By Morgan Hannah, Life & Style Editor
I’m okay. My hands shakily survey each part of me. Nothing is broken. Not even my spacesuit. But I can’t say the same for my ship. The observatory window is smashed in, shards of glass like teeth haphazardly sitting in rotting gums are what’s left in place. Outside, the atmosphere is a deep shade of vermillion, it looks like light orange clouds are floating in the sky. With a grunt, I sit up and take in my immediate surroundings, I’ve got to assess the damage. Cabinets and compartments are opened, all sorts of instruments, knobs, and documents, as well as my rations are strewn across the ship. Electrical tape hangs loose in sticky clumps from the ceiling, and perspiration has collected inside my helmet, dripping down like sweat. Is it hot here? It’s really hard to tell through the suit. Then the offending thought: Where is here? I’ve crash landed, but where?
