You're doing the "catwalk" on the Corona 49 to repair a tiny meteor dent to the outer hull. Your muscles move with the semblance of free fall, but your limbs are magnetically connected to the space station's firm bulkhead with each passing step.
Suddenly, a solar blast from a distant sun-spot temporarily blinds your visor and you teeter outward on one foot.
As you struggle in desperation to regain your footing, the Corona's engine core is shocked into frenzy by a magnetic discharge deep inside. The auto-pilot of the orbiting platform spins out-of-control as you hang onto a rubber support attached to the outer surface of the hull.
The station's outer hull is too slick and slippery even for your gloves. You realize too late that the meteor's dent would have offered a firmer foot-hold.
(You slide off the station's edge into the black ether beyond.)
The meteor's small dent offers the tip of your boot some toe-support, and you climb up into the safety of the air chamber. You sigh and lift your helmet as the air-buffers surround you with cooling wind.
Meanwhile, the Corona is starting to burn up in Earth's atmosphere, as the giant object goes wheeling out of orbit. It's clear you've got to find the flight-controls that are in disarray - fast.
Hand-and-eye dexterity successfully thwart the heat-path aimed at flaring destruction. (The only "flight attendant" on board is you - the Commander of this previously-routine mission.) Thank God you know how to manually pilot this mega-ton Space Bird!
