Re-entry Unstable.
The alarm screeched like a dying bird, as the yellow warning lights flashed incessantly. On the forward viewing screen, a text box popped up in a similar yellow flash. Within the flashing box was a message that was in red, scrolling in its length. It was an ugly combination of colors, but that was intentional in the design. The message read:
“
// RE-ENTRY UNSTABLE //
CONDITION: CRITICAL FAILURE
RECOMMEND: ~ERROR~
SYSTEM FUNCTIONALITY:
=RED: IMMEDIATE REPLACEMENT NECESSARY, NONFUNCTIONAL
=YELLOW: REPAIRABLE, NONFUNCTIONAL
=GREEN: NOMINALLY FUNCTIONAL
- ENGINE: RED
- STABILIZERS: RED
- INERTIAL DAMPENERS: RED
- LIFE SUPPORT: YELLOW
- ENERGY CAPACITOR: YELLOW
- THRUSTERS: RED
- AUTOMATIC BRIDGE CONTROLS: YELLOW
- ARTIFICIAL GRAVITY: GREEN
*IMMEDIATE ACTION NECESSARY*
CRYO DECK FUNCTIONALITY
A: YELLOW
B: YELLOW
C: RED
D: RED
E: RED
F: RED
ESTIMATED LOSS: 89%
*IMMEDIATE ACTION NECESSARY*
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.
.
.”
As one might be able to tell, the situation was critical. In the chair directly in the center of the bridge, sat a frustrated alicorn on her haunches. She was panicked to her core, and upset that she couldn’t think of a way to avoid this disaster. All hands would be lossed today, and she would be responsible. She was responsible from everything, from the people who were dying in the decks below, to the very steel that held the spacecraft together.
The heat in the room intensified and Twilight’s brow glistened with sweat, as the water in the air and condensed on her face. A loud explosion could be heard from the decks below the bridge that made the whole ship shutter. The hull of the ship lurched as the thick atmosphere of the planet below began to tickle her belly. Following the explosion, a new message popped onto the forward view screen.
“
REVISION:
*LIFE SUPPORT STATUS RED.
ATMOSPHERIC MASK REQUIRED, EVA SUIT RECOMMENDED.
CRYO DECK STATUS:
A: RED
B: RED
C: RED
D: RED
E: RED
F: RED
ESTIMATED LOSS: 100%
.
.
.
.”
Twilight didn’t move from her seat to grab the oxygen mask that had fallen onto the ground from the hull’s vibrations. Even though the mask was only a few steps to her right. She just brought a hoof her forehead and wiped the liquids from her face. Breathable air wouldn’t save her or the ship at this point. Doom was inevitable. However, there was something she could do.
“Launch Black Box Satellite to orbital velocity, confirmation code: Oh Two Delta. Record message…” She yelled, struggling, if only a little, for breath.
Twilight paused, thinking of what she wanted to say. She thought, at first, everything she wanted to say right now. She wanted to apologize to the Princesses, for leading hundreds of ponies to their doom. She to say goodbye to her family, telling her parents she would miss them, telling her brother to take care of her sister-in-law, to tell her niece the same. She wanted to tell everyone that she had made a stupid mistake and that they should never send another ship from Equus, but she knew that would be an even more stupid mistake. Equestria should definitely try to colonize again, if not a bit more cautiously.
The ship’s forward view screen inscribed yet another message for Twilight. “Satellite launch calculated and ready. Awaiting Black Box message.” It read as if to tell Twilight to hurry, or to remind her that she had very little time to make a message before her chance was lost.
Twilight gulped a breath of airless air, and wiped her brow again. She thought a moment longer before finally saying her message that she wanted to record. Every word came from her mouth at an increased rasp, as she sometimes gasped for the oxygen her lungs desired. At the end, the temperature in the room had risen significantly higher. Twilight didn’t bother to wipe her face anymore as she now saw darkness at the edge of her vision.
“... end message,” she rasped, “Confirm Satellite launch, con…” She exhaled quickly before inhaling again, “...firmation code: Oh Two Delta.”
The ship itself was now furrowed within the atmosphere, and the forward view screen showed the hull blazing with friction. Chunks of metal and heated rivulettes of slag flew off the ship. The conditions within the bridge cabin were hardly livable anymore. Twilight knew she had scant few moments before the ship collided with the denser clouds of the gas giant’s atmosphere. It would tear the ship apart in moments, and with it all hands of the Honest Intent would be lost.
Another explosion rattled the hull, mere seconds after Twilight gave her confirmation. This time, the explosion was intentional, as the satellite was meant to be launched with a controlled explosion. It saved an amount of fuel for the rest of its trip into low orbit. Twilight sat and monitored the communications panel, quietly awaiting for the black box signal to go live.
The temperature at this point was unbearable, and fires broke out on some of the control panels. Twilight could feel her own skin blistering from the intensity of the heat. She began to cry from the pain, trying to continue to watch the screen, but the tears burned her vision as the water in her body began to boil. She rubbed at her eyes with her hooves, only clearing her vision for but a second.
It was a bad move, because almost as soon as she opened her eyes, the console in front of her exploded from the heat. She was blinded, this time permanently. She tried to gasp for more precious oxygen but the fires had consumed whatever oxidants there were left. With the oxygen, the fires were gone too, but that didn’t matter because even the floor scalded her poor flesh.
Twilight was being slowly asphyxiated, and her lungs burned with desire for the precious, life giving substance but it was far too late for that. Twilight regretted not grabbing that mask now. Inwardly, she wanted nothing more than to be saved or be killed quicker. However her cognitive ability was failing, and she could feel it.
Or rather, she could feel that she couldn’t feel. Nothing made sense anymore. It was all a visionless blur for her and the world around seemed to come crumbling on top of her.
And then…
… nothing.
=======
A large amalgamated heap of metal arched through the sky, burning brighter than a star. It was, in simple terms, beautiful to watch. The loud reverberations of the mass boomed with the breaking of the sound barrier.
The pinkish-white clouds of the rain-less storm swirled on, arcing with static-electric lightning. Wisps of sunlight barely made it halfway through the thickness in the fluffy volumes of the alien gasses. Winds strong enough to blow away a brick house pushed the clouds up, and down- this way and that. The ship crashing through the atmosphere mattered not to them, and they peacefully floated on, going wherever the wind took them.
The ship exploded before sinking below the upper layer of clouds. The several split pieces made separate ripples, not unlike pebbles in a pond of cool water. And just like that, it ceased to matter, hidden from the universe as melted slag underneath the thick cloud layer on an obscure gas giant in a distant solar system. Gone was the honest and good intentions of a hopeful journey to start anew, and learn more about the universe as they knew.
It didn’t matter, just like the pebbles in the deep pond.
=======
A message repeated throughout the stars, playing from a small satellite in low orbit above a pinkish white gas giant. It said the following, with a confident female voice, filled with determination and pride- despite a seemingly dire situation.
“To Whomever may come across this message, this Princess and Captain Twilight Sparkle of the E.S.S. Honest Intent. If you are receiving this message then you have come within the solar system that my ship and I perished in. I made a mistake that cost the lives of all hands aboard my ship, and I am sorry. However, with the news of our deaths, you may be disheart- *Explosion followed by crackling and static* -avel on. Do not stop venturing forward, do not discontinue your search for another planet to begin anew and do not mourn for us.
All of us onboard would like to be remembered with a happy thought of who we were on Equus, not how we came to be on XPV-287. Memor- *Gasping* Memorialize our deaths with a statue, but commemorate it to science! *Another explosion is heard and the crackling static lasts for approximately 30 seconds.* -is all you should see. Unfortunately our time has come.
This is Princess and Captain Twilight Sparkle, signing off.”
The transmission then repeated a silent communication of the flight path and alterations. It displays how the valiant Captain planned to sling the ship around a gas giant within the solar system in hopes of saving a meager amount of fuel. She forgot to calculate for the movement of the planet. Icarus flew too close to the Sun, and burned his wings.