John's Perspective
I hated being bored.
That was the worst part of my particular profession. It was a constant hurry up and wait. These seven days were awful; cabin fever had set in 48 hours when we left Earth, and we've been in a series of tin cans between then and now, so I didn't get my cabin fever out of my system.
It was an occupational disease. Every one of my team members had it bad.
"Hey, John, catch!" one of them shouted. I looked just in time to see a small zip-lock baggy filled with bullets and air flying towards me. A few people flinched as we started tossing it around, but that was a false fear. There was almost no chance of the bullets going off, and if they did, the brass wasn't contained, so the bullets wouldn't go anywhere. Not really.
"Relax, everyone," I said as I caught the makeshift ball and lobbed it back across the room. "It's just a bit of harmless fun."
Throwing the "ball" around seemed to keep us sane. Even a few of the eggheads joined in. Without warning, the rocket lurched and tilted, making me nauseated, as the ball flew away in a random direction.
"Whoa!" I cried out, grabbing onto the armrest.
One of the eggheads mumbled something as he scrambled to his seat and tore at his tablet with more calm and poise than I'd ever seen him have. Over the radio, people talked about damage from debris, fuel, and splashing into the ocean. I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, thinking, "Why oh why couldn't this be boring until we landed?"
Miles Perspective
On the way to the moon, the windows either pointed out to nowhere or towards the moon. The best view of Earth was through the external cameras. It was nice but kinda felt like a computer screen or video recording.
On the way back, the observation windows above the seating deck and below the command deck were aimed towards Earth as it grew larger and closer.
It was my favorite place to be when I wasn't frantically taking photos of Zenthara's tablet.
On the last day of our flight, I floated in front of the window, my eyes glued to the mesmerizing view. The Earth hung there, a shining blue, green, white, and tan orb that seemed both impossibly large and impossibly small at the same time. I could see no borders or buildings, just a vast collection of continents, oceans, mountains, and clouds shifting around our home planet.
"Amazing," I mumbled to myself. "Every world leader should be forced to take a trip up here just to see how insignificant our squabbles are in the grand scheme of things. Maybe bring some...enlightenment substances."
My heart rate was surprisingly calm, especially compared to the last few days. Somehow, floating there without the pressure of gravity or responsibilities was perfectly peaceful.
That peace was shattered in an instant when a cloud of debris streaked past the window. My body jerked involuntarily, sending me floating away from the glass and crashing into the bulkhead. The ship shuddered violently, then began to spin slowly in space.
"Damn it," I muttered, bracing myself against the wall. I glanced down at my wrist controller, calling up the diagnostics. The numbers didn't look good – we were losing fuel at an alarming rate.
"Commander, I observed debris fly by and strike us. I don't have access to external cameras, but our fuel reserves have dropped significantly." My voice held steady, to my own surprise, as I called up to the command deck.
"Understood," came the strained response. "We have a hole in the tanks, and we lost the box fins. The self-sealing has been activated; we are waiting for confirmation."
