Tycho finished his pre-flight check. A pain in the ass for sure but even a small tear would leave him to asphyxiate in the cold depths of space. Tycho locked himself into his Equus VII and hit the ignition switch. The bike was dirty from the constant exposure to comet dust, but it was his.

There was a loud hiss as the compressors kicked in and removed the air from the room followed by the grinding noise of the bay doors opening. Not waiting for the rest of his posse, Tycho kicked his Equus into gear and blasted into the cold deep of space. This far out the sun was nothing more than another bright star, so he would have to rely on his suit to provide him with warmth.

It was time for Tycho’s last comet drive, this time from Kuiper to the terraforming operation at Iapetus. A dangerous trek even if you don’t count rustlers he thought. He patted the mag-rifle attached to his Equus. And there were always rustlers.

He clicked on his com “John, Wayne, Billy! Get your sorry asses out here, we got a job to do!”