-"Keep your heads down!"-her voice was barely a rough whisper getting drowned in the ocean of fire being spitted by the engines, a few words traveling a short distance with a meaning of life and death nobody outside the 18 in this metal can would appreciate.
Typically the trip was quiet and governed by silence, the death of space welcomes not only souls but the very life of sound, it is as if it never existed to them, sound was a luxury nobody cared for; trapped in their suits, the helmets providing the only means of survival, it would also keep sound away from their ears for months, it was like living on a mute movie where the only means of communication were lip-reading and signs, living like this for a prolonged period of time has multiple consequences, one of them being a sudden nausea and vomit once the silence is dead and the earth-trembling sound of the engines was in full presence, it was typical for veteran travelers to feel the pressure building and pass out sometimes; for new comers it was certain to be a much worse sensation, a drill of a thousand tons making way to the brain, a vibrating sensation that would ache for weeks at least, the acidic flavor in the mouth after vomiting nothing but digestive acids.
-"We'll take a round turn, hang on to ---!"-the captain screamed.
A second bang hit the ship, the metal was like fabric giving in to the rocks, in a few seconds the back section of the ship was exposed and two of the crew members were already on their way to meet the land without means to slow their approach as the rest would still be hoping to be able to do.
It was not an exceptional situation they were in, a good ten percent of all trips had some kind of trouble on the way in, crashes were just a number reported on a greensheet below other costs, when all combined the tragedy of losses was not really a factor in driving operational changes to offset it.
As the land approached, with no sight of the base, it was becoming certain that this trip was about to add to the statistic, even if they make it in one piece there would be little possibility that some rescue party would go looking for them, the opportunity lied in making it as close as possible to one of the transport routes, then maybe they could catch one of the automated cargo trains and make it to one of the bases, even if not the one they were intended to arrive to.
-"Alright people, this is going to get rough!"-the instruction came just as the ship hit the ground, the hull made a sound so definite it was like a statement: "You will not make it"
One of the engines got ripped and the main cabin was torn apart, the skyline was visible now, the combined red and fiery orange on the horizon was a view like no other, people spoke of it hundreds of times and yet even veterans felt like it was the first time they arrived, it was not a welcoming party, more like a reminder of what lied ahead, a wasteland: welcome to mars.
Typically the trip was quiet and governed by silence, the death of space welcomes not only souls but the very life of sound, it is as if it never existed to them, sound was a luxury nobody cared for; trapped in their suits, the helmets providing the only means of survival, it would also keep sound away from their ears for months, it was like living on a mute movie where the only means of communication were lip-reading and signs, living like this for a prolonged period of time has multiple consequences, one of them being a sudden nausea and vomit once the silence is dead and the earth-trembling sound of the engines was in full presence, it was typical for veteran travelers to feel the pressure building and pass out sometimes; for new comers it was certain to be a much worse sensation, a drill of a thousand tons making way to the brain, a vibrating sensation that would ache for weeks at least, the acidic flavor in the mouth after vomiting nothing but digestive acids.
-"We'll take a round turn, hang on to ---!"-the captain screamed.
A second bang hit the ship, the metal was like fabric giving in to the rocks, in a few seconds the back section of the ship was exposed and two of the crew members were already on their way to meet the land without means to slow their approach as the rest would still be hoping to be able to do.
It was not an exceptional situation they were in, a good ten percent of all trips had some kind of trouble on the way in, crashes were just a number reported on a greensheet below other costs, when all combined the tragedy of losses was not really a factor in driving operational changes to offset it.
As the land approached, with no sight of the base, it was becoming certain that this trip was about to add to the statistic, even if they make it in one piece there would be little possibility that some rescue party would go looking for them, the opportunity lied in making it as close as possible to one of the transport routes, then maybe they could catch one of the automated cargo trains and make it to one of the bases, even if not the one they were intended to arrive to.
-"Alright people, this is going to get rough!"-the instruction came just as the ship hit the ground, the hull made a sound so definite it was like a statement: "You will not make it"
One of the engines got ripped and the main cabin was torn apart, the skyline was visible now, the combined red and fiery orange on the horizon was a view like no other, people spoke of it hundreds of times and yet even veterans felt like it was the first time they arrived, it was not a welcoming party, more like a reminder of what lied ahead, a wasteland: welcome to mars.
