Curtis turned to Maggie, a sick expression on his face. "That debris field<i>was </i>the refueling station," he remarked in a low voice as he released his safety belts, getting up slowly, still a bit dazed from his hit to the head. "There are two habitable places in this solar system. And one of them is<i>shrapnel </i>now." He began to move over to Moore who lay back in his chair, struggling to suck air into his lungs.<br/><br/>"I'm sorry Mags," Andrijan called from the pilot's seat. "There's a chance that this windshield might not survive re-entry, and it probably won't survive takeoff, but I<i>know</i>it won't survive a jump." He didn't seem to like the prospect any more than she did, but his logic was sound. It was a matter of time before the screen shattered, and their options were nothing, nothing<i>really fast</i>, or the possibility of a survivable atmosphere.<br/><br/>Curtis leaned over Moore, looking into his eyes which held a growing panic. "You okay?" he asked. Moore shook his head vehemently --<i>no</i>. "Shit, I think it is a cracked rib," he mumbled, the telltale wheezing just beginning as Moore began to change color. "You stay put boy. I'll get the first aid kit."<br/><br/>The older man disappeared out the door to the rear of the cockpit. "Hurry it up, Curtis!" Andrijan cried out. "We need to get into an orbit around the planet and dump the cargo. We can't haul this into the atmosphere. It'll drag us to the ground." He shook his head. "If we are lucky we can pick it back up when we're rescued, but I need a course<b>now!</b>"<br/><br/>Curtis returned with a wrapped syringe, handing it off to Maggie. "Dope him with this," he said. "We need all hands to get this bird down. After it's spent, pull the plunger and jam it in his chest between the third and fourth rib." He scrambled back to his desk, frantically plotting a course for Andrijan to follow to get them into a geosynchronous orbit.