The haul from the headsport in the Novies on Ganymede into Knockswell Junction on Io takes the average shipper six hours each way, not including the hour or so in port for customs. If he made good time and the transfer windows smiled upon him, Fred Hueller could have a friend of his in Knockswell grease the wheels and he could skip the traditional overnight stay on Io and sleep in his own bed. It's nice to sleep in your own bed on your own world, and if that meant that he had to pass up the bigger jobs for now, then so be it. Fred stiffened up at his console and let out a sigh, flicking through his daybook and marking shipments he wanted to follow up on, taking care to cross out any jobs that went any further out than Callisto. He had been trying out a different marking style with jobs, stars and crosses to mark different things, but that made his weekly transfer from his paper daybooks into the digital bookkeeping software far more fallible. That was apparent now that Hueller was cruising towards Saturn in a ship he had to rent specifically for this cargo and this haul, something his partner was keen to remind him in the note he had just finished sighing at before typing out a quick response.
Just waking up here, it does look like the avoidance computing will end up being useful, this route has me passing through the rings in a few hours while I have to be monitoring the braking to match whatever protocols this cargo platform is using out here. I have to figure out the startup process, when NAP offered this hauler I was expecting to have to watch the computer and do my own dodging, but I think I can skip the full insurance that they kept pushing and still babysit the braking protocols, the computer's rated for far worse. It'd still probably shit itself up against you and me out near the waystations but who wouldn't? Anyways, missing you, talk soon.
He read it over once, twice, then tapped send.