[ WP ] You 're an asteroid miner i deep space , you are left behind when the colony is evacuated and must make your way back to civilization .

Secondary writing prompt theme: Nazis and Post-Steampunk 
 
 This ought to do it. Three hundred tonnes of Grade 3 Blast Coal. The miracle propellant that brought humanity into space in the 1840s. Now it's 1942, and a war is on. The Nazis with their Vengeance class spaceships have decimated the British and French mining stations and colonies throughout the solar system. On the asteroid Bennu, we have evacuated. All except for me. 
 
 I was left behind to control the mining equipment and commit the self destruct in case the Nazis attempt to take over the space station. Just after the crew left, I got a transmission from my wife. She was pregnant. I could n't just leave her. I had eight months to figure out how to get back to Earth. 
 
 The solution was three hundred tonnes of Grade 3 Blast Coal. This is the raw stuff, not too efficient. I did n't have time to refine it all. I also did n't have time to invent an entire spaceship design, so I just rearranged the surface base directly onto the massive makeshift rocket booster. When the stars aligned, it was time to launch. The travel time was to be only 30 days. It was cutting it awfully close, but I would be back in London well before the due date. 
 
 30 days later, I was pressed back into my seat by the braking stage. I was a bit off course, but the peroxide thrusters should at least get me to a deorbit trajectory. I flew into the atmosphere, steering the makeshift capsule with its corkboard heatshield. It was a miracle that it worked, really. The parachute deployed just over London, and I watched as my capsule hit the pavement. But there was something wrong. It was 7:30 PM, but no one was outside. I stepped out of my capsule and looked around. It was quiet. I walked carefully and slowly to my apartment. I knocked on my door, and found that nobody was home. I figured that my wife must have gone to the hospital already. I walked to the hospital, and noticed something terrible. Flying high over the Union Jack was a black and white swastika over a red background. Panicking, I tore off my British Interplanetary Agency uniform and threw it in the trash. 
 
 I hid in the bushes as I heard footsteps. Some men were talking in German, and I figured they must have been the Nazi police. 
 
 This explained why I stopped getting transmissions. The Nazis must have taken over England, and no doubt the British space station as well. No one was outside because there must have been some kind of curfew. The Secret Service officers passed me and I was quiet as a mouse in a vacuum. I retreated to my home, and thought about how I could survive here.
