which was hard edged and a little angular. Something past pretty, but less than beautiful… Maybe, he decided.

He had read her information over twice as he had waited for transport. He had also picked up the lounge seven video feed, matching the description with what he saw so he better understood who he was looking at. He had initially gone by the name to conjure a description in his head. He had been far off to say the least.

He knew she was on thin ice: About a year left on her military benefits and she would be declared homeless; probably insolvent shortly after that. Her only choices were military services or a foot in the door somewhere. Mike had no doubt she would use the job as a stepping stone, but it would set up his operations with Star Dancer for the next two years and he needed the stability back.

Top ten percent of her classes: Short on military experience, only a two year plan. Fluent in twelve languages, double the average. She had no political advantages so she had no opportunities in the corporate world. She needed him it seemed as much as he needed her.

He buzzed her through the last lock. Flushed the air and then keyed his Com-Link.

“I’ve sent the El for you. It’s a slow go traveling three hundred decks, but it’s programmed to bring you to the bridge. I’ll see you in about twenty minutes, Miss Stanovich.”

She turned her dark eyes to the camera. “Thank you.”

Star Dancer Bridge

17:13:22

Michael

“Full gravity?” Petra asked as she stepped from the El.

He had met her at the elevator door and they were walking the curved and window ported outer hallway that ringed the central area.

“It’s magnetic and yes it’s full-time… Does it feel like Earth?”

“Very much so… I didn’t think an intra…” She colored.

He laughed. “Don’t worry about it; you won’t hurt my feelings. I know, fresh out of service you must have seen technology that makes this old bucket look its age.”

She smiled, but her face was still flushed.

“Really… I do understand and don’t worry… The field is a perk. The feds installed it. They ship some gravity sensitive stuff, there’s a small cargo space directly above us and really sensitive ‘Destroy if captured’ stuff in security safes on the main deck. One deck down is the exercise suite. Two decks down we have Fed living quarters. Federal troops every trip out. So… We get gravity full time.” He smiled at her again and she smiled back.

“It’s not perfect though. The mag field takes a little getting used to. It’s never bothered me though,” he finished abruptly; realizing that he had just run on longer than he needed or had intended to.

“What does it do?” She asked. “Side effects?”

“Space sickness… Upset stomach: Two of my navigators and one of the Fed crew… It lasted a few days and then they got their space legs. “He laughed.

“You said exercise equipment?”

“Another perk: I carry full crews out bound every trip and I almost always come back with a dead-head crew too. They’re supposed to use it, but they rarely do. They tend to socialize together on their own deck. There’s a small inner-deck El that connects us. The exercise deck is state of the art: Weight machines, treadmills, elliptical, stationary bikes… It’s nice.”

“But shouldn’t they check in with you?” She seemed surprised.

Mike shook his head and shrugged. “Technically I am their captain, but in actuality they couldn’t care less. They’re company men and women: Fed military or company security; civilian transfers, in-contract replacement personnel. They take their orders from the company or the on-ship assigned security chief. As long as they don’t interfere with the running of my ship we operate independently. You’re used to chain of command…?”

She nodded.

“Nothing like that here: We’re like neighboring countries, my own crew stays here and the Fed crews stay there. I can’t recall a time when I have met more than two or three of a crew at any given time. The security chief is Robert Baylor. He’s been assigned to me for the last…” He looked thoughtful. “Something like twelve years. I meet with him before we begin each trip, in fact he was just up here a few hours ago. I might see one or less of his crew during a trip and of course my crew consists of me and a navigator that’s it.” He shrugged once again. “That’s the reality of intra cruising.”

“You transport inmates?” Petra asked.

“Sometimes,” Mike agreed. “I have some outbound this trip. I’ll never see them… Would never know they are there except Baylor briefs me on them. When we reach Twenty Seven, which is the Mars max prison colony they’ll be off loaded. When we finish up there might be some parolees to transport back.”

“The parolees are up here with us?” Petra asked.

“No, never. The only ones up here with us are members of my crew. That consists of me and thee if you take the job. They will house with the feds… Same goes for any hitch; just a name for anything Earth bound that has a pulse. That is all Fed responsibility.”

She nodded and followed him onto the bridge.

The bridge on an Intra-Cruiser is a very small area. It is at the front of the pod with a wrap-around viewing port and a large viewing screen between the seats that could be switched to multiple feeds or single feeds anywhere on or off ship. Contrary to popular belief, even Mike’s own until the fourth grade; there wasn’t always anything of great interest to see in space at any given time.

Most of the wall space was taken up with smaller flat panel displays hooked into ship systems. There were three console units with chairs directly facing the continuous port and center screen.

“You would be here with me most of the time.” Mike waved his hand to include the entire room. “Take your pick of seating, any console can be configured the way you want it to be. Sit down give a shot it’s pretty straight forward.”

She sat; pulled the overhead monitor down and had the navigation screens up in just a few moments. She studied them for a few seconds. “Looks easy enough.”

“It is… Believe me; you’ll be bored most of the time. Off duty there’s the gym. You’ll house with me on our own deck. The rooms are small, just a built in rack and lockers, drawers. There are four racks in each room, three rooms, so in theory I have the sleep space for twelve people. You can pick the room you want. I just spread out my vast collection of junk on the other racks in mine. Ship to Earth is always open; just keep in mind we’re on the backbone of the communications structure, so limited priority. It usually hits the stream in an hour or two. We have personal view-screens in the room and personal logs ship wide. Vids, music, eBooks… You automatically have full educational credits and full access to anything Fed. Anything you want to study; download it and you’ll get credits for it, it will cost you nothing… A Fed perk…  There are so many ways to fill the time.”

“When would I have to decide?”

Mike looked at one of the wall monitors and the time stamp that ran along the bottom. “You have about four hours from now. That will give me time to re-configure rations, get your licensing in order, passport, extra fuel supplies… Or, you could think it over this trip and I’ll be back in thirteen months, give or take… That’s my average round trip.”

“So… So you’re offering me the job?” she asked. She was a little wide eyed.

“Absolutely… You’re qualified… Listen, let’s face it you’re overqualified. I’d be damn lucky to get you. The only thing I’d ask of you is the standard two year contract.” She started to speak, but he held up his hands.

“You can’t hurt my feelings. Two years as we both know is the maximum benefit time for you and it will give you the time to look around. It is an incredible world out there. You won’t believe all the contacts and people you’ll meet. It will give you some real time to breathe… Think about what you really want to do. I’ve got some good contacts I could point you at.”

“You would do that for me?”

“Absolutely… You do right by me and I’ll be happy to do right by you.”

“Okay.” She looked around the room. “My stuff is in a locker off Lounge 7.”

It took him a second. “Oh, you meant okay as in you’ll take it, the job?”

“She smiled. “Sorry. Guess I forgot to add yes I’ll take the job.”

“No, no I’m a little slow.” He turned back to his monitor and pulled up the re-stocking charts. “Any particular wants or needs? We eat pretty standard stuff, reconstituted ready meals, but the Fed contracts load us up with all kinds of stuff. Perks again, but they are well stocked here at Fourteen… Real coffee… Media… Whatever.” He continued through the screens and began to recalculate the fuel requirements.

Earth Date 2196-08-25 00:03:51

Moon Base fourteen

United Planet Technologies

Intra cruiser: Star Dancer

Mike ran down the lists as Petra pulled them up on her screens and checked them off: Flawless, he thought as he watched her.

“It looks good, Michael.”

“It is good, Petra… Take it out.” He picked up his mug of coffee, the first real coffee he had, had in a while. It sure beat synthetics. He felt the vibration as she threw the dock lock switches and expertly palmed the thrusters. Star Dancer did a slow, nearly perfect half turn and then Petra did a longer burn to put them into the ten mile safety limit before she could engage the hydrogen engines.

Mike watched Moon Base Fourteen fall slowly behind them on the main monitor and then continued watching as Petra went through the pre hydrogen drive check lists. He had done it so long by himself that he almost felt guilty sitting back and letting her take care of it. Nevertheless it felt good and he was looking forward to the company.

“Ten plus zero zero one,” Petra said.

“Kick ’em,” he told her.

She grinned at him and then reached forward and engaged the drives.

Mike sat back and watched the red mileage numerals begin to move faster and then he turned his attention to his own checks: Cargo, decks, company crews. A few minutes later he was done and he sat back and watched as Petra finished her calculations and sent them to his screen to check and approve. She began to program her side navigation console.

Moon Base Fourteen was gone. The moon itself was a distant smear of dull gray next to the big blue ball. Sometimes there were things to look at in space.

He sat back and relaxed into his chair and thumbed his Log-Link.

“Intra-Cruiser Star Dancer forty-five minutes and twenty-eight seconds out of Moon Base Fourteen. Present Michael Watson chief operating officer, Petra Stanovich navigation officer. We have at present twenty-eight Fed crew and transportees under Commander Bob Baylor, see contract FQHPX2879 for an individual manifest. In the advent of boarding protocols, be aware there are Fed inmates included in the manifest and deck sub-zero-two is in a state of lock-down for the voyage per Commander Baylor. See rule 2a, sub section twelve concerning any contact situation that may occur.

“Mars Prison Colony Twenty-Seven will be our first stop, a re-supply, see manifest 97715. Mars One tech drop, see Fed contract 771926f, our second stop. IO six, last drop, pre-fab building shipment under science contract 279916bx… Watson out.”

He picked up his mug and sipped at his coffee while Petra did her own log. He had a navigator for the next two years; after that maybe he would bite the bullet and spring for a Star Cruiser. He thought about it. He just might do it. Maybe it was time for a change. Maybe he could even run it by Petra and see how it sounded to another set of ears. Maybe it would even interest her.

It made him feel good; maybe he had simply fallen into a rut over the past seventeen months. He was surprised how good the bridge felt with someone else on it. He sipped at his coffee and watched the Earth grow smaller as they picked up speed.

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Michael Watson is the captain of an inner galaxy cruiser: He Purchased Star Dancer and has spent the last twenty years running people and supplies to outposts within the confines of the Solar System… #SciFi #StarTravel #DellSweet

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