Return to Earth: A Dark Comedy
Two astronauts are returning to Earth after taking a delivery to Mars
Micro‑Hook (1–2 sentences)
A tiny atmospheric teaser.
STORY
Commander Nick Schmitz radioed moon base V, “Zenith IV to moon base V, do you copy?”
“Moon base V, copy Zenith IV, go ahead.”
“Be advised, your platinum delivery plus subscription expires end-of-week. Recommend renewal to maintain two-day supply chain integrity.”
No response from the moon base.
“Spicer, they get the message?”
“Roger that commander, comms show message received.”
Pilot Rob Spicer toggled a switch that brought up a chat-like interface, complete with speech bubbles with a status indicator.
“Copy that. They’ll come around. ETA on re-entry?”
The curvature of the Earth had a white halo, as if someone took LED mood lighting and placed it on the backside of the decorative blue sphere.
Rob checked the data from his HUD in the upper right corner. “Almost time to turn on that ‘Fasten your seatbelt’ sign.”
Commander Schmitz nodded and secured himself to the contoured chair—a cocoon-like design with an oval opening, almost enclosing most of his body.Video screens were placed eye-level, displaying the key areas of the capsule if the need to eject should arise.
The capsule made its way closer to the Earth; patches of land mass were now beginning to sprout details such as topographic mountain ranges and terrain. Spicer kept his hands steady at the controls and called out some coordinates to the on-board assistant. He took a deep breath, “View never gets old, huh Commander?”
“Never has, never will.” Commander Schmitz moved his head side to side, getting his neck to pop in key areas. He placed his finger on the comms button and menu options appeared on the small screen to the left of him. He selected the first option. Mission Control.
“Mission Control, you copy?” He asked.
“Roger that Zenith IV.”
“I’ve spotted an anomaly on a continental land mass.”
“Come again, Zenith IV?”
“I’ve spotted a large object over what should be Nebraska, over.”
Engineers and control operators shifted to high alert and began to pull up data streams and live video footage. Scanning for signs that would corroborate what Commander Schmitz was relaying.
“Control to Zenith IV, Control to Zenith IV, do you copy?”
“Roger that.”
“Can you provide additional information?”
“That’s an affirmative, control. It’s big, over,” he said. “Upon further inspection, it appears the anomaly was your momma. Over.”
Pilot Spicer blew spittle in his helmet in a failed attempt to contain his laughter. His fist peeked out from his cocoon shell and met with the Commander’s. “Got em Commander, good one, Sir.”
On the ground hundreds of staff shook their heads in disbelief while operator Maritz put down his coffee cup, leaned forward with both hands on the console screen barrier. The red light in the control room went from a flashing red to yellow and settled on green. “Get me eyes on the crew.” He said to a subordinate.
The large screen switched from an overhead view of the upper American states to the faces of Commander Schmitz and pilot Spicer. He adjusted the foam microphone on his lapel.
“Control to Zenith IV, please be advised I may have left my toothbrush at your domicile and your wife says ‘hello.’” He released the button and turned towards the control operations staff, “Alright, let’s get these two home.”
The capsule continued its descent. The system checks came back negative and everything was “go” for LEO entry. The two astronauts reviewed a checklist and spent an extra moment on the section about radiation.
The commander noticed a break in the conversational rhythm. “Everything okay Spicer?”
The pilot responded two seconds later, “It’s nothing Commander, except we’ve done this 147 times and never had any dealings with radiation. They should really update the procedures.”
“Affirmative, and duly noted.” The commander said.
After a few additional checks, the crew were about to enter LEO.
“Zenith IV, You’re go for LEO. I repeat, You’re a go for LEO.”
“Roger that, Control. Making our descent.” The commander said.
Spicer pressed a button and buffer panels moved to cover the view ports. The process took 20 seconds. The synchrony of the panels ensured that the capsule remained stable, but something happened that moment.
The capsule creaked and a large pop was heard. The two crew were jostled in their seated cocoons.
“What the…?” Commander Schmitz toggled through the camera displays mounted outside to monitor the capsule. He flipped through several areas, and then made two clicks back. “Uh-oh.”
“Commander, you see something?”
“Affirmative. We just had a panel fly off and burn in the atmosphere.”
“Protocol R34G?”
“Roger that. Switch to full pod mode.”
The two used their thumb to flip open a safety lock and expose a red button. With a firm press, their shelled seats were now a sealed cocoon, ready for blast protection and rapid ejection.
“Spicer, tell me something good.”
“Integrity checks—green for go.”
“Green? Far from it. Running additional integrity checks.” The commander moved a rollerball control pad under his left palm, navigating through the various messages of the capsule’s status.
“Anything sir?”
“Hold her steady. We lost panel RT852, Things are about to get toasty.” The commander pressed the comms button, “Zenith IV to Control, Zenith IV to Control, we have a situation, over.”
The capsule screeched like a can inside a hydraulic press. The pair were being spun as reports of a rudder lit up their screen, and soon more alerts appeared until it looked like a Christmas tree in their pods.
Pilot Spicer punched some codes on a console near his right knee. “Commander, Popcorn primed and on standby.”
More parts began to strain and the temperature inside the capsule was rising fast.
***
There was a professional panic at ground control where every member did their best to monitor, analyze, report, and continue as they were trained but the training didn’t cover the adrenaline rush that comes from suppressing panic—especially when the mission command gets a phone call from Washington D.C.
“Yes, I understand Sir. We are doing everything in our power… Yes—Yes sir.” His voice wavered and his hands shook. The lights in the control center matched the interior of the capsule—a twinkling of reds, orange, yellow, and even flashes of silver tinsel like material painted all surfaces that was available.
Murmurs grew louder as tensions rose. People went from whispering into their microphones to audible sounds of helplessness “I don’t know,” cropped up across random seats within rows of staff as they watched things unfold just as the rest of the world does.
“Cut the public feed. NOW!” The shouting silenced the murmurs and several seconds of silence spread through the control room. Public signals and streams went dark and every phone began to ring.
***
“Pop corn, sir?” Spicer asked.
“Hold, we’re going in too hot. Engage chute, now!”
It was true, with the loss of the rudders, damage spread to the dampeners. From the ground, the capsule looked bright red and observers expected it to disintegrate before their eyes.
Spicer deployed the thermal chute. It wasn’t meant for this altitude or speed and it was going to burn up in an instant. He knew this. The string of beads around his right wrist began to squeeze tight. The letters embedding themselves into his skin.
“Daddy, daddy, wait. I made you something.” His daughter ran under the barricade and straight to her father’s arms and he held out his arm as she placed a makeshift bracelet around his wrist.
He let his eyes remain closed longer with each blink. His inner eyelids turned into a projector for memories of holidays, birthdays, milestones, and the gleam in her eyes whenever he’d return. She’d always wrench her hand free from her mother’s and zig zag past the security just to be the first one to greet him.
He wondered about today. Would he let her down? He never considered this outcome until now. His high school sweetheart and seven-year-old daughter waiting at a gate for a return that would never happen. He let the tear build up and run down his face. He couldn’t hide the sniffling.
“Spicer. Engage Pop Corn”
Sniffles.
“Spicer, c’mon buddy. Engage Pop Corn NOW!” the commander’s voice rattled through speakers that weren’t designed to handle that high of volume.
Spicer widened his eyes, resolute to keep them open. “Sir, Engaging Pop Corn.” His index finger reached across the digital keyboard and pressed the Engage button.
The capsule shed its outer shell and shot two cocoons out of its cockpit. The coordinates timed to eject them when the capsule spun away from the ground.
Now airborne, two silver capsules rotated and spun as the flaming capsule broke into pieces below them.
Their ascent slowed.
Now gravity took over and those silver bullets began to shoot towards the ground as if they were fired by a sky pistol.
***
Ground control went silent. Only the whir of their overheated computer fans persisted. All eyes were on the screen, now being transmitted from digital ground telescopes and two aerial fighter jets that were deployed minutes ago.
Then the trail of smoke by the capsule dissipated and two shiny objects pierced the remaining smoke and were hurtling towards earth.
Operators began tapping away at their keyboards. A desperate attempt to patch into the live feed of the cacoons.
Nothing.
The encasements were too far from the ground towers and falling too fast for satellite lock on. Their trajectory was far from their intended target of the California coast line. Their continued path would have them land near Lake Piru, which was in the mountainous terrain of Southern California near Santa Clara. With its small footprint, if they missed that body of water, the structural integrity of the pods would not be able to sustain damage at such velocity.
The commander, through all of his extensive training and logged mission hours, was experiencing the type of gravity that can’t be simulated. His skin was pulled opposite the ground, which made his face a skeletal halloween mask. His organs were crashing into each other, jockeying for position inside his sternum. He began to experience the early stage of blacking out.
***
“Nick did you remember to set the autopay for the rest of the bills? I don’t see them on the scheduler in the app.”
“It’s a new bank. Give it a bit, I’m sure it will be fine.” Nick Schmitz leaned in kissed Alanis on the cheek. “Besides, I’m only gone for a week. Two deliveries to two moon bases and I’m back.”
Alanis crossed her arms and tapped one foot, while she stood barefoot on the cold kitchen tiles. “I don’t like this and I honestly don’t see what you get out of it these days. You and Rob go up there every week and it’s not like there’s anything new happening.”
“I’m not doing this again with you. You married me because I was an astronaut and now you’re pulling the rug from under me?”
“No, I married you for you. I wanted to spend my life with the man that went into space and came back to me to start a family and do the things that families do. Instead, I’m doing weekly laundry loads for my space husband who can’t seem to stand the planet he was born on.”
Nick walked to the door, dufflebag in hand, ready for the next mission and delivery. “You don’t get it. What’s happening on the moon—it’s bigger than us. It’s for all of humanity. Look, I gotta go, my ride is here—just know that I love you.” The door shut with a click behind him.
***
Commander Schmitz recovered from a momentary blackout. The images on the screen were disorienting. His body was being yanked by gravity in so many directions that the end couldn’t come sooner for him. He wanted to scream but his lungs weren’t in a position to inhale oxygen from his mask.
As his pod careened towards the ground, traffic on I-5 came to a halt. Emergency vehicles attempting to get to the potential crash site were left behind motorists who could do nothing but gaze into the sky.
The two pods were nearly parallel when their respective chutes launched. News helicopters kept their distance, using high strength zoom lenses to document the recovery, while the fighter jets remained in the sky, making several fly-bys to keep eyes on them, in case the Santa Ana winds picked up and altered their trajectory.
The pods cartwheeled and sometimes spun like a top, but when they hit the surface of lake Piru, the violent sound of metal meeting water was enough to make the two consider the merits of crashing into a mountain as a way to meet their fate.
The commander’s capsule sank to the bottom of the lake and when the parachute detached itself, the capsule slowly rose towards the surface and began to float horizontally, doing the same as Rob Spicer’s pod had done nearly two seconds earlier.
Now that they were stationary on the ground, comms was reestablished. The squawk of the radio echoed in the floating pods.
The two did not respond.
Teams of rescue personnel were deployed across the lake and each pod was retrieved carefully loaded onto the decks. When the boats docked, teams of rescue personnel encircled the pods, no one keen on how to extract the astronauts inside.
Spicer had a severe headache and could not wait to take his helmet off and feel the earth’s breeze blow across his face. He placed one hand across his wrist, checking to see if all of the beads on the bracelet were there.
He pressed his comms button, “Commander, we made it.”
Silence.
The commander remained inside his cocoon, lights flashing, screens fluttering. He thought of his wife’s words, the laundry, the gravity of a home he had spent years trying to escape. A quiet contemplation. A moment of truth. Clarity—before emerging from the pod to throngs of people wanting answers.
“Spicer?” His thumb on comms. “Does your pod smell strange?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand, our suits are sealed.”
“I should have known.”
“Come again?”
The commander radioed mission control. “Mission Control, this is commander Zenith IV, over.”
“Zenith IV, Mission Control, roger that. Glad to have you back on Earth sir.”
“Mission control, get your toothbrush out of my bathroom and tell my wife I’m coming home for good. Commander out.”
🎧 Companion Audio: Themes & Hidden Threads
This story is fully human‑written. The audio below is an optional AI‑generated commentary created after the story — a kind of literary companion that highlights themes, symbolism, and patterns readers might enjoy exploring.
Author’s Note
This story is part of a Write-Along where I go through the process of writing this for a Reedsy contest.
The Story Behind the Story
This story was a viability test to see if I could do this via livestream in the future. It turned out well and aside from the diversion of researching a few things, it would be a fun thing to do on stream.
In the Write-Along, I go over the process of the who, where, what and filling in the rest. There is good craft about a single instance, two backstories, and a conflict with a reasonable resolution.
The ingredients was the return of Artemis II with a few adjustments for a story in the future. The rest of the justification and process is in the Write-Along.
Don’t forget to listen to the podcast audio from NoteBookLM in the space above, the two podcasters have really good insight into thematic elements that I purposefully included and others that I had no idea about.
Thanks for hanging out with me on the Peripheral Edge.
-Daniel