The bridge surrounds us with four translucent screens, two in front of me and the other pair in front of Eve. Our crash-chairs vibrate like buzz saws burring through pine trees. Yes, the memory drop is in full effect, minus the knowledge of my disciplines in science. I can't grasp the concepts of geology or chemistry, but I'm aware the habitat burns through the atmosphere at blistering speed, a ginormous projectile that could blast an enormous crater into the ground and obliterate any future we have on Earth.

The four screens are the only illumination inside the bridge, except for a few blinking lights on the wall in front of us and the console between us. I have the sudden realization that... things can always go wrong, nothing is one hundred percent, and nothing is full proof.

"Is this normal?" Eve's voice rises above the chaotic din, and the darkness wrapped around us, garnering my attention and the depths of wisdom from my supposed scientific mind.

"I don't know! I've never done this before." Inside my helmet, my head rolls on my shoulders, my eyes scanning the views on the screens for any readouts that might reveal if we're in trouble or not.

Our screens are identical. The left one is off center with digital gauges and numbers decreasing at rapid speeds. One readout gyrates... a circle within a circle, and another, the numbers decrease slowly, while another spins an ominous countdown to what, I don't know.

The right screen is dead-center in front of me. It displays a bright orange and white blur with faint whispers of blue. The colors streak toward me like an oblivion rushing all around me.

"I think we're off balance," I say.

"What gave you that idea?" Eve stabs her eyes at me from across the middle console.

That's new. An attitude. It's real world time now, and we're finally getting to know each other.

Nothing like a predicament to bring out the best in us. Another wave of wisdom. I wonder if Abraham downloaded an archive of wit and cynicism? Or is this our underlying personalities coming to light, forced out of us in an intense situation?

Eve's right. I don't have to check our airspeed, swift decline in altitude, and the increasing vibrations mixed with the bridge's see-sawing motion to know our descent isn't going according to plan.

"Something is wrong," Eve says.

"I'm aware."

"Remember, Abraham said the computer is voice activated."

"Okay... what do we say?"

"I don't know." Eve's eyes dart between me and the screens in front of her. "But we have to try something."

"Alright." I twist my neck toward her to make sure she can see the intensity on my face. "Computer! What's wrong with our descent?"

"You may refer to me as Jinx," a male voice says with a hint of electronic inflection. "I'm the most advanced artificial intelligence know to man. Computer will not suffice."

"What's wrong with our descent, Jinx?" Eve asks.

"Of course," the voice says. "That's simple. We met severe turbulence when we entered the atmosphere. I made a course correction to keep the habitat from burning up. The vibrations will dial back in, three... two... one..."

On cue, the shakes and rattles in the bridge grow milder. Not at once, but gradually, although the vibrations never go away completely.

"How far off course are we?" Eve asks, staring at me.

"Approximately 2,268.3 miles," Jinx says. "Due northwest."

"I have a feeling Abraham will not be happy."

"If I had not made the adjustments, the impact would have destroyed the habitat." Jinx pauses. "There is another issue."

"What's that?" I ask.

"Although I could make major course corrections, the extreme turbulence has damaged the hab's positional thrusters. I can set us down, but I'm unable to control exactly where. I will attempt to avoid mountain ranges and other dangerous terrain."

"Aim for a flat surface, preferably somewhere wide-open."

"I'm all for that," Eve says.

Danger mashes our personalities right out of us.

As opposed to the reddish-orange and white streaks we saw a minute ago, now our screens reveal a light blue sky buffered by a rim of green at the bottom.

"Switching exterior cameras," Jinx says.

The view changes to green, traces of brown, and a snaking glimmer of dark blue mingled with foamy white.

"Our rate of descent is not favorable. Prepare for impact," Jinx says. The electronic inflection rises in pitch with the pronunciation of the last word.

"Impact?" I say. After I shut my mouth, the habitat wobbles and bounces on all four corners of the massive structure, like Abraham dropped it from a cloud, and it caught wind on the way down. "What happened to a touchdown? We're supposed to descend, not plummet."

"Apologies, sir, but regarding the damaged positional thrusters, to be more specific, the extreme turbulence during entry into Earth's atmosphere affected the power output. Those thrusters control position and rate of descent, and they're only operating at fifty percent, which means I can't use them simultaneously. I'm alternating power between the nozzle cones on all sides. Because of this, I estimate we have a thirty-seven percent chance of surviving."

"Are you kidding me?" Eve glares at me. "Jinx!"

"Yes, madame, how may I help you?"

"Don't get us killed!"

"Sensors detect a slight decline in speed because of friction and minimal thruster use. Chance of survival increased to forty-nine percent."

Eve glares at me and juts her chin forward. "We're going to die."

I don't disagree.

Our screens show altitude at five hundred and seventeen feet and dwindling. Airspeed is no longer visible. I suspect Jinx removed it to avoid a panic, or the reading became irrelevant. It doesn't make a difference at this point.

The main screen displays a hazy swath of green, brown, and blue. Treetops are the green. Brown equals the ground, and the snaking rush of dark blue and white—a river. We're careening straight for it.

"Noah!" The high-pitched terror in Eve's scream rakes at my ears as her helmet's faceplate reflects the river's twisting whitewater. "We're going to crash."

"I know."

"Technically," Jinx says, "we will experience a violent touchdown. My calculated burns of the positional thrusters are paying off. Despite the habitat's current debacle, I should have the bouncing under control before impact. Chances of survival have increased to seventy-three percent."

"Only a twenty-seventy percent chance to die," I reply.

"That's one way to look at it." Fright washes over Eve's face, her eyes bulging and her mouth agape.

"Less than one hundred feet to impact," Jinx says, calm as ever.

Trees, bare earth, and roaring river fill our screens in a tumultuous blend of obscurity.

"Airspeed is now within estimated control parameters for probable survival," Jinx says. "Twenty feet to impact. Survival chances increased to ninety-three percent."

Now, the river balloons to fill the entirety of our screens.

"Touchdown imminent. Survival chances—"

The impact booms through the habitat, reverberating from the ground up, rumbling up the walls, and whip lashing over the roof. A thunderous crash of crumpling steel, threatening the hull's integrity.

In the aftermath, dust and debris drifts through the air.

Stars shoot across my vision and deafness rings in my ears.

As I gather myself, dizziness swirls around my head, in between my ears, and all throughout my body.

The screens fritz out with jagged lines, go black momentarily, and then come back online.

When the dust settles, I glance over at Eve, but address Jinx. "So, you had to scrap the landing on Merritt Island in what used to be Florida. Where are we now, exactly?"

"The restricted zone in the frontier formerly known as the United States of America. Specifically, Montana, in what Abraham simply calls, Yellowstone. Post worldwide flood, the area boasts an extensive evergreen forest surrounding a caldera lake three miles in diameter."

"Why is it restricted?" Eve asks.

"Abraham deemed the primary reason as classified."

"Other than that, why is it considered off limits?" I say.

"The global ocean flooded the subterranean chambers of the world's largest super volcano. It's believed the upper chamber of the volcano became sealed off, with the lake resting on top of it. Abraham deems it highly aggravated and possibly ready to blow at any moment."