NASA and Sierra Space have updated the Dream Chaser contract, adding enough footnotes to tile the heat shield and still regrout the launchpad. The agreement promises a smoother ride to the ISS and a smoother ride for accountants, which are separate vehicles sharing a nervous launch window.

Dream Chaser, the spaceplane that looks like the Space Shuttle’s younger cousin who discovered CrossFit and therapy, will carry cargo, science, and everyone’s expectations, which weigh more than payload because they refuse to be jettisoned. Its new tiles are so shiny they reflect budget meetings back into the Sun.

NASA said the revision “optimizes mission cadence,” a phrase that sounds like jazz but bills like opera. Sierra Space replied, “We are excited,” which is aerospace for “we found the missing screws and they were essential, actually.”

The acronyms remain unchanged: NET means Not Even Thursday, CDR means Could Delay Realistically, and IDIQ means I Did, I Quit. Somewhere a project manager is whispering “schedule margin” like a spell that only works on Gantt charts.

Concerned citizens asked if the update includes better safety gear for handling reentry pizza. Engineers nodded solemnly and pointed to aerogel oven mitts, which are perfect for hot payloads and hotter takes.

Payment milestones now function like constellations: you can draw any animal between the dots and call it a schedule, then name it Perseus the Rescope. The propulsion for this plan is 70% methane, 30% PowerPoint thrust.

A Sierra Space spokesperson assured the press that “risk is reducing,” as if danger were a stubborn sauce being simmered down. The CFO wore VR goggles to demonstrate projected savings in a simulated orbit where money floats away slower than credibility.

Dream Chaser is slated to ferry supplies, experiments, and the accumulated anxiety of three decades of shuttle nostalgia. It will also return to Earth with trash, spent science, and two screws we definitely didn’t need but will miss immediately.

Test readiness is currently at 93% when measured in optimism per hour, a metric pioneered by launch directors and toddlers. The remaining 7% will be filled with space-rated duct tape and granola bars, the two commodities that have never failed a mission briefing.

Some took the contract refresh as a delay. NASA clarified that “update” means progress, the same way your phone’s update means new icons, fewer buttons, and your battery is now a rumor. Replace battery with oxygen and you’ve got flight ops.

In keeping with tradition, a press diagram shows a neat arrow from Today to Launch as though winds sign NDAs. The arrow labels read “Discovery → Product → Propaganda,” and the legend admits the line is mostly vibes and Monte Carlo.

As for next steps, the agency will read the revised terms aloud, scroll to the bottom, and click “I Agree to Chase Dreams,” after which the spaceplane should leap skyward—because nothing accelerates a vehicle like someone finally pressing Start on the paperwork.