the orbiterPlease hold my hand. I think we might die.There’s turbulence and strange readouts and alarms and I know something’s wrong.Put your gloves on first, and hold my hand.I’m feeling that heat. Breathe easy, keep your eyes on the ceiling. Are you wearing your helmet? We might lose cabin pressure; don’t take it off. Don’t panic.Lights out. Comm’s down, they won’t hear us. We’re tumbling. No, it’s okay – I’ve got you; I’m right here. Hold on tight. Don’t let go.I think the ship is breaking apart. The flight deck’s gone.Please stay awake. Don’t let go of me.You never buckled your restraint.