Asbriong 6

The pressure and light pushed reality to a distant howling sense in the first few seconds. Then the body begins to recover, a survival form of efficiency.

Hable gripped the steering column like a lifeline. Through it he felt the vibration of the craft hurtling skyward. Every second they traveled changed the pull of gravity, and it was the crew's job to find that perfect point in between Ambiter and Decceter, preferably when it coincided with a landing spot on a midrock. This balance was called Asbriong, when up and down became meaningless.

"Bring right!"

Pol's voice ripped through Hable's reverie with a metallic echo from the sound pipe. He hauled the column and watched the light change direction by a few degrees.

"Hold!"

Hable slammed back to center. There was little finesse when it came to steering. Some of the crew hollered to each other. The researchers cringed in their seats.

Only a few minutes, then Pol would direct them into a canyon, as close to Asbriong as they could get for a good landing.