In Flanders fields

Warm welcome, part I

"Land according to the computer"

"Yes, Sir" answered the pilot.

"You all right down there?" I send to engineering.

"Alright for now!" Good answer.

Quickly, the distance to the ground diminished, pushing the pilot to start the different steps of a ground landing.

I have to admit, while I have done many things quite terrifying in my short life, being responsible for the personnel on the ship currently landing with possibly erroneous data and no visibility took a special place in the top ten.

Fortunately, my pilot, who we call Suru, as a joke, is true to his name and can control this ship perfectly. While not above loosing his cool, now he was eerily calm, as if I didn't order him to potentially destroy this ship, and landed smoothly, albeit slightly less smooth than usual.

Because yes, we landed. On earth. On Earth. On Earthen earth.

Shaking myself from my torpor, I quickly announce to the whole crew "people, the 'Freeing Eden' has safely landed on Earth"

Now, we are a small crew, only minimum personnel for such a ship. One wouldn't be able to believe that by hearing the cheers. I'm pretty sure Mars would hear that if sound could pass through the empty void of space...

Well, now that the trip is done, come phase two... Where the fuck are we?

"Johnson, can you find our location? Earth's topology and geography should still be in the database, can you cross reference with the measures you get from your tests, please? We shall prepare for exit."

While he should know exactly what to do, it's best, I've found, to at least remind ensigns when it comes to crucial matters. The please is because on a ship and especially on the bridge we need good relations and also because I was raised to be polite so it became second nature... Still haven't shaken the habit of saying sorry when I bump in the furniture.

The preparation for exit was due to the difference in pressure between the ship and out, as well as air tests needed to measure pollution and oxygen content, to see if we shall need masks or not. We didn't have the time yo get used to it from the pristine Martian air.

As we were changing in the docking space, we received the all clear, albeit with an alarming quantity of pollution and oxygen, from the med bay, as well as Johnson's truly alarming message.

"Sir, the computer is unable to find any matches with the topology of this area. The measures taken upon entry were unable to help, I am afraid I have no way of determining our geolocation. We do know it's not far from where they received and transmitted the messages, to the starboard side of the ship, but that is all and pretty relative... I am sorry."

Okay, wow, today was a good day this morning, why does the universe hate me all of a sudden?

"Thanks Johnson. Okay people, you heard him, we'll have to do without. Bring rations and gear, as much as you can. We do not know how far we must go and what the trip will entail, we might have to cross a pole to get there. We leave in thirty."

----

Burdened with heavy bags, we make our way to the hatch to make our exit. We were dressed in suits capable of sustaining many different temperatures, pressures and climates, sleek, stark white, very modern, and sticking out like a sore thumb on this dark planet.

"Depressurizing" Pause.

"Pressure, stable" I stumble a bit to the hatch, which must be opened manually, and pull the lever, activating the doors, breaking the airtight seal of the hull.