text: Fenix hit the atmosphere hard. He felt the Lady Gray shudder in protest as the air outside thickened, fighting against the ungainly bulk of the ship forcing its way towards the surface through the night sky. He imagined the dull pitted gray of the ship’s underbelly slowly began to turn a deep orange and then a white hot, as the ablative plating was slowly burnt away. That would need replacing, he sighed to himself. Safely nestled in the cockpit and buckled down into the acceleration couch, Fenix scanned the readings being thrown across his lenses and display screens. It was hot and stuffy in the cabin. The stale air being recycled continuously by the oxygenator did nothing to pull the rank smell of his unwashed body from the air. It had been weeks since he had been able to do anything more than cursory wipe down with antibacterial towels. He tortured himself once more with the thought of the bath he would take when this job was over, trying to calculate how much of his profit he could afford to spend on the water allowance needed for such a luxury. A small incessant chirping from his nearest display was demanding attention. As he pulled the screen closer, dragging his thumb across the small angry looking notification in the top most corner. A spew of data slid past his eyes, listing levels and temperatures in the various tanks and equipment throughout the ship. The rear starboard side fuel tank was reporting a slow loss in pressure again. Slightly worrying, but it had been reporting that for weeks now and nothing he did seemed to fix the issue. He had even resorted to shouting and threatening it but to no avail. He muted the warning and added it to the list of things to investigate when he was next able to afford a full service. The flight information for his current descent was running as a constant feed in his lenses. He absorbed most of the incoming information on a subconscious level while his main focus was fixed on the feed from the hull cameras. He scanned through the clouds and highlighted his destination, a small outcropping of islands off the south coast of England. He’d made this trip dozens of times now, and so far he'd had no major issues. Which somewhat troubled his superstitious mind. Too many good runs in a row was never a good sign. But then neither were too many bad runs, he mused. You couldn’t really call these things until something happened. But he had the feeling something was bound to catch up with him sooner rather than later. He could feel the fatigue of the past weeks starting to make itself felt, its delicate tendrils creeping into his mind and limbs. Whispering into his ear to sleep. He dialed in an order for the ship to administer his preferred concoction of stimulants and analgesics to fight off the need for rest. After a brief pause, two small capsules were spat out of the dispenser to his right, which he snached up and swallowed dry. As he waited for them to kick in, he checked and then rechecked his entry coordinates and those of his destination, making the habitual scan for the tell-tale pings that would indicate his craft was being monitored. Everything seemed to be in order. The overlapping satellites and sentry drones that monitored the upper atmosphere had the occasional hole appear in their coverage that he was able to take advantage of and slip through. Still, it was hard to hide a ship hurtling from the sky in a fireball of its own making. Smuggling was no one's first choice for work, but the pay was good and he was desperate. What made it slightly easier these days was the exponential increase of traffic to and from the colonies scattered across the edge of the solar system, who were exploiting the mineral rich asteroids of the outer belt. And exploiting them had become the new gold rush as companies and individuals fought to grab a share of the market. Fenix was just one more trying to make ends meet. The shaking reverberating through the ship had reached its peak. Fenix was almost unable to hear himself think over the noise of the interior rattling. Things began coming loose in the cabin. Photos had fallen and a number of his trinkets had been sent scattering across the small cramped space. It was coming up to his least favorite part of the reentry. He was waiting until the very last second to deploy his thrusters to slow the ship, as local authorities would be suspicious if their scans caught the sudden ignition of the engines anywhere over 1000 meters. He fired off a quick prayer to whatever deity was looking down on him this time and, a little under his target altitude, hit the thrusters. The couch swelled and cushioned his body as the forces on his fragile body multiplied while his organs tried to escape out of his throat. The ship slowed from its free fall descent and he switched to atmospheric flight. Short stubby wings angled out from the body of the hull allowing him to steer the craft towards a small cove below. Landing belly down in the slowly churning surf, the cold sea water rapidly cooled the ship’s battered and scorched plating. He unbuckled himself from the couch and stood unsteadily, having to stoop due to the confines of the interior. He peered out of the front view port to see a group of small boats making their way towards him from the beach. Their outboard motors kicking up white tails as they cut through the dark water. He caught his reflection in the port side window as he moved about the small space. He didn’t strike an imposing figure. Skinny and malnourished from his time spent in zero gravity environments. His coveralls hung from his body, sagging, in odd places as he hadn't been able to afford the full body modifications to fully adapt to long term space travel. His greasy black hair, which was swept back from his face revealed deep craggy lines across his forehead and cheeks, while the three week growth of scraggly beard did nothing to hide his hollow cheeks. It turns out a diet of narcotics and cheap coffee can only get you so far, he thought wryly to himself. “Oh well”, he said out loud, to the empty cabin. “Looks like this intrepid space traveler will have to do for now”. He reached up and unfasted the heavy locks holding the hatch closed and heaved himself up and out into the cold night air to meet the party coming to collect the contraband he had stashed in the hold.