Mach Menket's eyes didn't leave his datapad as he hurried down the corridor. He held in his hands the test results of at least thirty patients and he was very, very aware of how important they were. Medical equipment was highly valued on Yavin 4 and supplies seemed perpetually low. The war made the transporting of medicine and machinery almost impossible. Nothing could be wasted, which is why Mach clutched the datapad safely between his trembling fingers, more afraid of what the CMO would do to him than any Imperial officer.

His fingers drummed against the keypad of the medcentre door; the pattern was second nature now, he didn't even have to look at the numbers. Mach was in too much of a hurry to wait for the doors to open fully, so he worked his way through the gap once it was wide enough. He tried not to make too much noise as he scurried through the ward, the patients were all trying to sleep and he'd never hear the end of it if someone woke up on his account.

Darkness filled the room, pressing against the walls, but one light in the distance was all Mach needed to guide him. Past the first ward lay the private rooms for consultations. They were hardly state of the art, just a curtain separated each of the four rooms from the other. To call them 'rooms' was also pushing it, but three walls and a curtain was better than anyone could hope for so deep into the war. Mach scurried along the passage dissecting the four rooms and through the plastic curtain at the other end which opened up onto the second ward.

This long rectangular room was not nearly as busy as the first. It was reserved for intensive care, where the patients who needed it could be under constant supervision. Some of them hadn't seen the light of day for weeks, maybe even months. The doctors and nurses on this second ward were trained in critical care and dealt with the most extreme cases. Although, that kind of expertise was getting harder to come by these days and many, like Mach, felt very out of their depth.

There were quite a number of doctors and nurses on duty that night, patient numbers had increased to match the Empire's growing ferocity. Most of the staff were buzzing around one bed in particular, right at the end of the row. Jyn Erso was awake and they were doing everything in their power to keep her that way. Mach stood back and watched them all, just soaking in the sight of eight or so people all fighting to help one woman. A few of the other patients were also watching with interest but soon turned over and went back to sleep. It was nothing they hadn't seen before, there was always someone in Ward Two caught between life and death.

Mach met the CMO's eye from across the room. He was a small man with thinning hair and a terrible scowl, but looks were deceiving. Casteda Tem was actually a very kind man but war hardens people, inside and out. When he spotted Mach hesitating by the door, he ever so slightly moved his head, letting him know he was allowed in.

"Here." Mach handed over the information he'd been entrusted with, trying and failing to appear nonchalant. Casteda didn't look at the datapad, his old eyes were trained on the hospital gurney and the orbiting staff. It was rare that he was on duty so late; his position, age and infamous temper meant he was only ever called if it was an emergency. The Rebellion's newest daughter was awake, just barely. He supposed this counted. They watched the staff work for a moment before Mach asked, "How's she doing?"

"She'll be alright by the morning." Casteda's voice was low and soft, a still, calm figure in the middle of a storm. He looked down at the datapad and brushed his fingers across the screen, flicking through the test results whilst Mach admired the team working on Erso. With a grunt of approval, Casteda tucked the datapad under his arm and thanked the trainee nurse. "You can go, Menket."

"Thank you, sir. Goodnight." As Mach turned and walked away, he tried to control his pleased smile. The CMO had remembered his name, that was all he needed to make his long night worth it. He passed back through the consultation rooms and onto Ward One. The room was still and silent, only interrupted by the softly beeping machinery. Now that Mach wasn't in so much of a hurry, he crept through the ward as best he could. He had been on duty for almost twelve hours on and off and he was ready to pass out on his uncomfortable single bed but he took his time, not wanting to disturb any of their patients.

All the beds were full, it was just one of those days. It wasn't often there were more than twenty beds available and there was always, always someone being treated. As Mach neared the exit, he found that he'd been mistaken. There was one empty bed. The sight made him pause. He was sure they had no spare beds that night, someone had even mentioned it in passing. Maybe it was just the dark playing tricks on him.

Mach sighed and rubbed his tired eyes with his thumb and index finger. Yes, he definitely needed to go to bed. Once again, he tapped in the passcode then stood back to allow the doors to slide open. A sound made him falter. It was so faint he almost didn't catch it, he probably wouldn't have heard it at all if it weren't so quiet on the ward. It sounded like metal clinking against metal. Mach looked over his shoulder but saw nothing.

Shaking his head, he turned and left the medcentre. The corridors were empty, no one in their right mind was awake on base past midnight. The strict curfew meant that only those working were allowed out of their rooms unless they had a very good reason. Mach only got a few meters down the corridor before he realised the doors had taken far longer than usual to close. Mach stared at them, then looked around the corridor.

It was probably just one of the medical staff leaving after him. But then again, everyone was busy watching Erso and he hadn't heard anyone following him. They must've been moving fast too because there was no one around and he couldn't hear any footsteps. Mach knew he was being stupid but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. He allowed the thought to bloom for a moment before he dashed it away with a scornful click of his tongue. At this rate, it'd be morning by the time he got back to his room and he only had a few hours before his next shift.

Mach turned the corner and followed the gloomy halls round to B Block, living quarters reserved for medical staff so that they could get to the medcentre within minutes if needed. He'd just caught sight of his door when he heard something move behind him. This time, he definitely wasn't imagining it. Mach span around, ready to defend himself. He tried to be brave as he slowly moved his gaze across the corridor, praying that it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Then a shadow slipped across the far wall and all Mach's bravery evaporated.

He turned on the spot and hurried towards his quarters. When he heard footsteps behind him, Mach picked up his feet and all but ran back to his room. Against his better judgment, he looked over his shoulder as he was typing in the passcode. There was nothing there. He immediately began to feel foolish. Thank the Gods no one was around to see his nervous little sprint, he'd have a hard time explaining that to his colleagues. Mach took in a deep breath to settle his nerves then turned back to his door. He heard nothing as the lock opened and thought he was safe. Then his back hit the wall hard and he felt something cold and sharp press against his jugular.

"Which way to the hangar?"

At last, there was quiet in the medcentre. Those on shift dared not allow themselves to hope it would carry on into the night but for now, they could breathe easy again. Jyn Erso was stable. Her vitals all looked good and she was responsive, a sign of the beginnings of recovery. They tried to explain that she was on the mend and in good hands before she was gently guided back to sleep. Jyn didn't really have the strength to talk but in a small voice, she asked about her friends, the others in the Rogue One crew. They didn't tell her much, only that everyone was safe. That seemed enough for her and Jyn slipped back into sleep, a tiny sort of satisfied smile on her scarred face.

Once she was asleep, the leading doctor, Naphía, stepped away from the bed, pulling off her gloves with a sharp snap. She gave Casteda Tem a tired smile which he faintly returned.

"She'll have to stay here tonight, there's no room anywhere else."

The CMO hummed his agreement. He was a man of very few words usually, but that night had taken its toll on them all.

Naphía pulled at her bun, ran her fingers through her hair then pulled it back up again tight. She spotted a porter waiting by the door, watching the nurses scurry around with calm disinterest. Compared to the rest of the staff, he looked positively serene. "It's alright," Naphía called to him, keeping her voice low. "She's staying here."

"There's a spare bed in the first ward," the porter said, gesturing behind him vaguely.

Naphía shook her head, already walking to the door. She'd been woken up at the same time as Casteda and was very much looking forward to going back to bed.

"No, that ward's definitely full. I did the final count on my last rounds." She was too tired to argue and hoped that would be the end of it, but the porter suddenly looked nervous.

He glanced between Naphía and the direction of the first ward. "When I walked through just now there was an empty bed."

The whole room seemed to grow quiet, the rhythmic noise of machinery growing faint. All eyes turned to Naphía. Even Casteda was staring. Trying to keep her breathing steady, she turned and pushed aside the plastic screen. She could hear footsteps chasing her own as she passed through the screening rooms and onto Ward One. The room was so quiet that it seemed to buzz in her ears, accompanied by the thudding of her heart. Each bed was occupied by a sleeping Rebel. The footsteps petered out; Naphía could feel her colleagues all huddling together behind her. No one said a word but their curiosity was tangible.

The medcentre door swished open and a nurse stepped onto the ward, her head buried in a datapad. A rectangle of light struck the floor through the open door, illuminating the furthest corner of the room. The fourteenth bed was empty. Even from a distance, they could see the patient's neatly folded clothes were missing from their place on the bedside table.

Naphía stared at the straps they'd used to hold the patient down. They were meant for those who were a risk to themselves and the staff, and could hold down even the burliest of soldiers. On bed fourteen, the thick straps had been sliced in two, so now they stood up at odd angles like old wiring. Everyone, including the nurse who was still standing shocked in the doorway, stared at the empty bed. They all seemed to remember who patient fourteen was at the same time.

"Oh, shit."

The hangar, much like the rest of the base, had settled into silence as the night crawled slowly on. Only one light was on, illuminating a single ship. Bodhi was sat in the pilot's seat. Cables lay at his feet, a blanket of red, green and yellow that might've tripped him if he tried to stand. He was considering risking it, he'd been bent at an odd angle for almost an hour now and his legs were starting to ache.

Pliers in one hand and frazzled wire in the other, he ducked his head under the control wheel. Bodhi gripped a torch between clenched teeth, trying to angle his head so that the light hit the panel he was trying to repair. This was his second to last assignment before he would have to go to bed. His eyes were already starting to sting but he wished he could stay in the X-Wing all night. Yunlo would come along eventually and send him off to his quarters, it happened most nights.

Bodhi didn't like his room. It was small, certainly bigger than his quarters on the Empire's base, but it felt like the thick darkness pressed against him, sometimes until he couldn't breathe. Most nights, he just lay awake on top of his thin covers and stared up at the ceiling until morning rose. At least if he was working in the hangar he was doing something worthwhile, he was of use.

He rolled the sprouting metal between his thumb and finger until they were uniform and he could reconnect the cable. X-Wings weren't much different to the Empire's fighters, but Bodhi had never been allowed anywhere near them, he hadn't passed the exams needed. That was a thought that kept him up most nights. What if he'd passed the tests? What if he'd been picked to be an Imperial pilot? Would he be lying awake on the Death Star instead? Would he have the same heavy conscience? Would he even be alive?

Footsteps brought him away from his thoughts. Bodhi stopped what he was doing to listen to Yunlo walking around the hangar. He took a deep breath- in and out- then finished up his repairs. He sat up, groaning when his back twinged. A young man shouldn't be aching like this, Bodhi thought, and it almost made him smile. He bent his head and slipped out of the pilot's seat.

Once out in the hangar, he looked around, squinting against the darkness. He couldn't see Yunlo. Her footsteps had stopped so perhaps she'd gone to bed. Bodhi readjusted his grip on his tool bag and began to make his way over to the last ship on the row. He clambered inside without looking behind him. This ship was considerably more spacious than the last, he didn't have to bend double like he did on the fighters. This cargo ship wasn't unlike the kind he used to fly. A cockpit with room for two pilots, a gangway for loading and then a large cuboid body behind that. Bodhi stared emptily at the hollow storage space, wondering if anyone even knew where he was right now, wondering if there was anyone thinking about him, missing him.

He heard footsteps again, faster this time. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't think anything of it. Bodhi sighed and slumped down on one of the long benches attached at either side of the storage space. He rubbed his eyes, not even noticing when the footsteps began to approach the ship. It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open. Even Bodhi couldn't argue that he should probably get some sleep soon. One last repair and then bed.

He placed his hands on either side of him, palms flat against the metal bench, and prepared himself to get up and take a look at the broken navigation system. A creak made his fingers tighten around the curve of the bench. He looked up when he realised the footsteps had stopped. A figure was standing in the doorway, just a shadow. It wasn't Yunlo. This woman was taller, broader. Her hair was wild and her eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of the ship. She was unnervingly still.

"You're her," Bodhi whispered, finding he couldn't look away. The woman who'd fallen like a star onto Yavin 4. The woman the doctors were all afraid of. She held a scalpel, long and thin, in her right hand. It was pointed down at the floor but this did little to assuage his nerves.

"Are you a pilot?"

Her voice made him jump. It was low and gravelly like she hadn't spoken in a long time. He was so surprised to hear her speak that he forgot what she asked.

"What?" His mouth felt desert dry. His question was barely audible but the woman must've caught it. She took a step closer and Bodhi tried not to flinch.

"Are you a pilot?" she asked again. She was still wearing her medcentre clothes, a stark white shirt and trousers made of a horrible, flimsy material he remembered from his time on the ward. She had the strange clothes she was found in tucked under her arm.

"Yes." Bodhi's mouth opened before he could stop himself. The woman took another step closer and he reconsidered his answer, his gaze switching nervously between her dark eyes and the scalpel in her hand. "Well, no. Sort of. I-"

"Can you fly this thing?" She kept her distance, looking just as wary of him as he was of her, which Bodhi almost found funny. When she didn't get a reply, the woman walked right up to him. He scrambled to his feet, trying to put some space between them. She still kept the scalpel pointed down at the ground but that could change in an instant. "Can you fly this ship?"

Slowly, Bodhi nodded. A flash of relief crossed the woman's face before she plunked her clothes down on the bench between them.

"I need you to take me to Alderaan."

At last, Bodhi found his voice. He shook his head, trying his best to stay calm.

"What? No, no I can't-"

"You will."

The woman dropped the scalpel down on the bench, she didn't seem to think he'd try and use it against her. Bodhi was sure she didn't need any kind of weapon, she could probably incapacitate him in a few seconds if what happened in the medcentre was anything to go by.

"Look, I'm sorry, but I can't." Bodhi watched as she pulled on one half of her uniform, a dark blue jacket. She moved with such precision, every action reminded him of her strength, but her forehead was wrinkled in pain as she pulled her arms through the sleeves. She gritted her teeth, bending slightly in the middle. He could see a thick white bandage just poking through a gap in her hospital shirt, wrapped tight around her ribcage. According to the doctor, she was so battered and bruised she would need to stay in the medcentre for weeks. It was a miracle she'd survived whatever ordeal she'd been through. Bodhi could hardly believe she'd made it as far as the hangar. "I don't even know how to get to-" The woman sharply pulled her jacket over her shoulders then grabbed the scalpel.

"I am Mara Verbanti, Captain of the Royal Guard." She raised her stolen weapon and pointed it right at Bodhi, close to his heart. "I need a pilot and I am ordering you to take me to Alderaan."

Bodhi couldn't be certain that he wasn't dreaming. He must've fallen asleep at the wheel of the X-Wing he was supposed to be fixing. This was all some elaborate, bizarre nightmare that his exhausted subconscious had concocted. How could this strange, terrifying woman be standing there right in front of him with a blade pressed to his chest?

Bodhi watched, holding his breath, as the woman, Mara, she'd said, turned her back on him. She walked towards the door and in one blinding moment of hopeful stupidity, he thought she'd changed her mind. But instead of leaving the ship, she found the right switch and closed the door. Bodhi heard his fate sealed by the hiss and clunk of the shuttle door locking tight with them inside.

"This ship is being repaired." He tried to protest, suddenly feeling a lot braver now there was some distance between them. "It's not ready to fly yet. I'm-" He stopped when a piercing alarm drowned him out. Mara suddenly looked panicked, the hand wrapped around her ribs tightening its grip. Bodhi was able to slip past her into the flight deck to see what could be making such a noise at that time of night.

Peering out of the viewscreen, he could see that the doorway to the hangar was crammed with dozens of soldiers. They were all armed, dressed head to toe in protective gear, and hurrying towards them. This woman, whoever she was, must be incredibly dangerous to warrant that many Rebels. "Do they know you're-" Bodhi was interrupted again when Mara grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and pulled him backwards into the pilot's seat, exposing his neck.

"Take us up now!"

Fearing for his life, Bodhi gritted his teeth and nodded as best he could with a scalpel near his jugular. Mara let go of his collar and he leaned forward, his hands finding the right switches and dials easily. She watched over his shoulder as the Rebels grew closer and closer, seeping across the hangar like water. They raised their blasters, ordering them to exit the shuttle. Bodhi had never flown a ship like this for the Rebellion, all he had was his experience from the Scarif mission. At least then he was flying of his own volition.

Just as he fired up the engines, the Rebel captain warned them one final time. He glanced back at the woman behind him but she gave no indication of giving in. Bodhi apologised to the Rebels under his breath as the ship left the ground. He felt rather than saw Mara grip the material of his seat as they steadily rose. Bodhi carefully guided them over the tops of the other ships, at least they wouldn't be able to add damage to Rebellion property to his list of charges when they were inevitably caught. The Rebels let loose a few blasts but they couldn't risk damaging the shuttle or any of the other nearby ships. Bodhi feared they wouldn't be nearly so concerned about hitting him.

Mara couldn't help grinning as they soared towards the wide, open mouth of the hangar. She could see the stars beckoning her. It was a ridiculous plan but it was all she had. Letting her lie there on a medcentre bed had been the doctors' first big mistake. It had given her time to think, to plan. Their second big mistake was putting an idiot in charge of her care, an idiot who left their medical equipment lying around. Even with her hands bound, all she had to do was reach out and grab the sharpest thing she could see. After that, it was just a matter of patience.

Mara had trained her whole life for situations such as this. It wasn't the first time she'd been in a tight spot and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Usually, her captors were thugs, villains. She never thought she'd have to fight her own people, Rebels on her side. But really, there was no "side". To Mara, there was no Empire, no Resistance, her only thought was of the princess and Leia needed her. Not even the Rebels could get in her way.

She left the pilot to navigate the hangar door whilst she tried to relieve some of the pain in her chest. Her ribs were still broken, she'd been scheduled for a bacta tank the next morning but she couldn't wait that long. Mara checked the bandages around her middle. It was more of a support brace, a thin sheet of material pulled tight around her body, keeping her bones in place whilst they healed, though it did little to stem the pain.

Gritting her teeth, she pulled off the awful medcentre shirt and put her jacket back on. Navy blue and lightweight, her uniform was comforting now when she needed it most. Mara hooked the brass buttons through the material then tugged the jacket into place. She rested her hand over the intersecting triangles on her shoulder, the embroidery lining up perfectly with her tattoo beneath it. She'd just pulled on her trousers when the shuttle jolted forwards. Mara threw out her arm and grabbed onto the side of the ship, swearing as her action caused her ribs to smart. She stumbled into the cockpit, grabbing onto the co-pilot's seat to help her stay upright.

"What's happening?" They'd left Yavin 4 behind them now, she could see it growing smaller and smaller out of the corner of the viewscreen. It was not the deserted, backwater station she'd feared. As far as she could see, the moon was covered in a thick green forest, dark and uninviting. The blackness of space enveloped them slowly but the glow of thousands of console lights lit up the anxious look on the pilot's face.

"I can't take you to Alderaan."

He was struggling with the control wheel, one hand trying to steer them while the other darted between blaring controls.

"What?" Mara toppled backwards as they finally left Yavin 4's atmosphere. The shuttle stopped tossing them about but the ride was by no means smooth. The metal grate rattled beneath her feet, sending painful shudders up through her body. The engine groaned sickeningly and even Mara, who knew nothing about flying, could tell that something was very wrong.

"The navigation system is broken." The ship was shaking so much that Bodhi could hardly stay in his seat. It was clear that the nav system was not the only thing wrong with this shuttle.

"Then fix it." Mara was flung forwards into the seat she was holding onto as the ship rocked again. She cried out, bending double but she was determined not to show any weakness. The pilot was taller than her, that seemed to be his only advantage, but she was hurt and she wasn't sure how well she could defend herself.

Bodhi tried to keep them on a steady course but the shuttle was extremely resistant. The steering was off, the thrusters seemed on the verge of stalling, they may as well have been sitting in a tin can for all the ship was worth.

"I don't know if I can," he said, turning to face his captor. She had seemed so arcane lying nameless in a hospital bed. Now he knew she was just as intimidating as people feared and he really didn't want to die trapped in a cargo shuttle after all that he'd been through.

"But you're a pilot," Mara said, staring at him as best she could considering the bucking ship and the pain in her chest.

Bodhi shook his head, so focused on trying not to lose control of the shuttle that his explanation consisted of just a few short words.

"I was a pilot, now I'm a mechanic."

"Even better," Mara reasoned but her stolen pilot shook his head again.

"I've never fixed a system like this before, I was only going to have a look at it when you-"

Mara really didn't have time for this. She had already wasted precious hours lying on a medcentre ward, the princess could be anywhere by now. If she didn't get back to Alderaan fast, there was no telling what the Empire might do to her.

"Just drop me off on the nearest planet." Mara ducked out of the flight deck, trying to locate the scalpel she'd stolen from the ward. They'd taken her blaster from her and she didn't have time to look for it or find another before she left. A small surgical knife was all she had to defend herself with, that and her training. Hopefully, it would be enough. "Anywhere with a connection to the Resistance."

"Like Yavin 4?" Bodhi called back to her, his resentment overpowering his fear for a moment. She needed him to fly the shuttle, she couldn't kill him. Although, he had no doubt that she wouldn't think much of causing him enormous pain. He heard her march back into the cockpit and worried he'd got himself into even more trouble but Mara only gave him a scathing glare. She waved her hand at the battered console, her lip curled with disgust.

"Just steer this bloody thing, flyboy," she muttered before turning around and stalking back into the cargo hold.

Bodhi watched her leave, trying not to let out a huge sigh of relief. He glanced in the direction she'd gestured, fingers drumming anxiously against the control panel to his right. Then he saw a red light flicker into life. His hand froze, the drumming stopped. The cargo shuttle Mara had chosen was unfortunately on its last legs. The comms system was wrecked, otherwise he'd be calling the base right that second to explain why a defected Imperial pilot had stolen a ship in the dead of night. Again. The hydraulics were barely responsive, the engine was older than him, and the primary flight display was warped and frazzled. It was a miracle he'd got it into the air at all. And yet, it appeared the sensors were all working wonderfully.

"Oh, kriff." Bodhi sat up straighter in his seat, trying to peer around the viewscreen. The danger was near but he couldn't see anything. He tried his best to stay calm as he yanked the console wheel around, turning the ship to give him a better view. The red light continued to flicker out of the corner of his eye. Bodhi jumped out of his seat. Without the flight display, he had no peripheral and no context, he was flying blind. He had to stretch himself right over the flight console and peer around the side of the ship, his forehead pressing against the cold glass, the only thing separating him from the stars.

At last he saw it, twisting yellow and orange energy arcing through space, heading right for them. "Shit!" Bodhi dropped back into his seat and immediately began to steer them out of the path of the solar flare. He should've known. He should've known something like this would happen. Nothing was ever bloody easy.

Mara came back into the flight deck, frowning at her stolen pilot.

"What?"

Bodhi was too busy trying to get the steering to work, he didn't have time to explain but he didn't need to. The ship rocked again, altering its course, and Mara got a perfect view of what was making Bodhi panic. Bright clouds of energy swam across the emptiness, so powerful they would undoubtedly feel its effect on Yavin 4. Bodhi cursed every bone in his captor's body. They'd been warned about the flare early that morning, they were expecting radio blackouts and huge power failures. Yavin, the sun their resistance base orbited, had been experiencing fluctuations in its magnetic field. Like the sudden release of a twisted rubber band, the magnetic fields explosively realigned, driving vast amounts of energy into space. Flares could last minutes or hours, propelling mass forward in a single direction. Their direction.

"Oh, shit," Mara whispered.

Bodhi had never moved so quickly in all his life. His hands flew between switches and dials, trying to remember all his training and get them away from the flare. But the cargo shuttle was so old and useless, he couldn't get it to comply. He slammed his palms against the console with a frustrated cry, panicked eyes darting between the curling energy closing in and the warning lights flashing all around him. The ship was too slow, the split-rudder unresponsive. He opened his mouth to tell Mara that there was nothing he could do but it was too late.

The furious energy hit the side of the cargo shuttle, knocking Mara off her feet. She flew backwards into the cargo hold, landing on her side and crushing her ribs. She screamed in agony but she was drowned out by the roar of solar energy that washed over them, swallowing the ship.

Bodhi managed to stay in his seat, trying desperately to set up some last minute shields. They were going to survive this. He wasn't going to die like this, not now, not here. The flare swept them along like a leaf caught in a stream, spinning and tumbling across the system. They couldn't tell how long they were caught up in the blast, all they could hear was the rush of energy that surrounded them. Bodhi could hardly keep track of his position but he kept the ship as stable as he could, one hand on the console wheel, the other trying to buckle himself down. He couldn't see his captor but she was the least of his worries now. They were approaching a planet, tiny and unassuming, but their only hope.

Bodhi had a plan, a stupid plan, but a plan nonetheless. What did he have to lose? He waited until the ship was about to point in the right direction then redirected all the remaining fuel. It wasn't much but hopefully, it would be enough to push them out of the flare. The moment the tiny planet came into view again, Bodhi fired the twin thruster engines, propelling the ship forward with such speed that he was plastered to his seat. The pressure weighing down on him was almost unbearable but they only had the fuel for one go at this, he couldn't miss

The ship rocketed forwards, still spinning, towards the yellow planet below. Bodhi groaned as the g-force pushed him back, his hands gripping the steering console so tight that his knuckles turned pale. The little shuttle careered across open space like a dart, flying so fast that he had to close his eyes to stave off the dizziness. They fell soundlessly, a tiny speck against the stars. As the planet rose up to meet them, Bodhi fired up the retrorockets, praying that it would be enough before the pressure became too much and he slipped into unconsciousness.