Chapter 6: The Iron Coffin

The transition from the roar of re-entry to the cradle of the ocean was not a relief; it was a different kind of terror. Inside the Pirs Module, the air was thick with the smell of scorched insulation, ozone, and the copper-tang of blood.

The gravity, which had been a crushing monster during their descent, had settled into a heavy, oppressive blanket. After months of weightlessness, Elara felt as though her bones were made of lead. Every movement was a chore, every breath a conscious effort against the weight of her own chest.

"Is everyone... alive?" Elara’s voice was a dry raspy shadow of itself. She was hanging sideways in her harness, the module listing (leaning to one side) at a sharp twenty-degree angle.

"Checking in," Jun groaned. He was slumped over his station, a dark streak of blood leaking from a cut on his forehead where his tablet had struck him during the splashdown. "I think... I think my ribs are cracked. But I’m here."

From the shadows near the docking hatch, a hea