More of Shayla's plunge from space. In the confines of her re-entry bubble, she is trying to brake her speed before the tiny jet of plasma leaking through the damaged bubble cooks her...
When she could stand the pain no longer, she relinquished her grip and curled into a tight ball, allowing gravity and friction to do their work.
The stench of charred flesh recalled childhood nightmares, and the flight from her doomed home on Eloon twenty three years ago.
As you sow, thus shall you reap. An ancient text came to mind. She blinked away tears and set her mouth in a grim smile.
Weak and nauseated, Shayla felt the roasting temperature subside. Watching the speed, altitude, and temperature displays, she breathed more easily, still relying on oxygen from her mouth unit but thankful for a gradual return to a livable pressure.
Her visor display clocked down the altitude.