If I may suggest, sit down when you read this one. Wait, who reads standing up? Ok, then, buckle up instead. I know I've had a blast writing this so far, and I hope anyone who reads it can say the same. Enjoy!

Chapter 4

The pain did not really hit Kyle until he reached the zero gravity zone at the central shaft. Something inside him shifted, igniting a blazing pain in his side. Kyle doubled over, clutching his stomach and gasping for breath. A few crimson spheres of blood floated away from him, orbiting about in the hallway like tiny planets. He would have cried out if he could have; indeed, he tried to but the pain was as such that he could not utter a sound.

Kyle had only looked at his wound once. He was not a squeamish person around blood – he had seen his fair share of accidents in his time. But knowing that it was his blood…that changes things. It honestly did not even look that bad. It was just a neat little hole half way between his hip and his ribs, and it was not even bleeding that much. The bullet was still in there, though, and Kyle knew that was a serious problem. What Kyle did not know was that the bullet had entered his body at a slight up angle, fracturing his tenth false rib where it had struck the bone. Free from the artificial gravity in the command arm, both the bullet and several bone fragments shifted and floated free within his abdominal cavity. Neither had drifted into anything vital…yet.

The flash drive was still clenched in his hand. Kyle looked down at it, wondering if what it contained would cost him his life. It was clearly vital enough that Captain Delgado had seen it fit to safeguard it with his own life. Get it to Sully… Kyle did not know who Sully was, but he would do the next best thing. If Norm was alive down there, he would make sure to deliver the flash drive to him. Norm could be trusted to take care of it. Kyle slipped the small flash drive into his breast pocket, patting it once to make sure it was secure, leaving a bit of a bloody smear on the front of his flight suit.

Suddenly, the awareness of time gripped Kyle. He needed to get back to the shuttle, and he needed to go now. There were over 60 people on Valkyrie 25 that were counting on him to get them out of here alive. Kyle knew that Robbie could not land the shuttle on his own; Kyle's death would be the death of all of them. Bracing himself against the pain, he pushed off from the wall and floated down the central shaft. I need to make one quick stop before we bust out of here, he thought.

Entering the now abandoned hab module, Kyle made his way over to one of the medical stations. The entire place was quiet, and the only thing he could hear was the soft hum of the ventilation system. All of the cryobeds had been left extended in the haste to evacuate – now they reminded Kyle of open graves. Fishing through the medical cabinet, Kyle finally found the two items he needed. The first was a canister of medical foam, designed for quick first aid in the field. This is gonna hurt like a bitch, Kyle thought, as he yanked the cap off of the container with his teeth. Before he gave himself second thoughts, Kyle jammed the tip of the canister into his gunshot wound and pulled the trigger. The antiseptic foam filled the cavity, working to keep the wound clean and various juicy parts from moving when they should not. The foam also possessed local anesthetic qualities, and the relief from the pain was so profound that it brought tears to Kyle's eyes.

The second item was a stim shot. The drug had some technical name as long as Kyle's arm that he did not even bother trying to pronounce. This he injected into his shoulder, and he shivered with something like delight as the drug raced through his system, causing his pupils to dilate slightly. The next few hours were going to require Kyle's undivided attention, no matter what kind of pain Kyle might be feeling.

Kyle activated his transmitter, working to keep his voice level as he addressed Robbie. "I'm on my way back. Are we good for flight?"

"Yes, just waiting for you stragglers to get back. Dude, I almost left without you," Robbie said. Robbie could fly the shuttle by himself in a pinch, but he certainly was not good at it. He mainly watched over and operated the Valkyrie's complex systems while Kyle did most of the actual flying. Kyle honestly could not tell whether or not Robbie was making a nervous joke with that last statement.

At the exit from the hab module, Kyle stopped by the locker with his name on it and struggled stiffly into a vacuum suit. It was a requirement for the shuttle flight crew to wear these in case of a hull breach. Along with the benefit of keeping Kyle alive in the event of a breach, the suit also hid Kyle's injury. There was nothing anyone could do for it, now, and Kyle did not have any intention of letting anyone know he had been shot, if he could help it. Everyone had enough to worry about already without adding that to the list.

Kyle took one last look around the interior of the Enterprise Star, his home for the past six years, before he descended the docking tube towards his shuttle. A variety of responses greeted Kyle's arrival, ranging from relieved (Oh, thank God you're safe!) to irritated (What the hell took you so long!). The crew chief floated up to him, helping him dog the hatch. "Where's the captain, and Singh?" he asked, a frown creasing his face.

"Where's Major Zinda?" a Sec-Ops trooper shouted from where he was strapped into his chair.

A blaze of emotion washed over Kyle. He turned to the trooper and snarled, "Zinda killed Captain Delgado and Lieutenant Singh. I locked him on the bridge." Kyle gave the man a look that clearly portrayed Kyle's desire to shove the trooper out the nearest airlock. The soldier wisely kept his mouth shut after this revelation.

"Get ready to unhook at my signal," Kyle said over his shoulder has he floated towards the shuttle's command deck. None of the other passengers spoke again, each silent with their own thoughts. As Kyle passed through the Valkyrie's tiny kitchenette, a strange sensation came over him. By now long used to the mechanics of floating about in zero gravity, Kyle got the sinking suspicion that the interior of the shuttle was moving around him, rather than Kyle moving around in the interior. It was a subtle distinction that most people would have missed, but was confirmed when Kyle witnessed a misplaced tube of some kind of space food (freeze dried Sherbet?) float of its own accord and with growing rapidity towards the forward bulkhead.

The Enterprise Star was moving. "Shit," Kyle murmured. Zinda, he thought. Now a distinct vibration could be felt as the force of the thrust from the ISV's massive engines was transferred down the ship's broken spine. Zinda was trying to kill them all, Kyle thought. He was trying to keep him from escaping with whatever information was stored on that tiny jump drive.

Kyle struggled against his own growing weight into the cockpit, buckling himself into his chair clumsily with gloved hands. His side was starting to throb again. Robbie glanced over at him, his terrified expression visible behind his own helmet. "Are we…?" he asked as a chilling metallic groan echoed around them. Up through the windscreen, both men could see the hull of the ISV start to shake and rattle.

"Yes, we are," Kyle replied quickly as he began to throw switches and press buttons. Kyle could have done all of this with his eyes closed. Despite the advances in holographic displays and controls, the Valkyrie's cockpit was still filled with numerous physical buttons, switches, and dials. It was difficult indeed to try to activate a tactile-less holographic display by feel alone. A second metal shriek came from back in the cargo bay. "Chief!" Kyle yelled into his transmitter. "Cut us loose, now!" The growing force on the dock joint was either going to snap the docking tube or peel the Valkyrie's hull open like a sardine can. Neither outcome was encouraging for survival of those on board.

A few frantic seconds went by before the crew chief responded with a panicked voice, "I can't! There's already too much strain on the coupling!" The vibrations were growing as the increasing thrust of the ISV's engines, a thousand meters in front of the habitable sections of the ship, caused the long connecting spar to sling back and forth drunkenly. Groans, pops, and pings echoed in Kyle's ears as the Valkyrie shook along with the mother ship.

Kyle's mind spun into overdrive. His hands flying across his console, Kyle summoned full emergency reverse thrust from the shuttle's orbital maneuvering engines. The Valkyrie was docked to the ISV with its front facing towards the Enterprise Star's stern. Outside below the cockpit, twin rockets on the nose of the Valkyrie belched flame into space. Though not nearly as powerful as the Enterprise Star's massive interstellar drive, the shuttle began to match the pace of ISV quickly due to its significantly lesser mass. "Keep trying," Kyle yelled. "If you don't release us, we're as good as dead!" No pressure, Kyle thought to himself dryly.

Suddenly, all of the vibration and noise ceased – they were free. Kyle heaved a great sigh of relief, only now becoming aware of his own racing heartbeat. He craned his head upwards and watched the huge hull of the ISV pass along outside. Like a great ship of the ocean passing a small dingy, the Enterprise Star accelerated away from Valkyrie 25. Kyle and Robbie both gasped as the hab module came into view, atmosphere venting outwards from dozens of cracks in the composite hull. The streams of vapor solidified in the vacuum of space into delicate ice formations.

Then a chilling revelation hit Kyle and Robbie simultaneously, and they looked at one another with horror. "Shit!" they swore together. After the hab module came the dual rotating arms of ISV's crew duty stations. A collision with this solid structure would be the end of them.

Kyle was trained to make every maneuver in space as slowly and deliberately as possible. Without gravity's familiar reference, it was very easy to become disorientated. Kyle tossed all of this training out the proverbial window as he yanked on the controls, the Valkyrie's OMS rockets firing frantically as Kyle sought to bring them away from the incoming arm of the crew module. The soulless navigation computer shouted electronic obscenities at Kyle's ham-fisted flying.

They soared into the gap between the rotating arms, missing the first one by a mere 50 feet. Dodging the first danger simply lined them up in the crosshairs of the now down-swinging second arm, though. So close, come on babe, don't fail me now, Kyle intoned in his mind. Despite his best efforts, a collision seemed unavoidable. Kyle rolled the Valkyrie over so that its back was facing the arm even as he fought to pull away. If they were going to hit, Kyle wanted to avoid scarring the vulnerable heat-resistant tiles coating the shuttle's underside. Any damage there would prevent them from even attempting to land on Pandora.

At first it looked like he would manage to avoid the guillotine arm, but a sickening crunch echoed through the cockpit as the tip of the crew module dragged across the back of the shuttle, sending it into a tight spin. White thermal tiles exploded off the back of the craft like snow. Alarms blared and warning lights bloomed all over the control panel like a Christmas tree.

Kyle was screaming, Robbie was screaming, it seemed like everyone was giving voice to their concerns. The spinning motion of the shuttle was causing Kyle to become nauseous and adrenaline was coursing through his veins. Normally Kyle would fight back this sweet siren song; he always made better decisions with a more level head. But now he welcomed the rush of adrenaline, its euphoric surge bringing the spinning world into focus. Pandora, space, ISV, Polyphemus, space, Pandora… The horizon twisted drunkenly outside of the cockpit windows, the stars no longer points of light but spinning lines. Kyle found his terrified yelling giving way to maniacal laughter. The threat of impending death does strange things indeed to men. Leaning into the spin as he applied opposite thrust, Kyle finally managed to bring his ship back under control.

Kyle blinked. As suddenly as the crazy rotation had started, it stopped, the sudden transitions throwing Kyle's sense of balance into chaos. "Whoa," he whispered, slowly coming to grips with the fact that they were all still alive.

The exterior view finally stilled long enough for Kyle to focus on one thing without barfing. To his complete shock, Kyle found himself staring straight at another Valkyrie that was heading right towards them. Kyle felt his heart clench momentarily. He had the bewildering thought that somehow Valkyrie 61 had not left at all, but was somehow behind the ISV and now coming straight at them on a suicidal collision course. We won't miss this one, Kyle thought. Ridiculously, Kyle felt cheated that he had survived thus far only to be killed because of Roger Oros's bad flying.

A split second before impact, Kyle saw his own surprised face in the cockpit of the opposite Valkyrie, and he realized what had happened. They were about to pass through the Enterprise Star's mirror shield, a device literally only a few molecules thick that was designed to protect the huge ISV from tiny particles of space debris on its long journey between star systems.

They felt nothing as they connected with the shield. The reflected image around them simply dissolved into mist as Valkyrie 25 blew through. Pandora hung below them, Polyphemus hovered far above, and everything was normal again. Kyle only heard his and Robbie's frantic breathing in the cockpit.

"Holy shit," Robbie finally deadpanned after a bit.

Valkyrie 61 descended into Pandora's atmosphere with all of the drama of a jetliner arriving at its final destination. A misty contrail followed its arc across the sky, and sonic booms echoed across the lush jungle landscape in its wake. Serina gazed out of the cockpit, momentarily distracted by the sight of a mountain the size of a small city floating suspended in the sky, level with her point of view thousands of feet up in the air. Whole rivers plunged off of its sides towards the jungle far below in giant waterfalls.

"It's something, isn't it?" Roger asked her as his hands moved on their own across the control panel, adjusting this and that as his experienced mind saw fit.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

The jungle below them was the most vivid shade of green that Serina had ever seen in her entire life. Coming from such a drab, barren world, this new color was simply indescribable. Infinite shades of green popped out at her. She felt more alive just by looking at the vividness of it all. So many new colors, shapes, and textures assaulted her brain in a joyously one-sided battle as Serina felt her mind blissfully overload at the newness of it all. Strange flying creatures could be seen flitting about in the tree tops.

A giant crater, almost two miles across, broke up the jungle that passed below the shuttle. Sections of bare dirt still showed through, but it was mostly covered in a carpet of new growth. Here and there, giant machines stuck out of the ground, long metal necks straining skyward like some kind of mechanical beast. Even these mining machines were slowly being consumed by the relentless march of green.

"Hell's Gate tower, mine is in sight. Switching over to vertical flight mode now," Roger intoned into the radio. Behind the cockpit, four huge poster-lift engines began to rotate downwards with a gentle thump, two on each delta wing. Roger gently nosed the shuttle up as its aerodynamics changed and their flight speed dropped below 130 knots.

"Roger that, Valkyrie 61. Do not deviate from your flight plan. Scorpion escorts are inbound," A voice from Hell's Gate responded. Following a practice that had been in place ever since humanity started operating on Pandora, helicopter escorts were sent out to accompany the inbound shuttle. A few close calls in the early days was enough to convince people that no one wanted to actually find out what happened when an unlucky banshee was inhaled into one of the Valkyrie's massive jet engines. The choppers would keep any curious airborne creatures a safe distance away from the shuttle.

A soft tone sounded in the cockpit, and Serina glanced down at her displays. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Roger, we're being painted by targeting radar," she told him.

Roger looked over at her console briefly before returning his attention outside. Four heavily armed Scorpion helicopters rose into view around them. Two took up positions on either side of the cockpit, and the last pair dropped back to shadow them. Serina noted that blue paint had been applied in crazy whorls and designs on the wings and tails of the choppers. She waved gingerly at the pilot on her side, who surprisingly waved back. "Management's changed a bit since my last visit," Roger admitted dryly. "Help me watch our course. I'd rather not get shot down today." Serina hastily returned her attention to flying.

Hells' Gate itself finally came into view. Hell Trucks, giant dump trucks that were used to haul unobtanium from the mine back to the base, were arranged on the airfield in a giant "U" shape. Roger was directed to land within the formation. As Roger skillfully rotated the giant Valkyrie around into a stationary hover, one the Scorpion escorts came around to the front. Its pilot skillfully flew the craft backwards, keeping pace with the Valkyrie. Roger grimly noticed that the chopper kept its guns trained on the cockpit even after the shuttle settled gently onto the runway.

Jake, Neytiri, Max, Norm, Hoshiro, and Mal'ek waited at the Valkyrie's stern. The giant craft clicked and popped as its engines cooled down. Two pairs of Sec-Ops troopers flanked the main group, machine guns casually draped across their chests. Perhaps former Sec-Ops troopers would be a better description. Finally, flanking them were two pairs each of stern-faced Omaticayan warriors, bows at the ready, ears still folded back from the noise of the landing shuttle. What no one from the ground could see, by design, were the two dozen Omaticayan warriors crouched in the covered beds and behind the massive tires of the Hell Trucks. Behind all of them, two of the Scorpion gunships hovered at a distance where their noise would not be uncomfortable but still well within weapons range. Any surprises coming out of the Valkyrie's cargo bay would be swiftly dealt with.

Norm, in his human body, shifted nervously from one foot to the other, and he adjusted his exopack for the umpteenth time since he had come outside. Jake placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Easy, friend," he said quietly.

"I know, I know," Norm grumbled. "I'm just excited, that's all," he said.

Jake smiled slightly. "I bet you are."

Neytiri spoke to Norm as well. "You will see your cousin again, Norm." Neytiri was one of the few Omaticaya who felt familiar enough with him to use his first name alone. "He is safe." Norm desperately wanted to believe her. He struggled to keep his emotions in check as he looked towards the shuttle. There was more happening here than just a minor family reunion.

The cargo ramp on the shuttle unlocked with a thump and lowered to the ground accompanied by the sound of whining hydraulics. There was a rush of shimmering atmosphere around the opening hatch as the Earth air vented out. Jake stood up a little straighter, a stern expression coming over his features. Neytiri, her right hand gripping her bow, gently rubbed his back with her free hand.

Inside the shuttle they could see the passengers getting slowly to their feet. At the top of the ramp, two people stood ready – a man dressed in a ship's officer uniform, a woman in more casual clothes. Both people developed looks of increasing unease as they took in the scene outside. The same nervous expression filtered back into the Valkyrie as those on board took notice of the greeting party.

Max stepped forward, arms hanging casually at his side, along with Norm. Hoshiro stood back, always observing, his hand not straying from the grip of his machine gun. Jake made no move towards the shuttle either, his serious golden eyes regarding its occupants warily. His hair had not been cut into a war mohawk, but Neytiri had braided it through with a profusion of red and yellow feathers. "You look like Toruk," she had said, chuckling to herself. His face was painted as well with bold swaths of color, making him appear to be snarling, even when he was not. A white, four-fingered handprint was over his left pectoral. Behind him, Neytiri bore a similar mark. Of course, the handprint marking her own chest had five fingers. A bit of an awkward silence hung in the air, punctuated only by the hovering Scorpions, holding position far away. Finally, Jake broke the standoff, cupping his hands over his mouth and bellowing, "Are you two just going to stand there, or am I gonna have drag you out?" Max sighed from in front of Jake, moving to slap his own forehead before he remembered he was wearing an exopack.

The man and the woman exchanged an anxious glance, not quite sure if the massive Na'vi man was kidding or not. They descended the ramp slowly as their fellows in the shuttle looked on. When they reached Max and Norm, respectful handshakes were exchanged and introductions made. When this was done, Jake finally moved forward, his presence towering over the humans below him.

Max indicated the giant Na'vi beside them and introduced, "And this is Jake Sully, Olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya."

Jake did not kneel, but he bent over far enough to shake hands with the ship's officer. "Miles Kennedy, XO of the Enterprise Star," he said, eyes widening slightly as he realized just how small his own hand was compared to Jake's.

Turning towards the woman, Jake made to offer his hand to her as well. She seemed to be recovering much faster than Miles was. Instead of shaking hands, she touched her hand to her forehead and moved it away, bowing slightly. "Oel ngati kameie, Jake Sully," she said in flawless Na'vi. "May Eywa smile on our meeting," she said. "My name is Dr. Amber Ferris."

Jake face broke into a smile for the first time. "So it seems that not all Tawtute are without manners," he replied.

Amber laughed lightly, and then sighed. She blushed a bit at the compliment. "I am the chief scientist on this flight out. I had hoped that my work here could have complimented Dr. Augustine's, and Norm and your brother Tom's. It appears much has changed in a year."

Jake just nodded, his face clouding over at the mention of his deceased twin brother. "It has," he replied curtly. "This is my mate, Neytiri," Jake said, indicating with a wave of his hand the silent and fierce looking female warrior behind him. While Jake was finding that speaking with the newcomers to be easier than he had expected, Neytiri had no desire yet to engage in conversation. Neytiri nodded tersely towards Miles and Amber.

Before any more could be said, a strange light bloomed from the eastern horizon that caused everyone to shade their eyes. For a few seconds, a new temporary sun added its own illumination. Surprised murmuring rose from those gathered on the runway. "There goes the Enterprise Star," Miles said sadly. He shook his head and glanced at his watch, frowning a bit. "That was early, though."

Norm had finally had enough. He craned his neck, trying to look inside the shuttle. "Please," he asked Miles, "Is Kyle Fischer aboard?"

Miles shook his head. "No," he said. "Pilot Fischer was in command of Valkyrie 25." Miles' eyes narrowed. He glanced over at Max and Hoshiro. "You haven't heard from him yet? They were delayed a bit, but they should have entered the atmosphere by now."

Norm's eyes darted anxiously towards the still artificially bright spot in the sky. He ran his hand through his hair nervously, licking his lips behind his exopack. I don't know what I'd do with myself if he's dead, Norm thought. His eyes began to water, and he turned away from the group, trying to wipe his eyes. It was a tough thing to do discreetly when he had to momentarily raise his exopack. Tension, a horrible feeling of uncertainty, began to draw Norm's stomach into knots.

Max spoke to Hoshiro. "Have we heard anything from the control room, yet? He should have sought landing instructions by now."

Hoshiro shook his head. "I will find the cause for the delay," he said, and turned to walk back towards the buildings. With a quick apology and farewell over his shoulder, Norm trotted away to catch up with Hoshiro. Jake watched him go, his heart beginning to worry right along with his friend. All that Jake cared about was right here. Norm, on the other hand, did not yet have that comfort.

Max readdressed Miles and Amber. He noticed Miles' puzzled look. "Kyle Fischer is Norm's cousin," he explained. Both Miles' and Amber's eyebrows shot up at this news. "Are your people well? I imagine it's been a stressful day for all of you," Max inquired, gently guiding the conversation away.

"Yes, it has," Miles told him. "We are all fine, mostly hungry. No one got a chance to eat after emerging from cryo."

Max glanced up at Jake, who nodded the answer to Max's silent question. To Miles, Max said, "I am afraid we cannot invite your people indoors just yet. But if you can have everyone make their way to the main hangar over there, we can at least get you in the shade. We'll bring out field rations for you guys to eat. Not the best tasting, but they're nutritious." The generally bland tasting gel packs could also be consumed through a straw, an important feature because the refugees would be wearing their exopacks for a while longer. Jake and Max had agreed to keep the survivors outside for the time being. It would reduce the odds that someone would try something funny, due to the fact that the humans would be at a slight disadvantage in the uncomfortable and unfamiliar exopacks. Max smiled reassuringly. "I'm told dinner tonight will be especially good tonight, if that is any comfort."

Miles nodded. "Thank you for your hospitality. I realize we have all put you in a…awkward position."

Jake replied, a bit gruffly, "I am glad you realized. Saves me the trouble of having to explain it to you guys. I am assuming that Captain Delgado is on the last shuttle?"

Miles nodded. "Yes, sir. The captain's the last man off the ship, and all that."

Max clapped his hands. "Let's get everyone to the hangar then, shall we?"

As the Enterprise Star crew and passengers began to disembark, Jake glanced over at Mal'ek briefly. At a slight hand gesture from the Olo'eyktan, Mal'ek let loose an ear piercing, yipping cry. Jake's fellow tribesmen and -women who had been previously hidden in and around the Hell Trucks finally rose into view. They all formed a loose corridor of bodies, directing the flow of people towards the open hangar in the distance. The Na'vi hunters were not exactly trying to be threatening anymore, but the sight of so many 10 foot tall, blue skinned figures appearing out of nowhere was a bit disconcerting to those not expecting it. While for the most part their faces were impassive, a few of the hunters saw fit to give a glare and a hiss to the people walking by. Jake was quite pleased with everyone's startled reaction. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mal'ek grinning impishly.

Miles, who had remained by Jake and Max's side, muttered under his breath. "Jeesh, they aren't kidding, are they?"

Neytiri spoke for the first time. "No, we are not 'kidding' at all." It came out almost as a growl. Miles took an involuntary step away from Jake's mate.

Amber shook her head. "If everything I've heard is true, of course they aren't welcoming us with open arms." She looked at Jake, who was observing her coolly, then back towards Neytiri. "I beg forgiveness for the crimes of my people against yours, Neytiri." She looked Neytiri respectfully in the eye when she said this, but quickly lowered her gaze away when she concluded speaking. Neytiri had inherited her mother's ability to generate a withering stare, and she was using that capacity to full affect right now.

"If you have the same heart as the people you claim to know as friends, then you may yet find a place to live here as well," Neytiri finally said after a while.

With a curse, Kyle banged his fist on the armrest of his chair. "Cycle it again!" he told Robbie. Muttering under his own breath, Robbie dutifully ran though his system checks again. A warning light illuminated again at the same point in the sequence. It was about the sixth time the two of them had run the simulation.

"What does that mean?" the crew chief asked quietly from back in the hatchway.

Robbie growled irritably, "It means that the VTOL jets aren't rotating into the vertical position."

Kyle unbuckled and shoved himself out of his chair, the crew chief moving aside to let him pass into the electronics suite. The gunshot in his side had been throbbing steadily now, despite the dosage of medical foam Kyle had applied. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

Had they survive the destruction of the Enterprise Star only to be left stranded in orbit? Realizing that with the engines running, they had only a few minutes to put as much distance between themselves and the ISV as they could before the overheating matter-antimatter engines detonated. Kyle had activated the Valkyrie's main fusion orbital engines, boosting them on a mad dash to the other side of Pandora. Just as they dipped below the horizon, they witnessed what seemed to be a new, unexpected sunrise. The Enterprise Star finally blew herself up, vaporizing any trace that a 1.5 kilometer long starship had ever existed there.

Typing at a console, Kyle made to manually bypass all of Robbie's normal tests and attempted to rotate the four poster-lift engines manually. They all heard a single sharp mechanical thump from somewhere deep in the Valkyrie's guts. Yet another warning light illuminated, and Kyle felt almost like crying. Their collision with the ISV's crew module had damaged something vital, and they had no way to repair it while in space.

Up from the cockpit, Robbie looked back and suggested in a panicky voice, "They can just send Roger back out to pick us up, right?"

Kyle sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. His helmet was off temporarily and clipped to his belt. After all that had happened, Kyle just wanted a little "fresh" air. "No, we can't do that. The Valkyrie's can't dock together, and we don't have nearly enough spacesuits for all of us to spacewalk over."

Robbie's eyes darted around frantically. A soft beep sounded, momentarily distracting the anxious copilot. "Answer the radio, why don't you," Kyle said. "At least we can tell Hell's Gate that we're all still alive. For now."

As Robbie spoke with Hell's Gate, the crew chief looked over at Kyle. The man's brow was drawn with worry. "This has only cost us our vertical takeoff and landing capability, right?" he asked.

Kyle looked at him, raising a single eyebrow. "Know of any three mile long runways around here that I somehow missed?"

The chief winced. "Right," he muttered. He looked at Kyle, desperately trying to find and cling onto some shred of hope. "You do have a plan to get us out of here, don't you? People are asking. They have a right to know what the situation is."

Kyle nodded, his eyes thoughtful. Despite everything, the impossible situation they were in, the fact that his gunshot wound was hurting more and more with each passing minute…despite all of this, Kyle felt himself fill with a burning desire to live. He inhaled greedily, as if for the first time. The air inside the Valkyrie was not exactly the most pleasant smelling thing he had ever experienced. It rather stank of warm electronics and too many nervous, sweaty human bodies. But to him, all of the sights, sounds, and even smells were just a reminder that he was still very much alive.

He absentmindedly rubbed the pocked where the little flash drive rested. More than just their lives hinged on getting down to the surface of Pandora safely. Even if he had no runway, maybe he could improvise one… Kyle's mind parsed through the problem, creating and discarding various possible solutions at a maniacal pace. Finally, one plausible scenario emerged. Like many solutions thought of by desperate men, Kyle realized he was stretching possibly a bit farther than his reach could obtain. Still, it was better than nothing. To himself, he murmured, "I wonder if there's a straight stretch of river by Hell's Gate."

The crew chief heard him and chuckled softly, then stopped when he saw Kyle's expression. "Wait, you're serious?"