DY series interplanetary transport

DY-50 experimental transport

It is difficult to impart the value the Dinyan-Yoyodyne Conglomerate had upon the Terran entry into modern space travel without referencing the Augments. The in vitro-conceived super-humans—some who founded the multinational spacecraft corporation, as well as a large number of other technological, philosophical, and economic movements (and even states), in the late 20th century—were a major defining chapter in the Earth’s progress from a one-planet, socially-fragmented species into what could have been an empire built on the conflicts and conquests of a fascist authoritarian regime. Fortunately, not only for Earth but for the future Federation, the Humans overcame the lure of domination at the right historical moment, taking the opportunity of the technological impetus to begin developing into something far greater: a leading partner in the formation of a diplomatic alliance of numerous space-capable species with galactic influence.

Dinyan-Yoyodyne was one of the most public representations—though not overtly so—of the enhanced intellectual capabilities of the Augments. It burst on the scene with a massively heavy and reusable lift vehicle (the DY-T) and two experimental heavy space craft (the DY-50), as test platforms for a full series of vessels that would quickly overshadow the achievements of the Americans’ 10-year-old orbiter fleet. The craft were fueled by a liquid hydrogen-oxygen propellant, mixed with a proprietary compound that significantly reduced oxidation while also increasing chemical reactivity, providing a thrust exhaust ratio—in a reaction engine that was also proprietary—that far exceeded any system manufactured elsewhere on the planet.

The launch of the two vessels in quick succession from China’s Wenchang Launch Center shocked the other space-capable nations. Such a heavy craft launching to orbit with such a non-aerodynamic frame, more akin to a submarine than a launch vehicle, with such a small propellant section seemed simply impossible, yet it had been done. Yes, the craft could not get any further than low earth orbit (LEO) at launch, but—equally amazingly—the automation of the DY-T rocket that had launched only 24 hours earlier provided all the necessary fuel for the first DY-50, the Shuguang (Chinese for “Divine State”), to achieve high earth orbit (HEO), far in excess of any previous manned vessel not on a cislunar trajectory. As the Shuguang returned to LEO, the Shenzhou (“Divine Ship”) launched, refueled, and proceeded to complete a full cislunar flight path, with four orbits of the satellite, before also returning to LEO.

Neither ship could return to the surface of the planet, but they demonstrated a capability that had not existed outside of forty-year plans the more capable space agencies were only preparing. The ability to send a manned vessel to the moon at a delta-vee of 0.005c (~5,400,000 km/h) was quite simply earth-shattering. Over a period of mere weeks, concepts of lunar & Mars outposts, asteroidal mining, and even manned system exploration were advanced by decades. And despite the catapulting of the Chinese from a space-envious status to the premier space nation on the planet, Dinyan-Yoyodyne was not locked into that nation as its sole client. A production schedule was quickly and easily reached with the Indian Space Research Organization (ISRO), the nascent Korea Aerospace Research Institute (KARI), and the United States Air Force. Other nations held back, reticent to sign on to what was still (possibly) a dubious enterprise, then began rapidly investing in infrastructure that other organizations and corporations (most associated in one way or another with what would be identified as the Great Khanate) stepped up to provide. South America, Europe, Oceanic nations, and numerous regions of northern Africa began sprouting factories, laboratories, and training facilities to support the suddenly all-growth space industry. Craft production centers were built in India and the United States, with the Wenchang facility also exporting completed spacecraft for South Korean and other Eurasian use.

The DY-50s themselves remained active experimental platforms even as the first DY-100s launched onto their own missions a year later. The ships never hosted more than four Humans, and that only during crew turnovers, as they were very limited on creature comforts and life support. The arriving crews would access the ship from the dorsal capsule airlock on the port side of the forward section, with the capsule soon after departing with the relieved taikonauts. A reserve capsule was docked in the ventral bay for emergency purposes.

Unlike the later transports in the DY series, the ship never had the capacity to haul the familiar Type DY standardized cargo module, as it was only intended to prove the heavy launch vehicle concept. It did have an internal capacity for over 1,400 metric tons of cargo, accessible from a rudimentary area on the midsection, behind dorsal clamshell doors. An early conceptual auxiliary bay was included on the ventral side, but the obstruction by cargo containers on the production series precluded this location from being viable. On the DY-50, while the bay and associated airlock were functional, they were never utilized other than in an early mission structural test.

Another difference between the DY-50 and later ships in the series was the interplanetary drive. Unlike the DY-100 and its succeeding classes, this CALT-Z5 drive section was a permanent installation. Those first launches in 1989 proved the hypothesis that the production ships would need one propulsion system for achieving orbit and another for transiting away from Earth. However, the initial concept served as a hint of what would be revealed as the DY-B2 drive (as detailed in a later article).

The Shuguang and Shenzhou would perform many Earth-Lunar flights, first as mission tests, and later in reconnaissance flights of potential landing zones on Luna. However, by 1991, the DY-Ts were no longer routed to the orbiting vessels for resupply services and at the end of the year, the final crews departed via the emergency escape capsules. The ships were maintained in stable orbits for another three years, before being de-orbited by automated routines on vectors to Earth’s spacecraft cemetery in the South Pacific Ocean Uninhabited Area.

DY-100 interplanetary transport

In what would appear to have been a bit of brilliant marketing by Dinyan-Yoyodyne to demonstrate its open-market nature—in light of the sudden awareness of Chinese launch technology with the DY-50—the rights to the first DY-100 interplanetary transport were sold to the Indian Space Research Organization (ISRO) in 1989. With a targeted invitation and complete openness by their Sino hosts, the Indian leadership, accompanied by their space technologists, were quick to accept ownership of the next generation vessel well underway in the construction bay, with a surprisingly minimal markup. The first launch would have to, by necessity, be from Wenchang, but a menu of pre-planned missions was provided to the ISRO, with a rapid and targeted training regime for each of their space corps candidates. The agency chose a cislunar mission for their trial run.

The sale of the Sahasrara (Hindi for “Thousand Petals”) to the Indians was the kernel of a revolutionary business concept, where space was an international “sandbox” for commercial purposes, without the decades of intergovernmental competition that had stifled near-Earth development. The question as to why the Chinese did not immediately nationalize Dinyan-Yoyodyne, to prevent the use of the company’s space technology by other nations and provide itself an enormous technological and economic advantage, has never been satisfyingly answered. A strong theory is that the emerging network of the (yet unrealized) Augments recognized the opportunities that came with a much larger client base. How they came to have this leverage over the authoritarian Chinese regime is still debated, but if similar dealings with other governments, corporations, and individuals are of any enlightenment, targeted corruption played a large part in providing the Great Khanate the early upper hand.

Similar sales were made to the United States and South Korea, with their own ships being delivered in 1991 and 1992, respectively, following China’s own acceptance of the second and third vessels to be built. Dinyan-Yoyodyne was open to the construction of production centers in India (at the Satish Dhawan Space Centre) and the United States (at Kennedy Space Center and at a USAF spacecraft construction facility in California), from which those two countries built most of their remaining orders, for a total fleet number of 4 and 6, respectively. Between 1989 and 1996 (when the Great Khanate fell, taking most of Dinyan-Yoyodyne’s proprietary production facilities with them), seven DY-100s (known as Kaitòuzhe) were built for the Chinese, two (Iskra) for the South Korean’s KARI, four (Vayu) for India, and six (Copernicus) for the American air force. The Great Khanate reserved one for their own use (built in 1994), for a total production of 20 first-run interplanetary transports.

Another opportunity presented to the client states by the Great Khanate, headlined by the brilliant and charming technologist Khan Noonian Singh, was the spaceborne industry which he pitched to them with great grandiosity. Orbiting construction platforms—initially similar in features to the international Space Station Freedom, but with extensive lattices and gantries—would serve to build super-capable ships of exploration and resource gathering; space stations could be built to serve extensive numbers of purposes, such as zero-gravity material fabrication, pharmaceutical development, and platforms for habitation. The stalled Deep Space Gateway, orbiting the moon, could be completed in short order with the DY-100s, and Dinyan-Yoyodyne‘s more specialized follow-on designs. Darkside, deep space-focused telescopes, lunar mining sites, and “moon towns” on the “shores” of Mare Tranquillitatis itself were now a potential reality within the near future.

Of course, while all these goals were achieved, it was without the Great Khanate leading the way, as the historical record is understood. However, the craft with which these were to be delivered was indeed an incredibly capable vessel for its time. While the DY-50s were an experimental testing of the launch capabilities of Dinyan-Yoyodyne and the general space worthiness of the unconventional hullform, the DY-100 proved sustainability and range—equipped with fission reactors for power and propulsion—instead of massive batteries and chemical reactant thrust. Also, unlike the relative light weight of a 2,200-metric ton test spacecraft, the triple-rocket DY-A1 launch booster was lifting both a 2,700-ton transport and the additional 7,552 tons of cargo in the 16 detachable Type DY cargo containers (though these were not fully-laden launch-tested until the delivery of the Chinese Mìngyùn in 1991).

With the initial vessels, the launch booster would be detached upon achieving orbit and allowed to burn up in the atmosphere. The ship would maneuver, on RCS thrusters, to mate with the DY-B series interplanetary drive—delivered to a shared orbit previously by a DY-T heavy launch vehicle—providing the DY-100 with the massive and capable fission power systems installed within the module. At this point, the 12-person crew had a complete vessel on their hands, with any destination within 6-months travel a possibility, and capable of achieving 0.01c, given enough time for acceleration and a minimum mass load.

Most vessels engaged in early exploration and construction missions to Luna or resource scouting in the Main belt. In either case, the ventral bay on the bow of the DY housed an auxiliary craft appropriate for the destination: the lunar lander, reminiscent of the previous Apollo series (but fully capable of lunar surface launches), could carry 2 crew and 2 passengers to the surface. The asteroidal landers had grappling hooks on winches, to assist the minute but precise chemical thrusters in getting the miners secured to their target. Specifically for early lunar base construction tasks, the DY would deliver a lunar tug in place of one of the sixteen cargo containers; the tug was capable of delivering 4 of the containers to the low-gravity lunar surface. The tug would remain behind, shuttling cargo up and down between the base and future visiting transports.

The DY-100 had 68 metric tons of internal cargo space, providing plenty of sustenance and spare parts for a one-year round-trip mission. If the mission was delivery of construction materials or base supplies, the crew would have little need to linger on station; time is money, after all, and as ground- and orbital-based industry began picking up, the ship would not have to wait long at Earth to begin another run. They could—theoretically—soft-land on large asteroids or the moons Phobos or Deimos, but not on Luna or Earth itself. Additional fissionable materials and reactants for thrusters would be provided by resupply DY-Ts or the stations from which the vessels took their cargo. Between 1990 and 1995, the rate of orbital launches (of the newest transport ships and DY-T resupply missions) increased by 200% annually.

Details on the final dispensation of the DY-100s are sparse, due to the extreme violence and levels of destruction the planet would suffer over the coming decades. “Salting the earth” was a repeated practice by the Augments when they saw their individual domains rapidly slip from their fingers, with the DY ship production facilities destroyed decidedly and with little chance of immediate recovery. This would set the Humans’ interplanetary capabilities back to almost 1988 levels. The scientists of Delhi had just perfected the first practical long-term cryogenic sleep technology to allow “safe” use by living beings; however, this went unannounced in the growing chaos, with the early achievement only realized when the SS Botany Bay was discovered lightyears downrange in the Mutara Sector, 270 years later. The remaining first-run DY-100s would serve various roles—generally military in nature—close to Earth, as the various competing nations seized what Dinyan-Yoyodyne assets they could.

Limited interplanetary drives would quickly emerge from the working models the space agencies would spare for reverse engineering, but it would not be until 2021 when the series re-entered production. Russia, the core member of the Eurasian Confederation, had uncovered D-Y production plans for the spacecraft in Baikonur two years previously, and ramped up the Eurasian Confederation Space Agency’s production and launch capacities precipitously. China was provided the plans in a trade agreement and by 2023, the United States—working with D-Y offshoot Yoyodyne Propulsion Systems—had them as well. No later than 2028, China had five additional DY-100s, the United States 12, and the ECSA operated 21. Ground-based production of large spacecraft had transitioned to the various space platforms in orbit of Earth, positioned at the trailing L-5 point, or above Luna and the less gravity-restrictive conditions had seen the introduction of vessels either directly descended from the DY-100 series, or working off entirely independent design concepts.

Laden with 5 container pods

Laden with 10 container pods

Fully laden with 16 container pods

DY-110 Apex mission spacecraft

The most that can be surmised regarding the intent for the DY-110 Apex mission spacecraft is the twelve ships were intended to actively progress the Great Khanate’s interplanetary agenda, which itself can only be theorized as to dominate non-Augment Humanity and push the species onto the interstellar stage. Few records exist to detail what the Apex took part in; only the ship names and destinations are available as complete documents.

Naval historians naturally used the comparative method as a means of teasing out the truth: in what ways was the Apex different than the DY-100 on which it was based? Very similar in silhouette, the Apex had a slightly more streamlined look on the conning tower. Most striking was the midsection: where the DY-100 had adhesion plates to accommodate 16 DY-style cargo pods, the latter vessel was limited to a maximum of five. Instead, the forward dorsal pod space, as well as the aft eight connections, made way for added craft superstructure that included about 16 more meters of length. These additions only saw a surprisingly meager 80 metric tons to the overall vessel’s dry mass.

So, at the cost of 68% of its cargo capacity, what did these modifications provide? To be certain, the crew size was doubled, and—as is understood well after the period of the Eugenics Wars—they were all Augments. A radar-controlled missile launch tube, loaded with 10 fragmentation warheads, was installed at the forward base of the tower and a space-modified defensive close-in weapons system—with 2,000 high-explosive rounds—deployed from a hatch on the mid-section, above the cargo pods. The vessels did not appear to be equipped with cryochambers; only SS Botany Bay was proven centuries later to have that technology. But cryochambers were not necessary, as the Apexes never even ventured out as far as the Main belt, limited to round-trip voyages from Earth to Mars or Venus. Those voyages were prolonged by undecipherable loiter times on station to do what? Build permanent presences seems the most likely answer: it was Augments who first stepped foot on Mars in late 1993, immediately setting forth not on exploration, but the construction of a surface base and adding long-term features, such as a large fission plant.

Manned Venus landings were, very surprisingly for the technological capabilities of the time, conducted in 1994. Unlike past human endeavors, the Augments did not publicize either of these historic achievements, but did confirm them when their rumors were reported upon weeks later. However, maybe the Venusian landings can explain the modified form of the Apex, because there is little doubt the landing craft could not make a second trip to the surface without a tremendous degree of overhaul, as the excessive heat and crushing atmospheric pressure would take their toll. It is possible the ships had workshops that provided the overhaul capacity.

It is unlikely we will ever get the chance to examine an authentic DY-110. Two of the three that were in Earth orbit during the fall of the Great Khanate were destroyed in the attempt, while the last was so damaged in its escape that it could not decelerate upon its arrival at Mars, devastatingly impacting the surface at speed. Five maintained their positions above their respective planets (two above Venus, three Mars), until well after the capability to support human life had passed, also eventually succumbing to destructive orbits as late as 2008. The remaining four never returned to Earth and it is presumed they were lost at any of a number of places, possibly including the Main belt.

Fully laden with 5 container pods

DY-120 Brenton mission spacecraft

In 2018, most of the original production vessels of the DY-100 series were still in operational use, with the few exceptions of the orbital “drydock queens” being harvested for spare parts. The figurative implosion of Dinyan-Yoyodyne (D-Y) in 1996 had been almost total and while some near-common parts could be machined by other producers, the complete systems of a super-durable and launch-capable spacecraft were beyond the means of any other shipbuilder (as if that term could describe any corporation other than the now-historical D-Y).

Not that the setback was simply accepted. The four DY-equipped nations still had their small flotillas of interplanetary transports and they were being utilized almost non-stop on lunar and belt runs for resource gathering. Orbital construction was the new boom; the existing lunar colonies were primarily devoted to gathering the resources of that body to assist in creating a spaceborne shipbuilding industry in orbit of Earth, at the leading and trailing LaGrange points, and above Luna. Life in space—and relatively easy travel between system points—was not theoretical any longer, but something to re-achieve.

And while China, India, South Korea, and the United States were still somewhat non-collaborative in their space agendas, a network of commercial enterprises supporting the DY-100s—and re-developing the past advanced interplanetary capability—had sprung up both on the ground and in the space habitats that had been established as cooperative efforts between governments and corporations. For example, in the intervening years, the NASA Afrodite spacecraft and the joint NASA/ESA Aventeur missions had all been launched largely because of the efforts of the commercial industry that had sprouted in the wake of the Eugenics Wars. They had not yet grown to the level of the Augment-led achievements of Dinyan-Yoyodyne, but they aspired to, and they knew it would happen. The same corporate conglomerations were largely responsible for the establishment of the International Space Agency (ISA) by the New United Nations (NUN) in 2018, to help coordinate and elicit cooperation from the slightly-reticent national space services.

The nations that had not been privy to Dinyan-Yoyodyne’s production schedule were left out of interplanetary missions, but not the space industry itself. The same corporations that had sought to influence the space advancement of the post-Eugenics War era recognized that many of these states held the key to re-discovering the technologies that had been lost. With similar consideration, in 1996, Russia—amidst the chaos of the Augments’ frantic throes—surprised the world’s leading nations by announcing the creation of the Eurasian Confederation (EC), an economic and technological alliance of former Soviet states dedicated to securing their share of the world’s natural resources and working together to take their place on the orbital stage. Over the next few years, the Eurasian Confederation demonstrated the capacity to provide conventional launch and production facilities out of Baikonur in support of the orbital construction efforts.

The EC, even before its unveiling, had been in early negotiations with the Great Khanate for the purchase of its own interplanetary assets. This, obviously, did not come to pass before the culmination of the Eugenics Wars, but preliminary surveys had been started to prepare Baikonur to become the fifth locus for Dinyan-Yoyodyne production facilities. In the EC’s drive to re-develop their own space industry, an important discovery had been made: a former D-Y satellite office at the cosmodrome included an encrypted drive with specific plans for the machining and assembly of the DY-100 interplanetary transport. It took almost twenty years for enough of the drive to be decrypted, but in 2019 the EC announced that the DY-100 would be under production once more, for sale or by license.

To say there was a great deal of interest would be an understatement. The EC though, unlike the Augments before them, chose to employ their monopoly to direct economic advantage: while licenses would be immediately available, they would be at a premium cost. Additionally, actual production of the DY-100s at Baikonur would be on a schedule that placed the needs of the Eurasian Confederation Space Agency (ECSA) first, rationalized as allowing the alliance to “catch up” with the other interplanetary nations. Not willing to wait until 2023 or later, only licenses were procured from the EC and the remaining assembly facilities in China and the United States were re-opened and refitted for accelerated production.

The Royal Republic of Korea (RRK), formed from the reunification of the peninsula in 2003, took a different path than ground production: it allied itself with Yoyodyne Propulsion Systems (YPS)—a surviving subsidiary of D-Y—and several other corporations with access to spaceborne construction facilities. They began designing an updated variant of the DY-100, which they designated the DY-120. This was immediately challenged in the New United Nations’ International Court by the EC as an abuse of the license. However, YPS was able to defend their legal claim to continue development of the DY-B fission-powered ion thruster module and that the module was capable of powering and propelling a much more proficient craft than the ones the EC was offering.

The DY-120, the first commercial ship to be built in space, could transport a cargo load 50% greater than the DY-100, by lengthening the mid-section and adding an additional eight DY type cargo pods, for a total of 24. Yoyodyne’s booster module, the YPS-B2, was clearly related to the original DY-B2 but with larger heat radiators. As the original had no issues with heat, it was speculated within the industry that the change was to support YPS’ claim to be improving the module, but actual advancement of the thrust capacity projected a top speed of a very impressive 0.11c. One important innovation was the cargo pod stability monitor array (CPSMA), which queried the cargo load for flight integrity via active sensors against the available manifest and would automatically recalibrate when pods were authorized for removal from any of the number of controlling stations onboard the ship. Station-keeping reaction control systems and the ion thrusters adjusted according to these changes, allowing pods to be jettisoned in an emergency even during transit, without throwing the vessel into an uncontrolled spin.

While the DY-100 saw an additional 38 vessels constructed and launched from Baikonur, Wenchang, and White Sands, the DY-120 was termed “a moderate success”, with over 400 vessels sold to governments, corporations, and the not-so-idle rich; not a single one was constructed on Earth.

Previous space agencies, in utilizing the DY-100s and -120s, had developed national agendas for their national assets, some of which dovetailed a little too nicely with some corporate agendas, while others—such as the ESA and NASA, did endeavor to use them not only for building orbital structures and industry, but also exploration and science. However, it was the ISA, founded by the NUN in 2018, that saw a looming demand for a vessel to be used for search and rescue, as well as law and regulation enforcement. Subsidized not only by the NUN, but also corporations and nations that recognized the wisdom in being able to recover their expensive assets—and their spacefarers, of course—Yoyodyne assembled, starting in 2023, a variant of the civilian DY-120 transport for the ISA.

The first and most eye-drawing feature of the Brenton were the 18 bright-red Type T fuel cells adorning each perspective of the vessel. Just as with all other interplanetary craft preceding it, the SAR ships relied on the slow-but-faithful ion thrusters to achieve maximum range at considerable speed; however, due to the nature of their mission, the reaction control thrusters saw considerable use—even over-use—as the ships maneuvered within “walking” range of their target vessels, or otherwise negotiated around an obstacle or away from a particular threat (such as debris). Whereas the ion thrusters could easily operate for years without refueling, the thrusters required reaction chemicals and had to be relied upon to operate when required. The T-cells provided in excess of 55 multiples of the fuel amount a standard transport could expect to use between destinations of call, but—statistically—only about four times what a Brenton would use on a patrol.

Another significant difference between the civilian DY-120 and the Brenton was the cargo pods: it had none. Instead, what appeared to be 15 DY-type cargo containers was one entire unremovable superstructure, with an added “cap” over the dorsal midsection serving as the equivalent to another manned deck. This structure provided the operational capability via mission spaces set aside for rescue and salvage equipment, additional storage for replenishment oxygen, berthing (and a brig) for rescued spacers, and common spare parts for vessels that just needed that “one” component in order to be mobile and on their way again. The midsection spaces also included a total of six cargo bay doors, four for typical pod access, one large one for oversize equipment, and a dedicated pod-sized hatch directly adjacent to the ship’s enlarged sickbay. The port and starboard would each have three re-chargeable light-scattering glass bead emitters added as defensive measures, when laser weaponry started to be encountered not only on military craft, but also on civilian ships that might not take too kindly to a ship of the law.

The electronic counter measures systems expected of a militarized vessel were mounted on a steerable pod installed ventrally just aft of the bow, with an electronic counter-counter measures suite providing a nearly 360/180 degree field of view situated on top of the conning tower. The shuttlebay typically found within the bow of a DY-series was replaced by additional avionics and communications gear.

At least 31 named ships have been found in reviews of the available historical records.

DY-135 Black Mamba mission spacecraft

In 2037, the DY-120 interplanetary transport had been in production by Yoyodyne Propulsion Systems (YPS) for seventeen years, achieving an understated “moderate success”, with “moderate” apparently defined as “anything less than complete market presence”. With over 400 ships of the class plying the interior system transport lanes, one would presumably feel confident that such numbers would describe the entirety of the Terran collective flotilla. However, the competitive arena established by the state shipbuilding industry of the Eastern Coalition (formed in 2031 from the Eurasian Confederation and an alliance with the nations of China, India, Iran, Japan, Korea, Pakistan, Singapore, and Vietnam) and that of the Western Alliance members had allowed for the exploration of a large number of ion-propelled ship designs. These vessels were often seemingly individualized, ranging from small cislunar ferries to large rubble-hauling freighters, all quite different from the series ships previously produced by Dinyan-Yoyodyne and now by YPS.

These varied and multitudinous utility ships were a business threat, because each one could do anything the DY-120 could do far better, though few could rival the DY-120 in adaptability to most any mission. Nonetheless, commerce was buying the type of ships that fit immediate commercial needs and at the acquisition cost that best allowed the most rapid maximization of profits. In order to stay relevant, YPS corporate decided to build a ship that had all the dependability of the DY series, but would excel at the targeted industrial sector.

The first sector to be considered was asteroid mining. It had, by far, the most growth potential and YPS envisioned that the advantage their standardized container pods—combined with scheduled routes by freight transport companies—would immediately create a demand for a specialized mining transport vessel of the DY brand. Just after the mid-year, the first DY-130 interplanetary transport was leased to Maersk Space Freight, with an additional two committed to that line. The vessel’s container pods were nearly identical to that of the earlier Type DY containers (now designated as Series One), but far larger: each could hold over 2,100 metric tons of ore, more than 4.5 times that of the Series One pod. Each vessel could haul 15 of these pods, for a total of 32,010 metric tons.

By the time the last ship of the first production run (the SS Black Mamba) was nearing completion, the DY-130’s story appeared abruptly completed. Maersk had encountered several ship maneuvering problems from the immediate operations of their three ships: when even partially loaded, the reaction thrusters were proving incapable of maintaining positive control of the ship’s flight profile, most notably when approaching loading and unloading stations. A few allisions with minimal damage occurred in 74% of restricted maneuvering operations in the first 10 months alone, with any catastrophes avoided sheerly on the experience of the ships’ crews. Maersk threatened to sue for release from their 15-year contract and all interest from other commercial sources dried up within a few weeks.

The International Space Agency (ISA), operating under the mandate of the New United Nations (NUN), investigated. While their primary concern was in regards to the safe operation of spacecraft, they were equally concerned with the future of Yoyodyne, an otherwise trusted and critical shipbuilding partner for ISA and other governmental operations. During the investigation, the reaction control systems were proven to not only be extremely underpowered for the mass of a loaded ore hauler, but also poorly placed to handle a shifting center of mass problem, a common issue for loose ore under a dynamic speed delta. The two solutions—refitting an entirely new series of thrusters or redesigning a much smaller cargo component—were just not feasible, especially for a class of ship that had already been identified as a disaster-in-waiting. Instead, with a corporate-saving contract from the New United Nations, Yoyodyne Propulsion Systems went back to the drawing board to design a new interplanetary vessel, based upon the inquiry’s results. The ISA would guarantee the safety of this class (the DY-140) by being the first to take receipt of 12 vessels for modernized search and rescue missions.

But that was not the end of the DY-130. The ISA, working with Yoyodyne, took possession of the Black Mamba and began a fully-subsidized refit that would incorporate the investigation’s suggestions of relieving the ship of its enormous and unstable cargo load and redesigning the thruster system. In place of the enormous Series Two container pods, a much less massive and permanent semi-circular superstructure was added onto the main hull. Though not as extensive or internally large as the same structure on the aging DY-120 Brentons, the six repurposed vessels did have two hatches for repair equipment and cargo access, an adequate medical bay, emergency quarters for rescued spacers, a ventral hanger bay for three Class A3 “Zent Mark II” EVA pods, and eight Type T fuel cells.

For all intents and purposes, the ISA seemed to have designed itself a modernized search and rescue craft, but one that paled in comparison to the DY-140 Helsinki class that had debuted three years earlier. Instead, the six Black Mambas performed as up-gunned law enforcement vessels (in another of the ISA’s wide net of mandates), helping ensure that the small corporate flare-ups between asteroid miners or the smuggling/piracy operations of struggling independent tramp freighters, was kept in check. The DY-135s sported what was hoped to be a completely unnecessary Mark II nuclear missile launch system, with 36 warshots, and four forward-firing prototypes of the forthcoming Sorac 0.36, a 90-megawatt laser emitter that outclassed any other medium-powered spacecraft-mounted laser systems. While the prototypes proved to be about 20% larger than would be produced just six years later, and generated an enormous amount of heat, they could cause a respectable amount of destruction upon any spacecraft hull, as was very publicly demonstrated upon a target meteoroid of not insignificant-size.

Due to the tensions between the Eastern Coalition (ECON) and the Western Alliance-dominated NUN, the Black Mamba craft proved to be problematic due to their existence alone. The mounting of such overpowered lasers might have been forgiven in a law enforcement role, but the inclusion of nuclear weapons on the vessels proved ECON fears that the post-Swarm militarization of space was a credible threat to their interests. Regardless of the limited numbers of the mission spacecraft and despite its troubled origin, the ISA’s police vessels were consistently tracked and reported by all ECON-affiliated vessels as potential aggressors; anytime they showed up with the intent of conflict de-escalation, ECON defense forces elevated their response alert status. The vessels were priority targets in the infamous days of May 2053.

DY-140 Helsinki mission spacecraft

The International Space Agency (ISA) developed—in its mandate as an intergovernmental coordinator of space activities—the mission of search and rescue, with the DY-120 Brentons performing the majority of those tasks rather sufficiently. The vessel class had been selected, partially, because of the strength of the ship construction firm behind it, Yoyodyne Propulsion Systems (YPS), which increased the confidence for ongoing support and future material development. However, that support worked as a two-way street; the New United Nations (NUN) understood that YPS would need to have confidence in the continued business of governmental agencies, most certainly that of the ISA, in order to commit to building repair and construction facilities that might otherwise be more profitable when focused on commercial sectors. That relationship was tested by the events surrounding the DY-130 debacle.

In late 2037, the ISA grandly announced the full funding of 12 yet-undeveloped future search and rescue vessels to gradually replace the aging and well-worked Brentons. Additionally, the contract provided a partnership with YPS that would jointly design a line of vessels continuing from the mission spacecraft production run into a commercial passenger transport utilizing the exact same hull and engineering layouts, loaning the prestige and confidence of the ISA to the ship builder. To the world, the NUN was proclaiming that it had enough faith in YPS—despite the very public blow to the company’s design reputation—to rely on a future DY series vessel for its astronautical safety agency and the lives of spacefarers throughout the inner system.

The investigation into the ship handling failures of the DY-130 very clearly shined a spotlight on two major contributing factors: the inadequacy of the reaction control system for a vessel of that size and the chaotic center of mass problem associated with hauling large individualized containers of asteroidal ore. With those issues in mind, the DY-140 Helsinki was built around the traditional submarine hull of the DY series with an extended structure—alluding to but not indicating actual standardized cargo containers—from the ventral and wrapping partially up along both sides. This provided additional work, living, and combat system spaces for the vessel, without allowing too much emphasis on cargo hauling capacity. The ship made use of a much more powerful ion reaction drive, necessitating a nozzle-like radiation barrier that guided the more dangerous particles astern.

Defensive weapons were limited to the standard glass beam emitters, four running along both sides of the hull extension with an extremely long emitter along the ventral; this provided a rather broad emission “curtain” when deployed. Ship commanders were instructed to focus their initial protective actions with the activation of this emitter first by rolling the ship, essentially creating a shimmering spectacle of laser-deflecting beads that confidently demonstrated the ineffectiveness of any anti-ship laser usage. The smaller emitters were secondary in nature, reserved for the time-intensive reloading period of this main bank.

Offensively, the Helsinki was well-prepared. Three Roosevelt system rail guns, each with 25 rounds, extended from the cowl structure. Laser systems were initially considered, but it was felt too many turrets would have to be emplaced about the hull to be effective in the present era of reflective armor and anti-laser glass shield systems, and that would make the vessel more of a gunboat than a force for peace. The rail guns were also seen as rather provocative in their brutish presentation, but heat and size limitations prevented them from being any more embedded within the ship than eventually established. The use of three was also a debatable point, but in the end, it was decided that the long reload period and relative undependability of the systems meant having “one more” would be justified if one was already down for maintenance or repair when action was deemed necessary.

The Helsinkis certainly elevated the ISA’s response capabilities from those of the Brentons, which were shifted to near-Earth duties in the safety and welfare inspection realm. Internally, the vessels were considerably less adaptable than their predecessors as the interior spaces were not as modular in nature, though much more secure, with thicker inner and outer hulls and additional compartmentalization. Crew sizes were identical (at 33), but the Helsinkis could only carry less than half of the emergency passenger complement (though with twice the medical capacity). Three smaller cargo bays each held one Class A3 “Zent Mk II” EVA pod. However, the craft’s true advantage was in response time: with a top speed twice that of the DY-120 and an acceleration that was observable, the ship could provide the heavy and/or comforting presence of the ISA wherever it was needed rapidly.

Over fifty commercial versions of the DY-140 followed the 12th and final Helsinki. The passenger transports were equipped like the opulent cruise liners of the oceans 80 years prior, though many of those purchased were used to beef up existing ferry lines to Mars. As the distance between Earth and the red planet lengthened over the solar year, additional ships would be phased in, to keep shift workers on the job at the various colonies sprouting up. In the shortened periods of the year, the same ships would take miners out to the Main Belt and back, with a handful of them dedicated to providing the astronautical experience for cruising tourists.

DY series booster modules

The Dinyan-Yoyodyne Conglomerate is most well-known for its DY-100 interplanetary transport, the “flagship” heralding Humankind’s transition from low Earth orbit to a permanent presence on Luna, the Main belt, even Mars and Venus. There is little doubt that the transport’s production greatly elevated the degree of space technology with which the planet’s various cultures explored and exploited the wealth of their near-local orbital paths. However, what often goes overlooked is the tremendous developments in booster technology that allowed the Humans to break enormous mass free of the planetary gravity well, long before the advent of anti-gravitics.

DY-T heavy launch vehicle

In early 1989, with zero intelligence and no other warning, China became a space power at a scale neither Russia nor the United States could immediately match. That morning, a massive heavy launch vehicle roared off the pad at Wenchang. From 1967, the American Saturn V held the record as the world’s tallest, heaviest, and most powerful rocket ever brought to operational status; it could not compare to the Dinyan-Yoyodyne DY-T on any of those metrics, nor the important ones concerning operational capability or cost.

With a height of 226.5 meters, a diameter of 68.4 meters and a dry mass of 27,662 metric tons, the DY-T was over twice as tall, almost seven times as wide, and 9.3 times heavier than the Saturn V. For a rocket known to tower over any observer, impressing with its sheer grandness, the Saturn itself was now towered over by the privately-owned retro-styled DY-T. The associated surprise of China’s catapulting ahead of all other space nations aside, the sheer lift capacity of the vessel—claimed to be over 75,500 metric tons—had to be a complete fiction compared to the proven capacity of the standard 140 tons of the American rocket. However, it wasn’t fiction and that would be proven over dozens and dozens of launches from sites worldwide over the next few years.

Granted, the rocket’s primary mission was a far easier load than maximum capacity; the rocket was designed with the diameter to transport the in-development interplanetary drives to a low-earth orbit. But the DY-T was perfectly capable of performing other transport missions, when it was properly configured. As with the DY-B1 chemical reactant thrust module/drone, Dinyan-Yoyodyne had every intention of retaining ownership of these craft to provide services—refueling, earth-to-orbit freight, etcetera—to the company’s intended client base, the operators of the DY series of interplanetary transports. In fact, especially at the start of this endeavor, those very capable transports absolutely required a support structure to provide them the cargo, fuel, and other support requirements that these heavy launch vehicles readily delivered.

And that is where the second important criteria came into play: cost. Not only was the DY-T a massive leap forward in launch capacity, but it was also re-usable. Powered by the proprietary and colossal DY-RS74 main engine and the four—also exceptionally large—DY-RS47 maneuvering engines, the rocket could achieve a thrust of 1.55 KPS (5,560 kph) by burning a chemical reactant that was a closely held secret (even from the Chinese government). Not only was the launch vehicle a single-stage-to-orbit design, it was also capable of achieving the desired low orbit with enough fuel to spare to conduct re-entry and return-to-launch sequences. Never before had such a feat even been designed, much less attempted and accomplished. The magnitude of advances in thrust, computing, design, lift capacity: it was bewildering, completely unforeseen, and, yet, irrefutable. And the utility of the design was also beyond dispute: within days, the DY-50 experimental transport Shuguang lifted off from Wenchang, met the DY-T (designated T-01) in orbit, took on fuel, and then boosted to a high-earth orbit. T-01 remained in low orbit to provide fuel to the arriving Shenzhou and then again to the returning Shuguang, before going back to Earth.

Twelve DY-Ts were assembled and launched from several contracted launch facilities around the world, completely overseen and maintained by their Dinyan-Yoyodyne operators. Originally, each was intended to be completely configurable to the next launch mission’s requirements, be it for refueling, delivery of construction materials and supplies to the construction crews building the new space structures, or sending aloft the returning-to-service DY-B1 booster drones and new ion interplanetary drives (two of either one per launch). However, as the last DY-T entered service, it was decided that keeping each lift vehicle in a specific configuration allowed for quicker turnaround, ensuring the various mission rosters were fully supported. The phenomenal international cooperation being demonstrated extended to the sharing of the modified launch schedules and vehicles.

As national space budgets ballooned—the economic benefits promised to more than pay for them—this service angle by Dinyan-Yoyodyne proved to be a “cash cow”. The company was now well-enough established to begin the commercial phase of the Great Khanate’s plan, wherein corporate conglomerates would be prompted to take advantage of the same services, without any risk to DY of being sidelined by competition. The tight security on the protected intellectual property provided a sense of confidence and pride in their products and services, and most employees felt a sense of destiny in leading Humanity forward into the future.

Unfortunately for the company, as the Khanate fell in 1996 the full scope of what could be carrying Dinyan-Yoyodyne’s brand out past the asteroid belt would not be realized. The company would be shattered by the self-serving destruction of the Eugenics Wars, though rebuilt in the following years in much smaller incarnations by nations encumbered with enormous debt from funding under-realized space plans and driven to re-achieve that level of space presence.

CALT-Z5 launch/trans-orbital booster

Unlike follow-on launch boosters, the CALT-Z5 was an integral and permanent component of the DY-50 experimental transport preceding the DY-100. On one hand, the system was not at all the dominant feature of the bizarre submarine-style spacecraft; on the other, something that diminutive in relation to the orbital load should have easily been half the story-of-the-day. Comprising the final 39.8 meters of the 125.5-meter long ship, there was nothing to suggest the massive breakthrough the corporation had achieved in both the reactive power of the chemical reactant nor the proprietary engines that turned that mixture into a thrust exhaust ratio never before witnessed. Equally amazing was the realization that the small-scale single-stage-to-orbit booster was also a primary drive for trans-orbital propulsion. After achieving orbit, both the Shuguang and the Shenzhou refueled from the orbiting DY-T; their individual CALT-Z5 boosters re-ignited to propel them on to high-earth orbit and cislunar trajectories, respectively. Other than expected maintenance and usage-related issues, the two individual booster systems would operate dependably for back-to-back missions over two years.

DY-A1 launch booster

The DY-A1 launch system is—probably—the least examined component of the early Dinyan-Yoyodyne products, as its operational period was extremely short and it was replaced by far more capable systems. Nevertheless, it was an evolutionary step forward for the corporation, in that, the amazing performance of the CALT-Z5 aside, there was now the expectation of launching cargo containers—with both massive weight and aerodynamic drag concerns—with the serviced DY-100 vessel, as a complete package. The ability to launch a maximum cargo capacity of over 7,500 metric tons (within 16 containers) would be a goal reached incrementally over time, and by meeting the interplanetary booster module in orbit, the first DY-100 launches could carry five containers (and almost 2,400 tons) on the vessel’s maiden voyage aloft. It was a far more impressive sales pitch to see a container-laden DY-100 lift off from Wenchang, and so the DY-A1 was attached to the stern of the vertically-positioned ship. The triple boosters, each weighing almost 2,000 tons, appeared small in relative size to their launch load (the partially-laden DY-100), when compared to the massive rockets the Americans and Russians used to launch their much smaller orbital loads. However, the rate the launch vehicle climbed (after clearing the tower) was stunningly obvious.

DY-A2 launch booster

Dinyan-Yoyodyne’s consistent goal was to increase the amount of cargo which a new DY-100 could carry into orbit. The company—and its partners—were adamant that the true value of the ship was the ability to divest itself of full cargo containers at their destinations, take on new containers, and return to the transport route as quickly as possible, and that it would do this constantly, throughout its service life—once it achieved orbit. The DY-T series of single-stage-to-orbit rockets would send up future cargo for follow-on transport, but there was something to be said to see your agency’s newly purchased interplanetary transport launch while laden with cargo. To that end, the DY-A2 launch boost assembly was introduced in 1991. The four single-stage DY-LS IV rockets, each equipped with a DY-RS5C main engine, were mated to a shared assembly attachment frame. Their combined thrust used a faux DY-B2 module, attached to the stern of the DY-100, to propel the vessel from sea-level to low-earth orbit. The combination assembly, capable of lifting the 2,720 metric ton vessel and almost 3,800 tons of cargo (in eight containers), would be detached once orbit was achieved, to burn up upon re-entry.

DY-A3 launch booster

In 1994, the DY-A3 launch boost assembly was introduced, to lift what would be the final production run of the DY-100s and their DY-110 Apex cousins. By this time, there was no need to impress potential client agencies with the capabilities of the transports, but Dinyan-Yoyodyne maintained the objective of launching 10,272 metric tons of spacecraft and fully-loaded cargo containers for the sheer mastery of the challenge. Additionally, with such a capable launch boost system, the 780-ton DY-B2 interplanetary module—previously married in orbit—could now be attached on the ground, saving both a preceding DY-T launch and several days of orbital preparation, prior to the first transport run. Operated exactly as the DY-A2, this booster stood out with its six DY-RS5E engine-equipped rockets mated onto a more spacious attachment frame, connected directly to the propulsion module. The plan was to use this heavy lift capability for a few years, until orbital, lunar, and asteroidal production facilities made Earth a less-viable alternative source of spacecraft. However, their end came much sooner than the Augments expected, when the Great Khanate—and its grasp on the planet—suddenly became quite tenuous…and then ceased to be.

DY-B1 launch booster

The DY-100’s modus operandi was to launch from Earth, separate itself from its launch booster assembly, maneuver (on reaction control system thrusters) to the waiting interplanetary drive module, marry up with that module, and then transit to the cargo containers waiting in orbit. Once those were secured to the sixteen available attachment points, the vessel would proceed on to its initial destination (lunar orbit, high-earth orbit point, target asteroid, or some other select destination), deliver the cargo, and then return, possibly with return cargo. Once back in low-earth orbit, the process would repeat. The DY-B1 booster was the first interplanetary module to provide the propulsive means for the spacecraft to conduct said mission, but with one additional step: refueling.

Unlike the ion drive module that Dinyan-Yoyodyne was preparing to unveil, the DY-B1 module made use of chemical reactant technology that was already in play with the company, its subsidiaries, and the client space agencies that bought and operated many of their aerospace products. Ideally, it would seem, the better method would have been to wait until the entire package—interplanetary spacecraft and fission-powered ion propulsion module—could be fielded, but the corporation’s ultimate mission was not just simply to enable states and other companies to build their own agenda-driven space presence. Instead, it was to both profit off the servicing of those agendas and fund the goals of the network of Augments commonly identified as the Great Khanate. D-Y had strong confidence in their ability to market the ion drive by 1992 (a target hit in mid-1991), but until then, they had a perfectly viable and adaptable interplanetary transport on their hands, as proven with the DY-50 experimental transport.

The raison d’etre for the DY-B1 was to get those first DY-100s operating and to demonstrate the extreme profitability that awaited an operator of such a spacecraft, instead of waiting for the ion drive to be functionally developed. That confidence in the development schedule provided an opportunity for the more fiscally-aware leadership of the corporation: the numerous chemical reactant drives could be re-tasked with servicing duties, once they were replaced on the DY-100s. After a spacecraft was fitted with the new DY-B2 interplanetary drive, the -B1 could then be autonomously directed to perform other low-earth orbit tasks, generally delivery of small amounts of cargo or large quantities of additional chemical reactants for the growing number of spacecraft and orbital structures taking form around Earth.

Because it could not be accurately determined when there would be enough of a self-sufficient orbital presence to maintain these drones, they were provided with the necessary aerodynamic features, such as wings and re-entry shielding, to return to groundside. Once serviced, they would be returned to orbit within a DY-T heavy launch vehicle, just as they had been for their first mission as interplanetary drives. Their blunt noses, used as the point of connection with the DY-100 in that interplanetary role, were rounded out with an overlapping series of flexible but stress-strengthened panels that extended from within the main body of the drone. This “soft” compartment had a generous capacity for 27 metric tons in a non-pressurized environment, while the internal fuel cell held 1,842 tons, a source shared with the drone’s fifteen DY-TS73 thrusters.

In 1996, as Dinyan-Yoyodyne and its subsidiaries began imploding (literally in many cases), nation states rushed to lock down regional ground control stations. A large percentage of the DY-B1 drones were lost and the few that converted to national control were left in orbit. They were well-tasked with servicing the orbital stations, but the decision to keep them aloft was to also minimize the risk of loss during re-entry. These few units were critical to space operations in the earliest period following what would later be identified as the Eugenics Wars.

DY-B2 interplanetary module

The DY-B2 interplanetary module is the classic propulsion drive most associated with the DY-100 transport. While a few early DY-100s first operated with the chemical reactant DY-B1 booster upon achieving post-launch orbit, by 1991 the fission-powered ion thruster module was being lifted to orbit to replace them, or standing ready to be mated up with newer -100s and the DY-110 Apex variant reserved for the Great Khanate. The second production run of DY-100s did not launch with the DY-B2 attached, as the four-rocket DY-A2 booster set could not accommodate the increased drag of the module’s non-aerodynamic shape, nor the considerable 780 metric tons. However, with the advent of the six-rocket DY-A3 in 1994, designed to slip right off without snagging the hearty radiator fins of the module, the ships could be launched fully completed and laden with the full load of 16 cargo containers.

Not to be overlooked is the incredible leap forward—yet again—in spacecraft technology provided by the ion drive, a form of electric propulsion generating thrust through the acceleration of ions. Not nearly as responsive as the fifteen chemical thrusters of the DY-B1, nevertheless, the ion drive was the clear choice in propelling a spacecraft. At full acceleration, the DY-100 could achieve a typical top speed of 0.01 the speed of light, over 40% faster than the chemical thrusters, given enough time. Usually, this would take weeks to achieve, and was much too fast for trips to the Main belt, as the ship would need to flip around to begin deceleration far before that top speed could be achieved. However, other than topping off the propellant for the RCS and minute amounts of xenon for the ion drive, the DY-B2 equipped spacecraft did not have to be concerned with post-mission refueling. It was presumed the fission power reactors (numbering eight) would need to be refueled about every 13 years, and only due to the constant acceleration and deceleration maneuvers of “short-hop” routes. The Great Khanate’s long-phase plans foresaw a spaceborne service economy, operating under their banner, that would be so well established as making nuclear refueling an evolution of low-concern.

Major Production Runs

• DY-T (1989): heavy single-stage-to-orbit cargo launch vehicle; carried fuel or other cargo (such as the DY-B series cislunar drives)
• DY-50 (1989): 2 test models constructed for the CNSA by the Dinyan-Yoyodyne Conglomerate, with built-on launch boosters; refueled by DY-T for cislunar missions
• DY-100 (1990): the first mass-produced series, built or licensed to the ISRO, CNSA, RRKS (later collaborating as the ECSN) and USAF; launch assisted by the DY-A1; would swap for DY-B1 in orbit (for cislunar missions)
• DY-A1 (1990): tri-booster launch system; detached upon reaching orbit and swapped for a DY-B1 for cislunar missions
• DY-B1 (1990): a pair of finned and aerodynamic boosters for the cislunar missions to Luna; delivered aboard DY-T and refueled for follow-on missions; can return to Earth thru remote for maintenance
• DY-110 Apex (1991): supported early Venusian and Martian missions; would launch with DY-A2; receive DY-B2 in orbit
• DY-A2 (1991): a cluster of four huge solid booster rockets attached aft of the fuel assembly of the DY-100s and DY-110s for launches from Earth
• DY-B2 (1991): an improved non-aerodynamic, fission-propulsion module for cislunar missions and interplanetary ones to Venus and Mars
• DY-100B (1994): an improvement upon the original DY in that the DY-B2 is attached on the ground; requires the DY-A3 to launch to orbit
• DY-A3 (1994): a cluster of six huge solid booster rockets attached aft of the fuel assembly of the DYs with pre-equipped DY-B series boosters
• DY-120 (2021): DY series re-enters production with new commercial design, supporting orbital structures and lunar bases; the first of 31 militarized Brentons transports are introduced in 2023 for the ISA; altogether over 400 DY-120s are produced
• DY-130 (2037): six larger DYs are built as a test of a newer and intended faster design, but the ship is much more maintenance-demanding with thruster control issues that made close-in maneuvering difficult and dangerous
• DY-140 (2039): lessons learned from the failed DY-130 result is a comparably faster and larger design, successfully improving the DY series; over 50 were produced, successfully supporting first the colonization of Mars and then other interplanetary destinations; the first of 12 militarized Helsinki transports are introduced in 2042 for the ISA
• DY-135 (2042): the improvements from the DY-140 series are used to modify the 6 DY-130 hulls, making them less massive and faster; they would form the Black Mamba class for the ISA and later the UEDP, serving alongside the slower Liberty class ships defending the solar system

Blueprints/Orthos

DY-50 experimental transport

DY-100 interplanetary transport

DY-110 Apex mission spacecraft

DY-120 Brenton mission spacecraft

DY-135 Black Mamba mission spacecraft

DY-140 Helsinki mission spacecraft

DY-T heavy launch vehicle

DY-A1 launch booster

DY-A2 launch booster

DY-A3 launch booster

DY-B1 launch booster

DY series Gallery

DY-100 livery

Commercial DY-120 (unladen)

Commercial DY-120 (laden with 15 container pods)

Commercial DY-120 (laden with 24 container pods)

Commercial DY-120 (livery)

Commercial DY-130 (unladen)

Commercial DY-130 (laden with 15 container pods)

Commercial DY-130 (livery)

Commercial DY-140

Commercial DY-140 (livery)

Last Updated on 2403.15 by admin