The end of the chain, with the sampler attached, rushes up toward me from the planet below. I grab the control lever and slow the winch. The sampler climbs slower and slower until it’s at a crawl. All but the last few links of the chain fall to their doom and the sampler is finally within reach. I stop the winch.

Rather than risk stupidly dropping the big orb, I grab the top remaining link of the chain and unhitch it from the winch. Now I have a ball and chain. I hang on to the chain for dear life and clip it to my belt. I still don’t let go. I’m not taking any chances with this.

“Status, question?”

“I have the sampler. Returning.”

“Amaze! Happy happy happy!”

“Don’t be happy until I’m inside!”

“Understand.”

I take two steps and the ship shudders. I fall to the hull and grab two handrails.

“What the heck was that?!”

“I not know. Ship move. Sudden.”

The ship shudders again, this time it’s a steady pull. “We’re thrusting the wrong direction!”

“Get inside fast fast fast!”

The horizon rises in my view. The Hail Mary isn’t maintaining her angle anymore. She’s tilting forward. That is absolutely not supposed to be happening.

I clamber from handhold to handhold. I don’t have time to attach the tether each step. I just have to hope I don’t fall.

Another sudden jerk and the hull slips sideways under my feet. I fall on my back but I keep my death grip on the sampler chain. What is going on?! No time to think. I have to get inside before the ship capsizes and kills me.

I cling to the handholds for dear life and crawl to the airlock. Thank God it’s still facing more or less up. I hold the sampler to my chest and fall inside. I land headfirst. Good for me the Orlan helmet is so sturdy.

I squirm to my feet as best I can in the clunky spacesuit. I reach up, grab the outer hatch, and slam it closed. I cycle the airlock and get out of the suit as fast as I can. I’ll leave the sampler in the airlock for now. I need to know what the heck is wrong with the ship.

I half climb, half fall into the control room. Rocky is in his bulb.

“Screens flash many colors!” he yells over the din. He points his camera here and there, watching the feed on his textured screen.

A metallic groan screams from somewhere down below. Something is bending and doesn’t want to. I think it’s the hull.

I get in the control seat. No time to strap in. “Where’s that noise coming from?”

“All around,” he says. “But loudest at starboard dormitory wall segment. It bending inward.”

“Something’s tearing the ship apart! Got to be the gravity.”

“Agree.”