Ivan watched the monitor as Olympus Station slowly receded. The Mad Astra accelerated at only one-tenth gee, but it could keep up the thrust for hours. During acceleration, the crew would have gravity along the ship’s axis, and would stick to the on-axis accommodations. According to the captain’s announcement, they would accelerate for four hours, then would shut down the engines and spin up the ship’s hab ring, coasting most of the way to their destination. The trip would take about three weeks.

Meanwhile, the crew was congregated in the on-axis common room. Aligned with the ship’s acceleration vector, the room allowed them to operate in artificial gravity, albeit the much-lower tenth-gee. It featured the same amenities as the hab-ring common room—coffee and other drink dispensers, auto-washer, food packs and heating unit, and bench tables to sit at. As with all rooms in the ship, the ceiling was painted in a lighter color than the carpet on the floor, to create a psychological impression of up and down.

Dante Aiello, the first mate, walked in. His stride, in the negligible gravity, resembled the gait from a dream sequence where one step covers twenty feet. Aiello, a doughy-faced middle-aged man, always seemed to wear a slightly surprised expression, as if the normal workings of the universe mystified him.

He looked around, his lips moving in a not-quite-silent count. Satisfied that everyone was present, he began poking at his tablet.

“Okay, assignments. Pritchard, Geiger, Todd, you’re on cargo inspection. Haul ass, we’ve got limited time before spin-up.”

Ivan and the two others jumped up—Ivan jumped too hard and had to do a push-down off the ceiling, to everyone’s amusement—and headed for the cargo bay. As they left the room, Ivan could hear Aiello continuing to hand out jobs.

* * *

Several days later, the pace of work hadn’t slackened. Today, Ivan had enjoyed a slightly more technical set of tasks, as the crew unshipped the mining robots and put them through diagnostics and setup.

Today’s shift had been especially back-breaking for those not used to detail work. Unpacking and test-assembling the mining robots was a finicky, picky duty that required you to hold a cramped position while making minute adjustments using toy-sized tools. Good work for elves or pixies.

A backward lean made Seth grunt as a vertebra audibly popped. Working his shoulders again he uttered a satisfied sigh as he verified that he’d successfully self-chiropracted.

Ivan shuddered theatrically. “Jeez, Seth, that makes me cringe.”

“Sorry, I’ve got a thing in my back that acts up. Lorenza and her stupid mining robots…”

“Quit’cher bellyaching,” Tenn interjected. “I’ve done tours where some of the robots weren’t working, and we had to do things manually. A little screwdriver work is nothing.”