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Page 1 of 4 Because of miscalculation, the craft dipped too low and hit the atmosphere with an earsplitting scream. Lying flat in their bunks, the men could hear the dampers being crushed. The front screens showed flame and went black; the cushion of incandescent gas at the bow was too much for the outside cameras. The control room filled with the stench of hot rubber. Under the force of the deceleration, the men temporarily lost their vision, their hearing. This was the end...
No one could think. No one had the strength, eve, to inhale. Breathing was done for them by the osypulsators, forcing air into them as into straining balloons. Then the roar abated. The emergency lights went on, six on either side. The Crew stirred. Above the instrument panel the warning signal showed the floor. There was no roar now, only a dull whistle.
"What -" croaked the Doctor after spitting out his rubber mouthpiece.
"Stay down!" warned the Captain, who was watching the one undamaged screen.
The ship somersaulted, as if hit by a battering ram. The nylon netting that enfolded them twanged like the string of a musical instrument. For a moment everything was poised upside down, and then the engine began to rumble.
Muscles that had tensed in anticipation of the final blow relaxed. The ship, atop a vertical column of exhaust flame, slowly descended; the nozzles throbbed reassuringly. This lasted several minutes. Then the walls throbbed; the vibration increased-the turbine bearings must have worked loose. The men looked at one another. They knew that everything depended now on whether or not the vanes would hold.
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