It was the fateful day of my re-entry to Earth and it was chaotic at best, since the moment my ship breached Earth's atmosphere, the fire began.
The hull, battered and scarred from months of radiation and cosmic debris, screamed against the unrelenting force of reentry. Flames erupted along the outer plating, licking hungrily at the weakened metal. Warning lights exploded across my console, each one screaming of imminent failure.
The G-forces slammed into me, pressing me into my seat like a crushing weight. My body, still weakened from months of low gravity, fought against itself. My vision blurred at the edges, black creeping in from the sides as my muscles strained.
"Hold together. Just a little longer."
The right booster—the weakest link in this desperate gamble—stuttered, then roared, then sputtered again. My ship jerked violently, yanked off-course by the unstable thrust.
Trajectory warning.
