You engage the ship's matter/antimatter drive, hoping it wasn't damaged in the wormhole. Its pleasant purr sends waves of relief through you. Anything would be better than asphyxiating to death out here in the dark of space.
Knowing it will be many hours before the ship reaches its destination, you turn on the auto-pilot, switch on all proximity detectors, and lie back in your cushy astronaut's chair for an extended nap. In your dreams you are running from something (a monster?) but you never see anything but its shadow. Somehow you know, that to remain beneath it is doom so whenever it falls on you, you run for your life. Finally when you dare a look up at the titanic object of your dread and awake with a shudder not remembering what your tormentor was only that she was horrible... 'She?'
Your thoughts are pulled away from your dream by the beeping of the proximity alarm. A quick look beyond the cockpit determines why. In front of you all you can see is the yellow curvature of the desert planet and already friction from its dusty atmosphere is coaxing flames up the nose of your ship. 'The wormhole must have shorted out the auto-pilot.' You chide yourself, 'why didn't I run a full diagnostic.'
After, opening all drag flaps and engaging stabilizers, you grab hold of the stick and prepare to wrestle her down. Mom always told you that playing video games constantly would ruin your chances at life. Now its only your innate skill with a control stick that lies between you and certain vaporization.
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