Between Mars and Jupiter, February, 2078, Tuesday…

Ricky had two hours and twenty minutes to live, approximately. That was when he would run out of air.

Born Ricardo Maldonado, he had been called Ricky most of his life. He considered that he had been more fortunate than many. His life had been one of adventure. He didn't regret one moment of it.

He had grown up in Los Angeles fascinated by anything and everything dealing with space exploration. It was not surprising that he gravitated into an occupation that had something to do with man's last frontier.

The big rigs plied their way between LEO and the outer planets like the truckers of the century before plied the roads of commerce. Out to the fledgling colonies and UNSA experimental stations with huge loads of supplies, then back with the rare ores and earths that a depleted Earth desperately needed to maintain a modern civilization ever more dependent on computers, robotics, and other technical marvels. It was a lonely haul most of the time with minimal crews and little to do. Except when there was an emergency.

Nemo Hartley had shut down the fusion torch that powered the immense ship when it was discovered that two warning sensors had gone off line. They were like landing gear lights on a plane - you wanted your warning sensors to be fully operational since they would tell you if there was instability in the plasma containment. And Nemo took no chances.