astromegalophobia

Frank now drifts calmly.

Hours ago, exiting the Kirkwood Gap, he’d zigged. He should have zagged. Asteroids smashed into the podbay, depressurizing the cabin. He’d no choice but slip on an exosuit and slip out the back hatch. Tumbling into space.

It would’ve fetched a fair price in the Callisto market, but the Octokin of Europa wouldn’t get their shipment of tinned fish.

Jupiter loomed. A menacing ball. Massive yet ephemeral. Silent yet tumbling with storms.

He was caught in its gravity.

Frank wasn’t afraid to die but puncturing that deadly gas giant left him senseless.

However, he’s since calculated that he was traveling roughly at the speed and trajectory as his doomed ship. Twenty-nine moons spun and Callisto, his destination, was coming around.

He’d not vaporize inside Jupiter. He’d splat into conventional rock and ice. A new crater on that pocked moon.

He could get his mind around that.