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Express Elevator
Twenty five seconds.
Final braking. The High War. Mum died in a cruise missile attack on Leenaun. The Americans had taken advantage of a winter storm to strike at the EUFOR navy base. I was five and couldn't understand why she wouldn't be coming home again.
Twenty seconds.
I was twelve and at Rachel's birthday. I sneaked off with... Tina, was it? I lost my virginity in ten minutes of glorious fumbling, and then never spoke to her again.
Seventeen seconds.
First time in space. I went up to Collins Barracks with dad when I was sixteen. Spent the first two days just vomiting and wishing I was dead. Then I got better and never wanted to go back down.
Fourteen seconds.
Eighteen. The Third Revolution. An armistice was signed, grudges were forgotten, the Americans were our friends again, and I was at the UN in Oslo protesting it.
Ten seconds.
High Plymouth, aged twenty six. I had been kept on at at the station as part of the crew for the Simon Marius. I was going to Europa. I went home for the last time, got drunk and cried over mum's grave at three in the morning.
Seven seconds.
Now I'm thirty eight, collision alarms are sounding and our shadow rushing up to meet us across a broken red landscape. Io is like a battered wife. Jupiter is her abusive husband. You know he comes home from work and beats her, but you never come out and say it. You just look away and talk about the weather.
Three seconds.
Nigel deploys our external airba...
Impact.
We plough straight through a mound of sulphur and impact bedrock at one hundred and ninety eight meters per second. Crash foam floods the compartment, but it doesn't help us inside of our suits. The wind is knocked out of me again and again, and I can feel a rib break as I'm crushed against my webbing. I'm like a fucking bean in a tin can. The shuttle rolls front over back and then we're flying through the air again. I can't breathe. The shuttle slams into the ground a second time, hard, tearing away one of the airbags. I can't move. All I can see and feel is crash foam pressed in around me. I hear screaming over my radio, Alisa praying.
We impact a third time, a fourth, a fifth. Sixth. I'm bleeding from my nose. I've pissed myself.
The shuttle's has stopped bouncing, but we're sliding and rolling now. I know what's left of the Kirch might come apart at any moment. I'm upside down and every part of me hurts like hell. I'm laughing and I'm crying all at once.
We're coming to a rest at last. It feels like an hour, but between the impact and full stop it's only been thirty seconds at most.
As the crash starts foam dissolves itself, it's all I can do to just lie there and catch my breath. I feel like I've been beaten with a stick, that I've had the best sex in the world and that I've run a marathon.
Give the Germans their due. The Maria Kirch has been torn in half, exposed to intense radiation and endured high-stress maneuvers. The shuttle has just impacted a planetary body at seven hundred kilometers per hour, and we're still alive. The cabin is cracked and warped, but we still have pressure and breathable air. The emergency lighting are on, and enough ship systems are working that they are screaming error messages at us.
I hear groaning and quiet swearing, but one speaks until Nigel starts laughing. With a sound something like a gurgle and a moan, he manages to spit out, ''...welc...welcome to planet motherfucker, assholes.''