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From the view through the tiny hatch window, the carrier looked withered, like a branch that has shed its fruit. The glider was one of the six large gliders, its stubby deltoid covered in heat proof tiles, inside one of the crew of the Ascendant resided, it was considered too much of a risk to put all the crew in one craft, lest it be lost, and therefore failure of the mission, spreading them across the a number of craft improved the chance of mission success, though increased the likelihood of losing an individual member of the crew.

The flat computer consoles in the tiny cabin at the heart of the craft showed the trajectory of the craft, it would be for the most part computer guided, the passenger merely a backup if the computer guidance failed, the six large gliders would land in quick succession over the target zone, and also hopefully not separate too far apart.

A quiet chime sounded in the cockpit, the glider fled from its carrier, the tiny thrust knocking it on its way towards the surface. The active radar sensed the traces of the other six gliders, and also the dozen or so re-entry capsules filled from ransacking the ship of everything that could possibly useful on the ground, leaving the Ascendant little more than a relay satellite and an orbital platform for other, later missions.

Gravity sucked at the bulging form of the craft, the first wisps of atmosphere playing over its hull in fine glowing curtains, inside sensors detailed conditions about the structure and status of the craft, heat management systems switched to high priority as the hull temperature began to increase. The last blackness of space now only seen on the hatch above the cockpit, all around was the consuming rage of plasma.

A sharp ping announced that communications had been lost with all other craft, the transmission lost in the ionic roar outside. The pilot lay in the form fitting couch, false gravity as his craft shed its orbital velocity in the atmosphere, in front of him the flat consoles steadily showed the trajectory and current flight process, the shaking trauma inflicted on the pilot lost on its clean, facetted form, seemingly detached from the hostile world that was all around. Cruel red orange light played over the features from the hatch above, reminding of the furnace conditions on the other side of that glass.

From the outside the craft could not be seen in the fireball that surrounded it, the nose of the deltoid glowed white hot, atoms of its surface being ablated off by the atmosphere, a single fault or flaw, would allow the immolating fire to ravage through the craft, rendering it an inert falling husk to be dashed against the rocks below.

The computer chimed again, though this was lost amongst the white noise of reentry, sharp jolts of thrusters prepared the craft for its final stage, its velocity had fallen sufficiently so that the frictional heat of the atmosphere began to abate, but still its surfaces glowed, communications with the other craft were re-established, guidance programs cut in to fine tune the flight path, even-out the little flaws in its trajectory caused in its blind descent. The computers showed sublime arcs and curves, cursors and telemetry everywhere. Through the hatch could be seen a blue sky, instead of black space, or ravaging glow of re-entry.

The craft banked through the air, bringing it online with its landing point, specialized heat tiles blasted themselves off the exterior showing a hidden cargo of rocket reactant chambers, the craft slowed, jets of fire projecting from it edges. Slowly ever so slowly it fell the last dozen meters on pillars of flame, the hot exhaust lashing at the short vegetation below, before being burnt and ashes thrown up cloaking the craft in its final metre.

There was a thud felt more than heard, the last final jolt, the reassurance of being on the ground for the first time in months, the comfort in not having a void all around. The noise abated, at last quiet, only the quiet hum of the computer system broke the perfect silence in the cockpit. The pilot pulled himself out of his couch, his imprint remained in the foam, and pulled himself up the short ladder towards the hatch, his hands faultingly stabbing at the electronic lock, and finally yanking at the complex mechanism that had held the hatch shut since separation from the Ascendant, the hatch threw open, a combination of spring mechanism, and the heated cabin air, threw the hatch open, an atmosphere, and another world, the pilot climbed up a little further, but the oppressive heat from the craft’s exterior forced him down again, he resigned back to his couch, but now over the radio he could here the jubilation of the rest of the crew, seemingly all had been accounted for, no one lost, praise be to god. Later when their craft cooled down they would explore paradise.