Please work.
I hit the button and gripped the flight stick. Everything around me became still. The stars that I can see began to move slowly, and then, disappeared into the blackness. I can hear my heart racing; the blood in my veins felt like it was thickening; my breath became shallow; the hairs on my arm stood on end; my eyes rolled back and forth between gauge numbers and the emptiness of which now is space.
Space. I never thought I'd make it here. Ever since I was little, looking up at the stars. I always dreamed of going into space, traveling to one of the inner planets, but I was too young and space travel was way too slow. When I was old enough, I signed on to fly a new experimental type of engine, and craft that will take you anywhere in mere seconds by bending space and time. I couldn't pass up my dream.
I was the first one chosen to fly the ship. I was trained and prepared for four months, but I didn't know itíd be like this, to feel like this. I looked down at the console. Flux Energy Units at 317... life support system normal... light years... oh shit, eighty-seven. Not good. I was only supposed to go twenty or thirty light years.
Got to stop it, now.
I looked over my right shoulder. A red handle with a label over it read "EMERGENCY SHUT OFF." I took my left hand from the flight stick, reached over, and pulled as hard as I could. To my surprise, the one foot red cylinder fell on my lap, and I was still moving.
My eyes now looked for anything that will stop this now nightmare.
Hundred forty-three.
The Flux Energy is now at 498. If it reaches 700, I won't have to worry about slowing down. Think. To my left, five buttons with labels covered the console: space jump, comm, life support, scanners, and retrorockets. Hitting the retros now will split me apart, unless...
Seven hundred three.
...unless, I root all available energy from scanners to the retros, they might be able to slow me down in multiple bursts instead of one strong one. If it doesn't work, there will be pieces of me over who knows how many star systems.
FEUs at 542.
I have to do it. Over the top of me, a button read "ROOT ENERGY." Once I hit it, the five labels to my left lit up. My training kicked in. Root what you want to what you need. I first pressed scanners...
One thousand twenty-four..
... then retro rockets. A low humming sound confirmed the transfer. The lights from the labels turned off, except scanners.
I looked at the retrorockets optimistically, wondering if it will work, if this could be the final time that I draw breath. I placed my thumb over it, and looked out at the starless space, wondering what stars could be seen from here when I slow down. If I slow down.
I took my eyes back to the button, and lightly tapped it. I jerked forward, only to be caught by the harness that strapped me to the seat. I looked back outside to see lines, white lines that stretched through the heavens. My FEUs stopped rising at 672. I tapped it again. Another movement forwards, but not as powerful as the last. The lines became shorter, and the FEUs dropped to 637. I kept pressing it, only to see the lines get shorter and shorter. At 257, I could see planets zooming by.
At 203 FEUs, I slammed down the button, causing me to rip through one of the straps when I lurched forward. As I collected myself, I checked if I was still alive. Then I checked my readouts, only to be shocked to find out I was probably better off dead.
The FEUs were at zero, the drive engine shot, and I was 1.7 million light years from home.
Again, my breathing shallowed and heart raced. Again, my training kicked in.
Establish communication.
Thank God we didn't install radio communications. Instead, the company installed a new comm device. I wasn't fully briefed on how it worked, but they said you'll be able to send a message fifty-five light years without pause.
I'm guessing there should be a long pause.
I relayed my position, status and health.. After what it seemed like forever, they replied, saying that they have every available person trying to get me home.
Right now, this is my home, this small, cramped shuttle. I tried to sleep, but couldn't. I then started to think of ways to pass the time: counting the stars, figuring a way to get the engines back online, figuring what to say when I get back. The news people will have a field day with me.
It felt like days since I last heard a voice. What I give to hear one of my brother's old marriage stories again.
Then, in the distance, I can see a planet. As I squinted, the blue and green colors resemble mine.
Did they bring me home without me knowing? Some sort of autopilot perhaps, or is space messing with my mind, making me think it's home? I'm drifting towards it, and as the planet gets bigger in the window, the more I believe I am home. When I get to the point to where I can see the depths of the clouds and peaks of the mountains, I truly believe I made it back.
I almost jumped out of the remaining harnesses when I saw the rescue shuttle being launched from the surface. I'll be able to see my family and friends again. I hit the comm button and gave them my gratitude. I reached behind my seat to get my little computer, and started typing what I was going to say...
Yells and howlers came from everyone on the wires that heard it first, and new satellite images confirmed it seconds later. The target was destroyed. It was first spotted by the Hubble Space Telescope outside of Mars's orbit emitting a unknown type of element. Later reports showed that it was on a collision course somewhere near the Arizona desert. Our scientific advisers informed the President and he said to either move it or eliminate it before it hits. All ideas to move it would have taken weeks, and we had only hours, so we contacted the military establishment, told them our situation, and they were glad to help. They sent up a experimental orbital missile, and it did its job, proving to be a success in the field. Our next task will be to pick up some of the derbies left in orbit to be analyze...
Somewhere out by the Grand Canyon, to the naked eye, something was falling from the sky, almost like a fireball. When it hit, there was no crater or mushroom cloud, but scattered microchips and circuits. Before the screen burnt out and the hard-drive fried, there was a sentence that shall be forever be lost in the sands of time.
We, as a human race, are proud to welcome space with open arms.
