The loss of oxygen was actually not that alarming, considering the circumstances. Multiple alarms warbled in imperfect harmony and far too many lights flashed persistently on the status boards. Irritated at her ship’s newfound desire to self-destruct, Juliet jerked her control cord to a new setting and hissed quietly in frustration. It was going to be close. Groaning in arrhythmic stutters, the chamber around Juliet’s pilot pod began to heat up. This was not entirely unexpected, but a bit too soon for comfort. Juliet glanced at the altitude indicator again and bit her lip. She needlessly tightened the strap on her rebreather and flipped the final switch. In one last protest, the structure surrounding her began to crumble into nothingness. Outside lay blackness and flame. Juliet leaned her head back and sighed. An explosion of soundless beauty. And then, the lights came on.

Closing her eyes, Juliet asked in barely concealed anger, “So how’d I do?”

“You died,” came the disembodied voice in her earbuds. “Again.”

“Really?” scoffed Juliet. “Well then, let’s run it one last time.” Her eyes flashed purple fire. “Again.”