Have Spaceship, Will Travel

By K. A. Jordan

A man follows his dreams into the vast Solar System to mine for minerals. 

 

After years as a corporate flunky, 'Gus' Ferguson chucks his entire life into the trash bin and buys himself a little spaceship. He names it the Tyson and leaves Luna Station to mine the asteroid belt.

 

But strange things happen before his ship takes off and nothing goes as planned. He gets a message from the Sysop of the Communications network and a mysterious Geisha brings him live cargo to transport -- a cat. When he baulks at the deal -- who wants to clean up cat hair and a litter box? -- she sweetens the deal with a cleaning robot — Maintenance Unit Six.

 

The Maintenance Unit series of robots were a failure, but these little robots can learn simple tasks. Cats are designed to hunt and kill small creatures. To Gus's annoyance, the robot becomes prey for the bored cat.

 

Now the Life Support system isn't thriving! Gus could run out of air, like a hundred Spacer-Joes before him. He's starting to think they will never make it to Beta Station! As The Point of No Return looms, Gus must decide -- turn back to Luna Base, or gamble on making it to Beta Station?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Icy Road Publishing
• Release date: Feb 21, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224153718

K. A. Jordan

K. A. Jordan was a refugee from the Rust Belt who escaped to the Blue Grass Kentucky in 1992. She writes and blogs from 'Jordan's Croft' a small farm where she lives with her husband, three horses, three dogs and a herd of alpacas. She says of her writing: "There are no 'ripped bodices' in my novels, but you will find charming criminals, wounded heroes, mad artists and the occasional haunted motorcycle." Her debute novel "Let's Do Lunch" spent 10 weeks on the Amazon UK Romantic Suspence Best Sellers list, peaking at #3, in December 2011. She followed that success with "Swallow the Moon" and "Horsewomen of the Zombie Apocalypse."  She holds a degree in Applied Science, spins her own yarn, gardens and can often be found on the back of her husband's Suzuki M109 motorcycle.

Book preview

Have Spaceship Will Travel

By K. A. Jordan

A man follows his dreams into the vast Solar System to mine for minerals. Why not?

After years as a corporate flunky, 'Gus' Ferguson chucks his entire life into the trash bin and buys himself a little spaceship. He names it the Tyson and leaves Luna Station to mine the asteroid belt.

But strange things happen before his ship takes off and nothing goes as planned. He gets a message from the Sysop of the Communications network and a mysterious Geisha brings him live cargo to transport -- a cat. When he baulks at the deal -- who wants to clean up cat hair and a litter box? -- she sweetens the deal with a cleaning robot — Maintenance Unit Six.

The Maintenance Unit series of robots were a failure, but these little robots can learn simple tasks. Cats are designed to hunt and kill small creatures. To Gus's annoyance, the robot becomes prey for the bored cat.

Now the Life Support system isn't thriving! Gus could run out of air, like a hundred Spacer-Joes before him. He's starting to think they will never make it to Beta Station! As The Point of No Return looms, Gus must decide -- turn back to Luna Base, or gamble on making it to Beta Station?

Have Spaceship - Will Travel

K. A. Jordan

Published by Icy Road Publishing

Copyright © 2022 by K. A. Jordan

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction.

All the characters are products of the author's imagination.

Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

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Luna Base

The spaceship was shaped like a sneaker. It might be the Tribaunte or Yugo of spaceships, Gus thought wryly, but it belongs to me.

It was a Virgin Galactic VG1600 with a blunt front end, widening towards the back, square ended, it was even the color of an old sneaker: that dull blotchy gray. The windows were higher up on the nose. The lower part, the sole of the sneaker, housed the solar sails, safely folded together and tucked under their shields.

Ferguson had scrimped, saved and sold everything to raise the cash to buy this ship. Virgin Galactic didn't make loans, it was cash on the barrel-head or forget it. Practical of them, since the average Spacer-Joe wouldn't live long enough to make it to the Belt and back.

He paced the Luna Base launch bay, circling his prize, letting the thrill of ownership course through his veins like some fiery drug.

What to name his space ship?

The Ferguson, the Merry Lady, the Freewheeler, Can't-Catch-Me, the Enterprise (had to have a thousand of those) Gone to Glory, New Life, the Rose (Would a spaceship by any other name still smell like the sneaker it resembled?)

He would have to give it a really cool name.

There was a registration number (four letters and twelve digits) that told him nothing, suggested nothing. He knew that this was a slightly better model than the year before (though not by much). The company, Virgin Galactic was selling these ships as fast as they could assemble them. Ferguson has been on the waiting list for 3 years (one half of the purchase price in cash at time of order, thank you).

There WERE cheaper models, recycled models, never repossessed, no: you had to have a clean title in order to space.

Rumor had it that there were (out on the Belt) spaceships being towed back to the recyclers, their dead owners inside. Any mistake could kill you in the Belt. He had even heard (at a bar on the Moon base) that there were people going out in glass foam bubbles, with the barest life-support. They lived in their suits 24/7 for months at a time.

That had to stink.

He had talked to a guy who swore he new somebody who's brother had gone to Pluto and back in a shuttle.

There were miner's tales that Spacer-Joes circulated amongst themselves, of ore strikes, space diamonds as big as a man's head, plagues, caffard, pirates, and corrupt spacers who would kill a man for the water in his body and the meat on his bones.

Not me, he thought, running a pre-launch check as he circled. I'm not somebody's lunch. Those years of martial arts classes would come in handy.

He had been a pilot in the National Guard, flew small planes all his life. This was a little different, a few more systems, but mistakes were no less deadly. But after twenty years as a flunky for a large retail corporation, he wanted to be as far from other people as he could get. Gus figured he could handle anything space could throw at him.

The check was finished. Gus stepped inside the airlock. The size of a coffin for a fat man in a space suit, he thought. The airlock cycled slowly, even in the atmosphere of the bay. Finally it slid open into the tiny cargo/lab area.

The locker that held his spacesuit was to the right, and the door to the living quarters next to that. The rest was for cargo, bins of every description.

Every Spacer-Joe was a miner and a trader. Miners filled their holds and any tow-behinds full of ore, packing every cranny of the ship full of trade goods.

You couldn't really carry much of any one thing. Most folks carried extra rations and a few light luxuries. Ferguson had stocked up on everything he could think of, as well as all the 'Goods Wanted' off the Spacer Boards.

He tripped the latch to his living quarters then stepped inside.

The sharp smell of plastic bit his sinuses, making his eyes water until he sneezed. There had been no effort made to conceal the fact that the interior was plastic. The soft blue plastic was comforting after all the dull gray of the cargo bay.

Inset lights cast odd shadows on the tiny kitchen and the bunks.

Then there was the latrine, a combination of toilet, shower and laundry room. He'd seen smaller ones in cut-rate motor-homes on Earth. He could turn around without bumping anything, so this was fine.

Beyond that was the cockpit, where the main computer was installed, although there were two other access terminals, one in the lab and one by the tiny desk by the bunk.

This particular ship was a two-man model. Supposedly it could sustain four adults, once the Life