The Flight

Captain Ray Braxton fought desperately to extinguish the fire raging through the cockpit of his battered spacecraft. The exhaust system was offline, and thick smoke filled the small space, making it nearly impossible to see or breathe. Every time he managed to control one flare-up, another blazed to life.

He glanced at the viewscreen, hoping for a glimpse of his ship’s wild trajectory—but it was dead, flickering only once before coming to life with a scrambled chaos of multicolored blocks. For a split second, he felt a glimmer of hope, but it vanished as the screen exploded, sending shards of glass, plastic, and metal across the command area. Braxton shielded his face, but jagged pieces embedded in his arm and lodged deep in his chest. The pain was sharp, searing, but survival took priority.

The ship rocked with another explosion, and Braxton turned just in time to see, through the emergency door’s window, the entire rear section ripping away. Instantly, the cabin plunged into darkness, save for the firelight that cast eerie shadows across the remains of the cockpit.

He threw the extinguisher aside, hurrying to the control panel. Part of him knew that flipping switches or hitting buttons would be pointless, but desperation drove him on. In a moment of frustration, he slammed his fists against the panel—and, against all odds, the lights and gauges came back to life.

A ray of hope returned, stretching a grin across his weathered face. Maybe he wasn’t done for just yet. Braxton moved back to his chair and strapped himself in, preparing for the ride of his life.

On the arm of his chair, a small control pad granted minimal helm control. He tapped in a series of coordinates and muttered a prayer, uncertain where he was or if the helm would even respond. Digging his fingers into the armrests, he closed his eyes, bracing himself. Whatever came next, it would mark the start of a brand-new adventure.