Four minutes away from the burn point, one of the telltales switched from green to red. Tears streamed from my eyes, flowing back fast into my ears. The compression collar held my head in an unshakable grip. I flicked from gauge to gauge, moving only my eyes.
We were pulling seven Gs on the spinning turn, squeezing as much boost velocity as possible from the flyby. Apparently, the strain had been too much for the secondary backup fuel pump. The main primary pump and its backup were still reading green, and the main secondary was still green as well. The odds of another pump failing were -
Telltale for the primary backup fuel pump switched to red.
Two minutes, ten seconds. An early burn would throw me off my a half million miles.
More red light...
I don't always write fast, but I always try to write well. If you read something of mine and think, "Well, that was crap.", please read it again. Sometimes my jokes and layered meanings don't always come across instantly. If I make you work for the punchline, I hope you realize that I wouldn't even set up the hurdle for you if I didn't think you were able to clear it.
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