I tried the electronic engines from the stern, setting them in
reverse. The streams of their light glowed from the stern, forward
along our hull, and flared down from our bow toward the Lunar surface.
But no atmosphere was here to give resistance. Perhaps the electronic
streams checked our fall a little. The pumps gave us pressure just in
the last minutes, to slide a few of the hull plates. But our bow
stayed down. We slid, like a spent rocket falling.
I recall the horror of that expanding Lunar surface. The maw of
Archimedes yawning. A blob. Widening to a great pit. Then I saw it was
to one side, rushing upward.
"Gregg, dear one--good-bye."
Her gentle arms about me. The end of everything for us. I recall
murmuring, "Not falling free, Anita. Some hull plates are set."
My dials showed another plate shifting, checking us a little further.
Good old Snap!