Chapter One: Sixteen Tons
"Some people say a man is made outta mud, A poor man's made outta muscle and blood, Muscle and blood and skin and bones, A mind that's a-weak and a back that's strong. You load sixteen tons, what do you get? Another day older and deeper in debt, St. Peter don't you call me, 'cause I can't go, I owe my soul to the company store." Hank Lewis bounced a baseball off the bulkhead with a loud ping before the artificial gravity sent it tumbling back to his hands. It was the only sound in the cockpit, save for the low, rumbling hum of the ship's ion engines. He glanced around the lonely cabin, sighed, and tossed the baseball into the air once more. I t hit the bulkhead with another loud ping and then returned to his hands. The ship's bridge, if you could call it that, was quaint. It had a small cab with enough seating for five behind the cockpit where Hank sat, a two-seater control setup for piloting and navigation. Hank currently had his feet...