Asbriong 12

"Pol, take steering."

The man grimaced silently as they switched places. With everyone crowded in the rear of the box, the weight might just be enough to angle the craft using the rudder and air brakes.

"You going fore?"

Hable nodded. "Listen for me."

He descended feet first in a semi-weightless drop. Shards of glass bounced around the cabin and straps whipped at odd intervals. He kept his eyes slit and mouth tightly closed, lowering his body further until his boots touched the frame. Crouching, he felt along the edge until he was able to open the hatch and climb into the nose.

There was a single porthole here giving view of their trajectory. He gripped the handholds and rested in a pushup position with the speaking tube halfway between his ear and mouth. As he hoped, the sun glinted off a body of water.

"Full 3/4 and lock!" he shouted.

Pol's tinny voice replied "Locked!" and the craft tilted violently once more. "You coming back up?"

"Nope. If we die, I wanna see it."

"And you think I don't?"