Fracture Point

5511 words

Episode 8: Fracture Point The skiff shuddered as Mira slammed the throttle forward, the engines howling against the void. Her gloved hands gripped the controls, knuckles pale under the worn leather, the survivor slumped in the co-pilot seat beside her. His breathing was shallow, ragged, each exhale fogging the cracked visor of his suit. The wreck of the downed ship receded in the rear display, a jagged husk of twisted metal floating against the black, its hull still leaking faint wisps of atmosphere into space. Mira didn’t look back. She couldn’t. Not with the weight of his limp body anchoring her to the moment, not with the static in her comms spitting Cal’s last words on a loop in her head: “Full throttle back to the station.” The skiff’s interior smelled of burnt wiring and sweat, the air thick with the tang of recycled oxygen. A faint vibration rattled through the frame, a reminder of how little fuel they had left. The station loomed ahead on the main screen, a skeletal ring of gray and white against the dead Earth below, its lights flickering like dying embers. Eleven-B. Home. Or what passed for it now. Mira’s jaw tightened as she punched in the docking sequence, her fingers trembling just enough to miss a key. She cursed under her breath, corrected...