A dull thud echoes through a hallway.
A sheaf of papers fall to the floor.
----
Neil turned and smiled at Luna, poking the snoozing alicorn to wake her up. “Hey, hey, we’re about to hit reentry,” he told her as she blinked herself awake. “It’s going to be a bit bumpy—you’ll want to hold on to something. And pray.” He smiled weakly. “Reentry can be dangerous, and we won’t know if anything is wrong until it’s too late. But, hey, it’s been done before, and so far nothing’s gone wrong up here. Let’s hope that streak goes unbroken.”
Luna was not reassured by his words. “This reentry is so dangerous? Why so?”
Neil grimaced. “In space, there’s no air, right?” At Luna’s nod, he continued. “Reentry is where we have to get back into the atmosphere to land back on Earth. The only problem is, we’re going really fast. More than...” he thought it over in his head. “20 or 30 times the speed of sound. Really fast, like I said. So, if we hit the atmosphere at too shallow of an angle, we could skip off of it like a stone on a pond and go flying into deep space.
“If we hit too steeply, we’ll just burn up from the friction. It’s a very finicky angle. The mathematicians have calculated it very precisely, but if someone on either end screws up, we won’t be living through it.”
He patted her shoulder. “But no one has gotten it wrong yet, so I think we have a handle on it.”
Luna sighed. “I am not enthused at the thought.”
Buzz laughed. “Neither are we. This, frankly, scares me.” He sobered. “Scares me a lot.”
Michael added, “We can’t contact Earth during the process either, so neither side knows what’s happening until it’s over. It’s always terrifying, on the ground or not.”
“On that note,” Buzz returned, “We’ll be hitting the exosphere any second now. Better hold on tight! We don’t have anywhere convenient for you to sit, and it gets really bumpy.”
Quickly, she began actively funneling more magic into her boots. At the same time, she grabbed her helmet, floating off in one corner of the module and refastened it on her head.
-----
So, too, does a body.
The papers are taken; the body, left.
-----
Charlie walked out on the flight deck to see the President, along with his two security agents and the two which had come with Charlie onboard, staring out into the sky. Nearby, Fitz bounced on his toes, unable to hide his excitement as he got as close to the edge of the ship as was allowed. A bright orange flotation device, obviously foisted on him by some nervous crewman, was half-fastened to his body—apparently, he’d forgotten about it midway through putting it on.
As he joined the strange group, the President greeted him warmly, and then turned back to the sea. “The reentry should be starting any moment now. Radio blackout with the crew was just confirmed. We should be able to see some of the reentry from here.”
Unobtrusively, a pair of seamen set up a radio nearby, and one stayed with the equipment when the setup was complete, ready to relay any messages from the bridge, Mission Control, or the reentry module once it had landed.
One of the agents stiffened. “There it is!” he called, breaking professionalism for a moment to point upwards.
Everyone followed his finger, gasping in amazement at the thin line of flame, almost like a shooting star, high above them. It streaked across the sky, from the far east westwards. Suddenly, the trail disappeared.
“What happened?” asked Fitz. “Did it just burn up?”
“We don’t know yet,” the President responded. “Either they burned up, or the reentry module has slowed down and is beginning its final descent. We won’t know until we get radio contact—or find what’s left of the module.”
Glancing sidelong at the President, Charlie could see his anxiousness. He was hiding it well, but he slowly shifted from foot to foot.
-----
He watches.
His breath grows short.
-----
The module shuddered constantly now, getting ever more violent with every second. The temperature began to rise, quickly enough it was noticeable to the four inside.
“I don’t think it should be this hot already,” Neil shouted. “Something’s wrong!”
Collins cursed. “They must have miscalculated something!”
“Doesn’t that mean we’re going to die?” Buzz asked frantically.
“Maybe—if the calculations were close enough, and we’re lucky, we might make it!” They all reached for their restraints and tightened them even further, hands whitened with the struggle.
Collins began praying under his breath.
Luna was taking the brunt of the juddering module—she had nowhere to strap in, and every shake banged her upper body into something in the crowded space.
Then, a mighty jerk dislodged one of her hooves and threw her off-balance. A second quickly followed.
The temperature was reaching a staggering high— Luna felt as if she was in an oven. Her vision began to blur, and her fur began to burn her skin, the heat being funneled into her dark coat.
The shaking stopped for a few seconds, and Luna relaxed marginally. It was over; they’d made it alive!
Then, with an almighty crash, the parachutes deployed, and an unprepared alicorn lost all footing, her grasp of the magic holding her to the floor shattering along with her concentration.
The last jerk as they caught flung her to the right—right into the three astronauts, who were so tightly strapped in they could barely raise their hands in a vain attempt to block the hurtling mass.
-----
There is fire in the sky.
The time is close at hand.
-----
It had been several minutes, and even the agents were apprehensive now; they tapped idly on their holsters and adjusted their suits constantly. Fitz was pacing along the deck, the most obvious of the group, but even President Nixon was not immune. He clenched at his pant legs, his fingers white with the strength of his grip. He was chewing on his lower lip.
Suddenly, the radio crackled. “Hornet, This is Search Team One. We have visual on parachute. Moving now.”
The tension only thickened. The module had survived—but had the fragile flesh within? It would be a terrible blow to find the four inside dead from the heat of reentry in an intact module.
The President edged closer and closer to the radio with every moment, until finally he was practically looming over the terrified seaman manning it. Sweating, he asked, “Would you like the radio, sir?”
Nixon nodded jerkily, and the seaman hastily handed him the microphone and fled from his presence.
“Hornet, Search One. We’re over the module; have been for a minute. There are no signs of life. The door isn’t open, and there have been no radio transmissions.” The pilot sounded devastated over the small speakers.
Everyone took an involuntary step back, and Nixon groaned, putting a hand to his chest and reeling back.
“Wait, wait—the door just opened! The door just opened!” Nixon bent over the radio, pressing the headphones to his ear. Everyone rushed to the speakers, crowding as close as they could, even the agents jostling for position.
Forgetting all radio protocol, the pilot screamed through the radio. “One of the astronauts just crawled out—two!”
Someone—Charlie wasn’t sure who—muttered a prayer under their breath.
“They’re giving the thumbs up! There’s the third—and the alien! They’re all alive—they’re all alive!” The pilot was nearly blowing out the speakers with the force of his voice. (Charlie was pretty sure he wouldn’t have much of one tomorrow.) “Thank God, they’re all alive.” He was nearly sobbing now.
The President felt for the table and collapsed heavily to the deck, and mopped at his forehead with one shaking hand. “Thank God.”