Asbriong 9

"Haul up!" Hable ordered. The man at the column obeyed instantly.

"What in gods name are you doing?" Pol's voice screamed through the line. "We'll miss!"

There was no time to explain. At the nose of the box, Pol would only see their trajectory alter, but didn't know about the chute inhibiting the air rudders. If they couldn't angle hard enough, the crash would end their lives.

"I'm going to pull it back in! Get those windows blocked!" Hable pointed, then opened the hatch out the back.

The wind buffeted him like a rag doll, and beat his ears into a muffled silence. He hooked his belt ratchet onto the nearest rope and began cranking until it was taut. The shadow of the midrock obscured the sun. He hooked the second rope and repeated. One left.

In the shared sky, moments away from life or death, Hable snagged the last rope, body burning with exertion, staring out into the expanse as they fell, or flew.

The chute caught air.

The box lurched. Hable was ripped from the hatch and sent spinning into the open air.