...rail, her fingers clamping down just as her momentum threatened to wrench her shoulder from its socket.

She swung like a pendulum in the dark, her boots kicking uselessly at the empty air

beam of her suit’s shoulder-mounted torch swept erratic arcs across the cavernous vault, cutting through a swirling nebula of frozen debris.

Her gloved hand snagged a cold guide

...dying vessel finally sputtered out, plunging her into the chaotic weightlessness of freefall.

She drifted, her limbs splaying instinctively as she sought purchase in the dark. The

Cold, stale air rushed out to meet her, smelling of copper and ancient frost. She tumbled through the threshold, her boots losing traction on the slick, metal grating as the centrifugal gravity of the

backward, using the dying momentum of the ship’s centrifugal spin to wrench the heavy metal slab. The manual seal yielded with a wet, hydraulic hiss that sounded far too much like a human gasp.