Another asteroid knocked us sideways, and I heard the screech and tearing of metal. That could only mean something major had broken. I had never been in a ship like this before, but even I knew that meant we were going to crash. No one screamed. Rangers are all trained better than that. But I think we all, in that moment, braced ourselves for the end.
And then a blinding white light flashed outside the windows. We rocketed forward, so fast that I was pinned back against my seat. At first I thought this was what death looked like, but then I remembered our science lesson on space travel. This was what my teacher said a wormhole was like. Someone—the pilot? My dad?—must’ve decided it was our best chance to reach a place we could land.
Suddenly, we burst into a peaceful stretch of winking stars. Through the window, I saw pieces flying off of our ship. This was not going to end well.
Then the navigator’s voice came over the speakers. “Cabin pressure dropping, heavy damage to outer hull. Breach possible in middle cabin.” The Rangers sprang into action, doing their best to reinforce the cabin. I wanted to help, but my father—the Commander General—had ordered me to stay put. I didn’t want to get in his way.
I gasped for breath, and a Ranger handed me an oxygen mask before exiting to the rear of the cabin. I was shaking with fear. This ship was going down and there was not one thing I could do to stop it, or to make sure I would survive when it did. I hated the thought of dying a Cadet and not a Ranger. I hated the thought of my mother losing another child. But it didn’t matter how I felt. There was nothing I could do.
A blue-and-green planet appeared in the distance, and our ship careened toward it. We whooshed past a small space buoy, and its recorded message began playing on a loop: “Warning. This planet has been declared unfit for human habitation. Placed under Class-One Quarantine by the Interplanetary Authority. Under penalty of law, do not attempt to land. Repeat, do not attempt to land.” It played so many times that I had no trouble memorizing every word.
I heard the pilot shouting over the radio. “Mayday, Mayday, this is Hesper-Two-Niner-Niner heavy in distress! We took heavy damage from an asteroid storm and are going down with bingo power! Request immediate rescue, repeat, request immediate rescue!”
The main cabin shuddered so violently I thought it would break apart. I saw my dad steadying himself, his respirator face mask in place, as he made his way from the cockpit back to me. As bad as things were, I still felt relief wash over me. With my dad here, nothing could go wrong. He was Cypher Raige, the Original Ghost, Commander General of Nova Prime.
Despite the ship’s shaking, all the Rangers were working to reinforce the bulkhead area as warning lights flashed above them. Their military training was obvious in every precise movement. But I found myself wondering if that would be enough.
I wanted to help, but my dad pressed his hand to my chest, keeping me in place. He helped me fasten my belt and harness, pulling them tight. I locked eyes with him, feeling the calm still radiating from him. I had no idea how he could remain calm. I wondered if this was how you ghosted, if this was the secret. And then my dad was slammed into the corner of the main cabin, and I finally released the scream I’d been holding back as he was tossed around like a rag doll. The squeal of splintering metal ripped through the cabin, and I clapped my hands over my ears to block it out. It didn’t help. Our ship was being torn to shreds. Dad was whipped to the front of the ship and out of sight. I shouted for him, but the howling of the wind drowned out my voice.
Our ship broke in two. High-pressure air rushed into the cabin. The two halves of our ship fell away from each other. Twenty Rangers, still struggling to solder the ship back together, spun away with the rear section of the ship. The ship continued to break apart as we fell. I struggled to remain conscious, but the g-force was too much for me. Everything went black.
//////// ENTRY 5
When I woke up, the world had tilted around me. Cords dangled from the ceiling at random angles. I heard the quiet hum of the ship’s computers and, in the distance, a buzz that might have been insects. I tried to sit up but my double harness pulled me back. I fumbled with the buckles, finally managing to release them. Stumbling to my feet, I swayed in the aisle.
Then my training kicked in: assess your condition. I ran through my symptoms: dizzy, groggy, confused. I understood that I was in shock, but I didn’t know how to snap myself out of it. I just knew I had to find my dad.
A few shafts of light sliced into the cabin through the passenger windows and the gaping hole where the rest of the ship used to be. Past where the ship now ended, I could see some kind of cavern outside.
My breath fogged my oxygen mask and I pulled it down around my neck, trying to get my bearings. I immediately gasped for air. A digital meter on my mask read Low Oxygen: 15%. Caution. I yanked the mask back on and took a deep gulp. Relief. I tightened my mask before heading down the aisle to see what else was left.
I saw a body tangled between the seats, too twisted to be alive. I stared in horror at the Ranger, but despite the tight knot of fear coiling in my stomach, I forced myself to keep going. I couldn’t stay here. I had to find my dad.
Debris cluttered the aisle, and I did my best to avoid the sharp metal shards. Suddenly I heard a loud beep, followed by a bang and a buzz. I turned to see what it was as two sets of air lock doors began to close. They banged against a Ranger who lay lifeless between them. I saw that his arm was stuck, but the doors kept pushing against him, beeping and buzzing as they struggled to close. The computer’s voice blared: “Remove obstruction. Remove obstruction.” I wanted to run, but I wanted the sounds to stop too. And I couldn’t let the doors keep crashing into that Ranger. He deserved better. Making my way toward him, I nudged him past the doors with my foot until he was clear. He probably deserved better than that too, but it was the best I could do. I had never touched a dead body before. I couldn’t handle anything more than that, not yet.
The doors slammed closed and the alarms stopped blaring. A suction sound followed, and air blew hard through the vents. “Repressurizing complete,” the computer announced. Now I could take off my mask.
Peering into an adjacent corridor, I spotted a hand that I immediately recognized as my dad’s. I rushed over and pulled a piece of debris off of him. He lay on the ground, his legs pinned beneath a fragment of the ship. I struggled to lift it, but it was too heavy. Looking around for help, I saw a long metal rod that had fallen from the ceiling. Wedging it between the ground and the debris to make a lever, I pushed with all my strength. Finally, the large piece of metal lifted off of his legs. I edged it away until it tipped over away from my father, slamming into the floor so hard that the ship shook again.
As I knelt beside my dad, I was relieved to see his breath fogging his face mask—just a little, but better than nothing. I curled up on the floor beside him, watching for even the slightest movement. Maybe I was still in shock, because I couldn’t seem to think of anything else to do. But my dad—my big, powerful, heroic dad—just lay there, motionless. I couldn’t help it—I started to cry.
I tried to get control of myself, but I couldn’t. Was I really going to have to watch my father die, just like I did with my sister? I didn’t think I could go through that again.