Here is an excerpt from Angry Moon.

     The buffeting grew worse as the shuttle descended. To Eddie, it felt as though he was racing down a mountainslope in a trolley with square wheels. His teeth were shaken in their sockets, but he thought it possible that his back was getting a really good massage. “Is this normal?” he asked. “Is this what a re-entry normally feels like?” He looked out the porthole beside him, but all he could see was yellow fire.

     “When we return to Earth, you'll be able to make a comparison,” said Benny. “And technically, this is a descent, not a re-entry, since this isn't the world we came from.”

     “I stand corrected,” Eddie replied. He could feel the vibrations warbling his voice. It seemed impossible that any man made structure could survive this kind of punishment! He stared at the bulkhead beside him, half expecting to see cracks spreading through it. They were all wearing spacesuits, just in case there was a hull breach. Their helmets were sitting in their laps, there was enough gravity from their deceleration to hold them in place. If the shuttle sprang an air leak, they could put them on and screw them down in just a moment.

     “Actually, the deceleration feels a little less than it should,” the Swede replied. “That may mean that the atmosphere’s less dense than we expected, which would mean that it's not slowing us down as much as it should, although I prefer to believe that it's because we currently have a supersonic tailwind.”

     “What happens if the atmosphere doesn't slow us enough?”

     “Then we will hit the ground travelling at several thousand kilometres an hour and create a new crater that will last for a day or two before what's left of the moon's solid crust sinks into the moon’s deep interior.”

     Eddie nodded thoughtfully. “So. A supersonic tailwind, eh? And that's better?”

     “Yes, because even though a tailwind means we are slowing less than we need, it will soon turn into a supersonic headwind that will slow us more than we need. The two will balance each other out and we will arrive at the surface with a low enough speed to make a safe landing.”

     “Of course, between the tailwind and the headwind, we have to pass through the transition layer,” said Paul.

     “What transition layer?” asked Eddie nervously.

     “When you have two currents of air travelling in opposite directions, there will be a layer of turbulence between them,” said Benny. “And when the two currents are both supersonic, the turbulence will be fierce. Thankfully, our own speed will still be great enough that we will pass through it very quickly, but it is still likely to be bumpy.”

     “More bumpy than this?”

     “Quite considerably more bumpy.”

     “Bumpy enough to damage the shuttle?”

     “Will you please shut up!” cried Susan desperately. “I'm trying very hard not to think about what might be about to happen to us!”

     “Sorry,” said Benny, “but the transition layer is very close now. We might be entering it at any time. Please put your helmets on now, we can’t have them hurling around the cabin like missiles.”

     They did so, lifting them over their heads and down so that their bases met the neck seals. They adjusted them until the screw threads matched and then secured them in place with a firm twist. Eddie saw the diagnostic display light up on the inside of his visor and saw a number of messages popping up to tell him that each of the spacesuit’s systems was operating correctly. He heard the others breathing over the helmet’s intercom connection. “Helmet on and secure,” he said. The others repeated the words one by one.

     They were just in time. The shuttle gave a sudden, violent lurch that threw the shuttle's nose down. Susan gave a shriek as their heads were thrown back hard against the padded headrests, and for a moment Eddie could see nothing but whiteness, as if someone were shining a cobalt lamp directly into his eyes. He was aware of the shuttle tumbling over and over and the contents of his stomach rose in his throat. He forced himself not to throw up with an effort. His arms were stretched out in front of him by the centrifugal forces of the shuttle’s wild spinning. The windows flickered with brightness and darkness as they were alternately pointing downwards, feeling the full force of atmospheric friction, and then pointing upwards, shielded from the hellish blast of corrosive air passing them at about a mile a second. As Eddie's eyes recovered from the shock, he contemplated the fact that there were no heat resistant tiles protecting the windows or the shuttle's upper surface and wondered how long they could survive this wild tumbling.

     The autopilot, calculating and responding hundreds of times faster than any human, was already working to bring the shuttle back under control, though, and gradually the vessel responded, the tumbling slowing and then coming to a halt with the heat shield once again under them, taking the brunt of the atmosphere’s fury. “We are now through the transition layer,” said Benny, rather unnecessarily, Eddie thought.

     The flames visible through the porthole were starting to fade as the shuttle continued to slow. Eddie could feel that their deceleration was fiercer than it had been, no doubt because they were now in a headwind rather than a tailwind. “Can you tell if we’re slowing enough yet?” he asked.

     Benny was staring at the cockpit instruments. “Wait a minute,” he said. “The autopilot’s working on it, doing the calculations. It doesn't help that we have only a very approximate idea where we are.”

     “You mean we’re off course?”

     “Eddie,” said Paul, “no doubt the pilot would be able to do his job much more easily if he didn't have to keep answering your questions.”

     “Yes, sorry. I talk when I'm nervous. You've probably noticed.”

     “It doesn’t bother me,” said Benny. “However, I'm afraid I have some bad news. As far as the autopilot is able to determine, we are going to fall short of our intended landing site by about thirty kilometres.”

     “That's bad,” said Paul.

     “Yes.”

     “How certain are you of our position? What's the margin for error?”

     “I can't be certain. The trouble with landing in a large, flat plain is that, at this altitude, there are no landmarks for the radar to get a fix on. We are relying on inertial guidance, and there is a possibility that they may have been thrown off by the turbulence we just passed through, causing them to give a false position. I am assuming that they are still giving us an accurate position.”

     “Yes, of course. What else can you do? So, how do we reach the landing site?”

     “We can extend our range by firing the engines for a few moments, just enough to gain a few hundred metres of altitude.”

     “Do we have enough spare fuel for that?”

     “I can't say without knowing how much the mass dampener will reduce the mass of the moon. However, all the fuel in the world won't help us if we land in the wrong place.”

     “You're the pilot,” said Paul. “It has to be your decision.”

     Benny nodded. “I will fire the engines,” he said. “Please prepare yourselves.” He touched some controls on the touchscreen and a moment later they felt a gentle acceleration once again pressing them back into their seats.

     The yellow fire had gone from the windows, Eddie saw, and he leaned over to look through his small porthole. It was completely black out there. Not only were they on the moon's night side but they were also on the side facing away from the Earth, so that there was no reflected earthlight to see by, and even if there had been, it probably wouldn't have been able to make it through the clouds that completely covered the sky. In the distance, though, he could see flashes of light on the horizon, as if a titanic battle were being fought. A lightning storm that silhouetted a jagged line of mountains. Eddie silently gave thanks that it was far away from them. He really wouldn’t have wanted to have to fly through that...