Orbit

James Miller settled into the cockpit, restraints secured and final checks complete. He drew a ragged breath as his radio crackled.

“Odyssey, this is Mission Control. We are go for launch. Do you copy?”

James tightened his grip on the handles, his heart racing with anticipation. “Copy that. Systems green. Ready for launch.”

“Odyssey, launch sequence initiated. Godspeed, James.” The launch controller took over and began the countdown.

“Ten…” A soft hum vibrated through the capsule. James felt the engines begin to stir, rumbling quietly beneath him.

“Nine…” The vibration grew steadily stronger, like a giant waking from slumber.

“Eight…” Lights flickered across the console. Panels hummed and valves hissed. The capsule felt alive.

“Seven…” The engines rumbled louder, shivering through the metal frame. James’s stomach flipped, his pulse racing.

“Six…” Ozone and fuel fumes crept into the cabin. Tension coiled tight in James’s chest. He drew in a shaky breath.

“Five…” Warmth enveloped the room, prickling at his skin as if testing his resolve.

“Four…” James thought of his family, his beautiful wife and his parents, probably watching with a mix of anticipation and worry.

“Three…” The world seemed to pause. His own heartbeat felt distant.

“Two…” The low rumbling became a roar, the engines thrumming through his bones.

“One…” A final tremor followed by silence. Then the engines fully ignited.

The capsule lurched as metal screamed and the ship shook violently. James heard a faint voice through his headset.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have liftoff.”

Then came the pressure. Pressure like he had never felt before. James was pressed hard into his seat as the overwhelming force pinned him in place. He gritted his teeth. It was agonizing—the noise, the rumbling, the crushing weight. He could not breathe. It felt endless. His headset crackled, but the words were lost in the chaos.

After what felt like hours, there was a sudden lurch. The pressure vanished, and the capsule fell silent.

James gasped as his body lifted slightly against the restraints.

Weightless.

He laughed breathlessly. Had he done it? Was he the first man in space?

James turned toward the small circular window. The sight stole the breath from his lungs.

Earth curved beneath him, blue and vast. Clouds swirled like brushstrokes, sunlight glinting off the oceans. It was surreal. Beautiful.

Without looking away, James reached for his headset. “Odyssey to Mission Control. Phase one of Odyssey orbit complete.”

Cheers erupted through the radio. Voices overlapped, distorted by static and joy. Engineers shouted his name. Someone laughed. He recognized the flight director’s voice because it cracked when he spoke.

“Congratulations, James. You’ve made history.”

James smiled and ran a hand through his hair, looking down at Earth once more. He imagined the control room, people shouting, hugging, and celebrating. Headlines were already being printed.

THE FIRST MAN IN SPACE

ODYSSEY SHIP SUCCESSFULLY IN EARTH’S ORBIT

A swell of pride rose in his chest, but a persistent anxiety gnawed at the feeling. The eerie silence began to weigh on him. He was utterly alone up here.

The hours blurred together. James drifted through the quiet rhythm of orbit, watching Earth move steadily out the window. He slept in short stretches, ate when the clock told him to, and spoke to Mission Control when asked for a report. Mostly, there was silence.

On the third day, the call finally came.

“Odyssey, you are clear to initiate phase two. Prepare for return.”

James felt a surge of relief wash over him, drowning the nagging anxieties. Home, he was going home.

“Odyssey to Mission Control. Copy that.”

James moved through the checklist with practiced ease, fingers flying over switches and panels. Then the first warning light flickered on and caught his attention. James frowned and reran the diagnostic. The light stayed. Soon a second followed, then a third. The ship shuddered. Something was wrong.

“Mission Control, I’m seeing anomalies in the propulsion system,” James said. “Requesting guidance.”

Static answered him.

“Mission Control, do you copy?”

Nothing.

A knot formed in James' stomach. He forced himself to breathe. Minutes stretched into hours. He rerouted power, reset systems, and shut down nonessential modules. Each step followed procedure, then the procedures ran out. The ship did not respond.

He tried again. And again. His voice rose in reluctant desperation. “Odyssey to Mission Control. Please come in!”

The radio hissed back, empty and uncaring.

James slammed his fist against the console. The sound echoed loudly in the cramped cabin. His chest tightened. Sweat clung to his skin despite the cold hum of the systems surrounding him.

Then, at last, the radio crackled.

“Odyssey, this is Mission Control. James, can you hear us?”

James couldn’t help but laugh in relief. “This is James. I read you. Systems failure. The ship is unresponsive.”

The line stayed open. He could hear voices in the back. Strained and hurried. Papers rustling. Someone cursed loudly.

“We’re analyzing. Going over options.” The flight director said. Another voice chimed in. “What other options do we ha-”

The radio went dead, connection lost. Silence filled the cabin again. It was deafening. James felt sick. He looked again at the warning lights, endlessly blinking as if putting him in a trance. Time became a mockery as countless minutes ticked by. James closed his eyes and tilted his head back. The crushing reality of his situation was sinking in. He was stranded.

“Odyssey—copy.” The flight coordinator's voice fought through static before coming in clear again. “James, do you copy?”

“I’m here.” He responded in an almost whisper.

“Stay with us, James. Can you go through the return procedures again?”

“There’s nothing left to try,” James said quietly.

A painful silence followed, worse than static. When the flight director spoke again, his voice broke.

“We were so close, James. We’ll run the simulations again.”

“This isn’t a simulation!” James snapped. “We both know rescue is impossible… Tell my wife… Tell her I love her.”

James straightened and drew in a slow measured breath. The fear receded, replaced by something familiar. Training. Procedure.

“This is James Miller, captain of Mission Odyssey. Return phase unsuccessful. Signing off. Goodbye.”

A strange calm washed over James. He turned toward the small window. Earth filled his vision. His home was somewhere down there. His wife, his parents. All seemingly within his grasp. He traced the edge of the window, a habit from childhood, as if trying to map the world he’d left behind. He was so close but forever out of reach.