The re-entry into Earth’s atmosphere is a violent, bone-jarring descent that feels less like flying and more like falling through a blender.
Inside the cramped medical bay of the Artemis VII, the air is thick with the smell of ozone, burnt sugar, and the sharp, metallic tang of my own degrading nervous system. I am strapped to the med-bay cot, my left arm completely numb, a dead weight resting against the sterile sheets. The neuro-regenerators Margot is pumping into my bloodstream feel like liquid ice in my veins, but they do nothing to dull the diffuse, blinding static that crackles behind my eyes. Every time the transport’s thrusters fire to adjust our angle of attack, a spike of white-hot agony shoots down my spine, settling into the marrow of my bones.
Kade is beside me. He has unsea
