The loud beeping of the alarm faded in as she slowly regained consciousness. The cracks on the c-glass pilot shield were allowing whatever atmosphere was on this planet to enter the cockpit. She faded back out. She awoke again and realized the gas was somehow seeping through her Protection suit. The ship faded back to black. Her eyes shot open this time. She had no idea how long she had been losing consciousness for, or if this gas would kill her, but she couldn't take any chances. That's when she saw it. Whatever had hit her fighter, causing her to crash-land, has also created a tear in her suit, allowing the gases to enter it. She reached, with the tiny amount of strength she could gather, for the tape, and as her head pounded with a combination of the massive concussion she had likely received, and the possible deadly atmosphere she was breathing more and more of, she finished up the tape job. Finally as her vision started fading again, she placed the last piece of carbon enforced auto-shrink pilot’s tape onto the end of the arm tear, and turned on her suit’s vacuum respiratory regulator.

The woman awoke and took a deep breath. The alarm still sounded, but she silenced it in her head, for it was no longer the biggest danger. She pulled down the release switches on the rear of the cockpit, and the rubberized gaskets hissed as the pressure equalized between her ship and the foreign atmosphere. The woman climbed out of what was left of her ship, and instantly felt the heaviness of her arms and legs. This was nothing she had not already experienced, and she noted in her head that the gravitational field of this planet was about 1.5 times that of earth, making it a whopping two times that of the planet where she was born. But thoughts of home had to be pushed aside. She needed to remain focused on her task. She travelled around the ship, looking it over until she found the outer switch to perform a hard reset on the computer systems. That got them up and running. Then, before she headed back inside the cockpit, she used the tape on the cracks in the windshield as well. She was told in pilot’s school over and over again that this tape was “stronger than whatever you could think to put it on.” Now would be as good a time as any to find out how true that was.

As the woman climbed back inside the cockpit, she was again startled at how difficult movement was. Sure enough, the ship's computer systems were mostly functional. Its radar had been damaged in the crash. She ran a system’s analysis, and the computers rendered an image of the small ship on the screen. The ship was just big enough to fit one pilot, with little to no cargo. It’s two dark grey wings attached to each side of its body, and its long frontal stabilization shaft extended far out in front of the pilot’s seat. The computer reported back that the engines had a massive fuel leak, and had dropped all of their fuel. The fuselage had been irreparably damaged, and was not likely to survive the leaving of the atmosphere, and, as she had already figured out at this point, all communication systems were fully down. Sending a call for help was impossible. If she couldn’t call for help, she’d have to help herself. She investigated the planet. The ship reported that this atmosphere was composed mainly of carbon monoxide (44%), carbon dioxide (36%), nitrogen (12%), oxygen (8%), and it contained a protective ozone layer. Well at least the nearest star wouldn't fry her alive with radiation, thought the woman. The ship detected one more thing. A massive Plutonium 239 deposit lay about 5 miles south of her ship.

There it was: her hope. If she could reach this deposit, she could bring the plutonium back to her ship, patch the fuel container, and get the ship running again. She climbed back out of the ship, and scanned the horizon. In the distance, orangey-red crust met dark-red sky, and massive rock structures shot up here and there. About a mile to the east, huge cliffs stood behind her ship. But she needed to go south, and south was mainly flat, with what looked like one giant rock structure that could be easily avoided on her journey. She took a sip from the water pack inside of her suit, and began the walk. She checked the air temperature on the display projected on her suit’s helmet. It read 5 degrees hotter than last time. 117º fahrenheit. It was still ok, she told herself. Her suit could protect her from these temperatures, but any hotter could be dangerous. This was just a pilot’s Protection suit, and was not built for exploration. Small rocks crunched as the woman crushed them into the dusty ground with each step. She kept walking in the direction of hope.

Her breathing was labored, but consistent. The temperature and air composition of her inner suit still held at comfortable levels, and her ship slowly shrank in the distance as she headed towards the plutonium. If she ever reached it, she planned to siphon off 15 Moles of it using her element beam, and store it in the suit. The woman would then have to hold an extremely quick pace back to the ship so the radiation didn't fry her. She tried not think too hard about how fast that would have to be, as her joints creaked with every step under the heavy gravity, and her head pressed down on her neck, threatening to fall right off. Her feet ached, but she continued on. The air temperature had gone from 117º to 131º. She was alerted of this, and began to worry. She now understood the possibility she had ignored before, that a heat storm was coming. It is no wonder that civilization dare not touch this planet, thought the woman. Planets like this had occasional holes in their protective shield from the close stars. When the atmospheric shield failed, radiation poured in. It superheated the air and ground, until the hole eventually closed.

Sure enough she saw the dust flying up in the distance as the atmosphere boiled. The air temperature was now 145º, and she reversed course and began to sprint back to the ship. Her feet now felt as if they were shattering with each heavy step, and her legs burned. 160º fahrenheit. She was closer to the ship, but she had used up most of the oxygen in her suit in during her sprint, and already felt light headed. The inside of her suit had now reached 110º. With every bit of fight she had left in her she continued to sprint for the ship. The giant storm of boiling planet reached nearer and nearer, where she knew temperatures could reach upwards of 700º. This would fry her before she even had time to be sad about it. She needed to make it to the ship. The ship now lay only two hundred meters away, but her legs refused to maintain their speed. She was carrying twice her usual weight, still desperately trying to sprint. As the outside air temperature reached 200º she finally made it to the ship, and tried to climb onto it. She could barely breathe, and the heart of the storm now appeared to only be minutes away. Her skin had never felt this hot. She could feel the heat piercing her skin and penetrating down to her core. The inside of her suit was 135º. She struggled into the cockpit, and closed the glass down. She pressed the seal button and sighed with relief. It didn't seal. This too had failed in the crash.

She hastily began jamming the pressure levers closed manually. 210º fahrenheit air temperature. The inside of the suit had reached 140º. She was barely conscious now, but had completed 3 of the 5 levers needed for the auto temperature stabilization to engage. The woman wrapped her fingers around the fourth one, and pulled down with all her might. She was losing her vision. She could only think of how good a nice glass of ice water and some relaxing jazz would feel right now. Maybe a cold popsicle. FOCUS. DON’T LET GO OF REALITY.

The heat storm was ready to tear her up. She finally closed the 4th lever, and with the last of her strength she reached for the fifth. Her vision faded out again. She could feel herself pulling the lever, but it wasn't moving. She was now hyper aware of her skin. Pools of sweat were running down her face, or were they tears. She was shaking out of pure fear. The lever had not moved. The screaming sound of the boiling atmosphere was now so close that she could feel the vibrations of it. 230º fahrenheit. 270º. 340º. The metal in the lever had expanded so much that it had locked itself in place.

The pilot’s suit auto engaged the emergency rapid crystallization coolers. It was enough to wake her up. She reached for the temperature stabilization of her ship, knowing that turning it on without closing the last seal might still mean death for her, but it was the only chance. With a flip of the small switch the temperature started falling back down to normal. The outside temperature was now 550º, and the inner ship had fallen back down to a chilly 150º, but heat was seeping in the unsealed rubber.

According to the Ideal Gas Law, pressure increases as temperature does. Now that the outside had reached 700º fahrenheit, she could no longer see out of the ship. Boiling gases clouded it; it was just a menacing shade of violently moving red. The tape seal seemed to be holding for now, but she realized something else. The glass wasn't. Even with the extremely strong carbon nano-polymer shrink tape she had put on it, the cracks were slowly growing with the pressure. She heard the creaking noise it made as the pressure continued to increase. Maybe the gasket wouldn't kill her after all. She quickly started trying to tape off any other cracks forming, but it was no use. The cracks spread throughout the entire shield as the pressure increased. The furiously rumbling air beat down on the windshield as if the two hated each other. The pounding and vibrating and violent temperatures of the poisonous gases were too much. The gasket had melted itself closed sealing the ship, and the frantic woman, gasping for air and still sweating or maybe crying violently could not close the cracks. The ship began to rumble. The glass separated, and the violent heat filled the ship instantly. A temperature of 2000º fahrenheit raged in the storm’s core. The alarm continued to sound long past the woman’s ability to hear it.

The ship's computer melted out, and vital systems were destroyed. Only its steel core remained intact. No trace was left of the woman after the four hour long heat storm finally subsided. Even the alarm that had continued to blare was finally quiet. The woman hadn’t realized it, but the alarm she’d thought was warming her about gases entering the cockpit had also been warning that the ship’s radar had detected the hole forming in the protective atmosphere. The small display meant to show the warning had been shattered in the crash. There hadn’t actually ever been hope. It didn't matter now though. The display had melted, and so had everything else.