Reckall ended the call and shook his head imperceptibly.

“Re-entry it is, Captain.”

In eerie unison, the four drone suits locked their boots to the floor with magnetic clamps to prevent hundreds of kilos of armour rolling around the passenger bay. Outside, the thrusters rolled to their atmospheric entry configurations while an almost-imperceptible glow started to appear on the retracted hull cameras.

The hissing, clacking, start-stop roar of the remaining thrusters started, the pilot pulsing them on and off to conserve what fuel remained in the tanks. The armoured and insulated bay rocked – first gently, then with increasing severity.

One of the rebels made desperate eye contact. “How likely is this to work?”

“Sustained flight is impossible. Countergravity propulsion below minimum safe levels. Aerodynamic envelope compromised by flight surface damage.” I read off the damage displays. “Shall I continue?”

The man shook his head dumbly, the turbulence now louder than speech.