You know

from experience that trying to break through the plasma gate
will only result in frustration and a nasty headache. If this bucket is
going down, I am not going to die like a caged rat in this stinking cell,
you tell yourself. I’ve got to get to the emergency shuttle.
Just then, the cell blocks head guard pauses outside of your cell to
scrawl something in his ever-present log book.
“Hey Ash, what the hell’s going on!?”
“What do you thinks going on genius? We’re going down. Now shut
your yap and strap yourself in.”
“Are you insane? Turn off the gates! Let us get to the shuttle!”
Ash’s smirk and amused snort before he walks away fill you with
almost enough rage to burst right through the plasma gate and tear
his head off.
“Ash! Ash, open the damn gates! Don’t leave us in here! Wait a
minute! Open the friggin’ gates you son of a—”
A tremendous jolt rocks the ship and sends you hurtling across the
cell into the rear wall. You feel the sickening introduction of bone to
iron, and then, nothing at all.
—————
Later—perhaps hours, perhaps days—you wake up. Your body is battered
and dehydrated, but somehow, you have survived the crash.
The plasma gate is disabled. Beyond the entryway of your cell, freedom
beckons.
But where are you? Has anyone else survived? And what awaits you
beyond the confines of the crumpled Rikers? There’s only one way to
find out, you say to yourself.
Slowly, laboriously, but insistently, you emerge from your cell…