Elias let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The VID-2 was battered, scorched, and low on oxygen, but she was still flying.
Elias looked out the reinforced viewport. The landscape of the Mare Tranquillitatis was a monochromatic nightmare of jagged craters and long, creeping shadows. He was three hundred miles from the main colony, carrying a cargo of stabilized isotopes that the med-bay desperately needed to fight the outbreak.
With a final, violent jolt, the ship broke free of the dust cloud and surged into the blackness of the upper atmosphere. Below, the cratered ground became a distant map. Ahead, the tiny, glowing lights of New Hope Base appeared on the horizon—a lone campfire in a desert of stars. VID-2_mp4
"Systems check," he muttered, his voice raspy from hours of silence.
The onboard AI chirped in response. "VID-2 status: Hull integrity 84%. Fuel cells stable. Atmospheric scrubbers at capacity. Note: External temperatures are dropping faster than anticipated." Elias let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding
He pushed the thruster lever forward. The VID-2 groaned, its landing struts retracting with a series of heavy mechanical thuds. As the ship lifted, a sudden tremor shook the cabin. A jagged plume of lunar dust erupted from a nearby fissure—a moonquake.
The ship tilted dangerously as a spray of regolith pelted the underside. Warning lights flashed crimson across the cockpit. If he lost an engine now, he’d be a permanent part of the lunar crust. He rerouted emergency power to the lateral thrusters, the VID-2 roaring as it fought the shifting gravity. The landscape of the Mare Tranquillitatis was a
"Keep it together, girl," Elias whispered, gripping the flight stick.
