The impact timer was spinning towards zero without mercy. She was trying to keep her breath as calm as possible in order to extend the life support of her suit. But was it worth it? Nobody was replying on the Comm channels anymore. Not that she could possibly hear any transmission from the bulk of molten silicone and metal that was left from the command console nor from the short-ranged transmitter in the suit alone.She had to do it - it was time.
She quickly popped the helmet and reached towards her neck holding her breath - breathing what was left in the flier's atmosphere was not such a good idea - still, the bitter smoke of burnt plastic got to her eyes. She tore the medallion that was given to her by Razr.
It was a small, mediocre bulk of semi-modern mix of platinum and quartz. She closed the helmet back and took a deep breath. The platinum shell opened in her trembling fingers revealing a 12mm projectile bullet - standard armament of the Liberty Navy - it was "just in case". She slid the bullet into the barrel of her side arm and clicked loaded.
Houston was a minute away - the first atoms of its atmosphere were starting their attack on the shield-less ship creating a heavenly stream of sparks towards the nose. Was burning over her home planet the death sentence of her sins? She rose the pistol up....
The array of sparks at the ship's nose became a steady steam of fire that was starting to burn through the hull. It was definitely smaller than the one she remembered during the Great HF war a year ago when the majestic LNS-Nevada was shot down and burned over Los Angeles. 380 people crew did not have a chance. No less were the unlucky pilots that have seen the godly glow of her SA-Angelico heavy fighter's four archangel guns. She rose the pistol higher...
Should she trust the Navy as she has always done? Or, should she end this epic right there? She knocked at her helmet's glass with the tip of the barrel.
She aimed at the left junction of the front glass and pulled the trigger. The thunder amplified by the small space was deafening. Nothing -- just a small scratch on the window which was supposed to be able to take 2 or 3 plasma shots. It was worth the try...
She stared beyond the scratched glass - fifteen more seconds until ground impact. Instanly, it felt dark and cold as if the bright Texas Sun has disappeared. Was the shadow of death was upon her? She wanted to see her last moments.
An incredibly massive wall was moving down in-front of her - she recognized some of the machinery and markings. That was a docking bay of a Dreadnought-class ship. Syler!? The gravity kicked in instantaneously sending her poor excuse of a ship down towards the floor. Crash! Darkness!