George stared intensely at the dusty ground, obscured as it was by fleeing clouds of yellow dirt. He gripped the joystick tightly with both hands, carefully twisting it, gauging each jolt and lurch, making sure the ship remained stable.

It was the third day since the initial landing, and George was tasked with wrestling one of the enormous dropships onto the ground without destroying it and, more importantly, its contents. To his best knowledge this one contained an assortment of metal and plastic, to be used in construction of the new city.

The dropships were one of several auxiliary vessels carried by the Facem. Unlike the passenger shuttles, they were thick and blocky, shaped rather like bricks, with powerful chemical rockets attached to each corner After a harrowing journey through the atmosphere, these rockets were the only means by which to land the dropships, since they had no wings or parachutes.

The ungainly machines were meant to be automated; their landing AI was rather advanced and would have been able to ground the vessel with much more grace than even George could. It was only yesterday, on the first cargo deliveries, that a problem had been discovered. For some yet unknown reason, the dropships could not reliably locate themselves. For any spacecraft to be able to land, it was vitally important that the positioning systems be functional, but all had failed in some way or another. The primary means by which location was derived involved bouncing a continuous stream of radio between the dropship and an orbiting satellite, and measuring the slight response lag to find the distance. By using multiple satellites, the dropship could then triangulate its exact location. Unfortunately, the receivers on the dropships were not working as expected, and couldn't receive any signal from the sats. The backup guidance system worked by having the dropship detect Gaea's magnetic field. This way, the machine could correctly find the cardinal direction in which it was pointing. Knowing the location from which it began, it could then semi- accurately find its way to the landing site. However, the compasses did not seem to function properly on the surface; as the dropships approached the ground, they would begin to spin erratically, believing that "north" was in several directions at once. It had thus been decided to have human pilots take the ships down instead.

The ground leapt closer. The ship, like some enormous horsefly, hovered and pitched, repeating the action until it floated a meter above the ground. The engines cut off abruptly, and the dropship crashed into the surface with a burst of gravel and creaking metal.

Outside, an improvisational village had sprung out of the soil. Shelters were clustered around an unusually shaped hill, many taking advantage of the shade it gave. They were mostly white or grey tents, with a sturdy scaffold draped in a thick plastic skin. A few of the structures were more substantial. A command building made of cinder block stood at the edge of the village, and four concrete storm shelters huddled at the base of the hill.

George, still sweating from the intensity of the landing, escaped the cramped cockpit and jumped onto the dry ground below. The air was pleasantly warm, yet thick with dust that stung the side of his face. He stared apathetically at the long line of dropships that had come before him, stretching toward the mountains in the distance. George then went to the cargo bays of his own vessel, and watched as they hummed open.

The Facem gradually regurgitated its cargo onto the planet. Supplies were hauled out of the dropships, temporary shelters were constructed. Rich, imported soil was laid down atop the dry, alien dirt. Piece by piece, humanity built a replica of its homeland in this foreign place. The machine of civilization quickly swallowed George's dropship as well. A combination of robotic and human workers delved into its cargo bay and hauled sheets of white plastic and support columns out. George watched them passively from nearby. It was difficult to gauge time without motion of the sun, but George guessed that he stood for more than four hours. Just watching.

Other dropships began landing nearby. Their pilots were all quick to leave, hurrying back toward Eridu, but George did not follow them. About three hours into his vigil, the last of the dropships descended from the sky.

George blinked as the cargo bay doors of the final dropship rumbled shut. Already, the dust and airborne salt had started to corrode their exteriors. The metal hulls had changed from a dull gray to yellow, the first hints of rust were appearing as slim maroon fringes.

George stepped away from the ship and regarded the long line of yellow bricks, now empty husks, stretching nearly a kilometer toward the fledgling city in the distance.

A man whose name he couldn't seem to remember walked up beside him.

"It's a shame, really. All these flying machines, doomed to rust here."

"Unfortunate," was all George could procure.

The wind murmured to itself. The man, whoever he was, regarded George for a moment, then turned around and looked toward the perpetually setting sun.

"That sunrise sure is nice though"

George followed his gaze. The bloated orange sphere perched atop the faraway mountain range, between two peaks. He realized that it could have been rising. George grunted his approval.

The man stood for a moment before going on his way. George followed soon after.

The man eventually lost himself in the fledgling city of Eridu, another anxious face among all the others. He weaved toward the hill, with its sheer sides, and finally arrived at the base. No one made any notice of him as he lay down a thin plastic tarp on the sand and pitched his ramshackle home in the cool shadow. As the foot traffic died and the silence of a midnight began to settle on the brightly lit city, he settled in and waited.

By the time they arrived, the man was asleep, but he rose quickly with the conspiratorial whispers outside. No words were exchanged as he gathered his things and followed the three others to one of the great grey storm shelters.

Within, almost flush with the wall and nearly invisible, was a door.

And behind that door lay Armageddon.

Several hours later, the sun had not moved from its position between the mountains. George, unable to sleep, glared at it in annoyance. He'd finally decided that it was indeed setting, because he would never be able to rest if it did not go away soon.

George had also started to notice the augmented gravity of this planet. Like everyone else, he had gone through several months of physical training, but no amount of preparation could have readied him to weigh twice what he normally did. The sheer heaviness that his own body took wore away at his patience.

George decided to leave the small plastic tent that he'd made for himself. He walked onto the gravel road that was the backbone of the new village. The town was largely in the shadow of the nearby hill. New fields and farms were arrayed in various interlocking polygons at the base of the hill, still bare and brown. The stark difference between the rich mulch and the barren desert beyond struck George as unsettling. He continued walking, the planet's gravity clinging and clawing at his legs.

George reached the end of the road. In front of him stretched the ruddy desolation. A notification appeared on the periphery of his vision, but he shook his head to clear it. It appeared again, and again he wished it away. He wanted to watch.

The wind, a constant feature of this landscape, whistled quietly, carrying small clouds of yellow dust from the earth. They skidded along, figures hurrying about imaginary business. The dust blurred the figures into a shimmer of color and light.

"Did you have fun, ensign? Missing your debriefing?"

Caroline had very little patience left for this pilot. Insubordinate, undisciplined, a broken cog in the machine. The issue needed to be dealt with.

George only frowned and shrugged tentatively at the question. The admiral's blood nearly boiled over at the gesture, but she collected herself and proceeded.

"And why did you miss that debriefing, Mr. Archer?"

The ensign stared at her for a moment, before mumbling something about watching the landings.

"Well. You'll be happy to know that you won't have to attend anything like that in the foreseeable future. I'm assigning you to orbital maintenance duty. You'll be stationed onboard the Facem, and may be called upon to perform basic repair operations for colonial assets in space from time to time. Are you up to the task, ensign?"

George cocked his head and asked, "Will I have any crewmates working with me?"

"No. You'll be alone up there, ensign. Will that be a problem?"

George supposed it wouldn't be and shook his head.

"Good. Report to this building at oh seven hundred tomorrow and you will be escorted to your shuttle. Thank you for your service."

Salutes were exchanged and the man turned to leave.

Caroline sighed in relief as the ensign walked away. He was annoyingly insolent, not malicious. Far from it; he seemed devoid of desire or emotion. He was, however, nearly useless to her, considering his lack of discipline. The assignment would put him in a harmless place, and perhaps make use of him at the same time.

In the meantime, there had been some debate as to whether there should be a manned expedition into the unexplored barrens. Caroline looked at the bare, cinder walls of her command building, out the thin, tall windows and the desert beyond. It was daunting, to be sure. But then again, so was the prospect of colonizing the stars.

There were many reasons to explore the open desert. It would give her greater knowledge of what lay beyond the borders of Eridu, and perhaps an opportunity to plan and establish further settlements on the planet. There was also the possibility of untapped mineral wealth, or some other secret Gaea might hold from the eyes of the satellites above. Perhaps a cave deep underground. Maybe life.

But there was very little chance of that. The observational satellites were state of the art. They could see in most wavelengths of light, run spectral analysis on the surface. Indeed, it was possible to find deposits of iron and titanium from orbit. All the exploration anyone would ever need could be done by the satellites. Indeed, there was already a long list of other possible settlement locations, with aquifers and mineral resources, compiled by the watching spacecraft.

But there was one, very important point that drove Caroline to her final decision.

The atmosphere of Gaea was heavy with oxygen. Without some sort of photosynthetic organism to produce it, the oxygen would have all been absorbed by the rocks, making the air lethal. There were a few other possible explanations, but the mystery was a vital one. While the chances that a manned expedition would uncover an answer were slim, they still offered a greater possibility than doing nothing.

So the expedition was being organized even now. A simple rover, two explorers, and the hopes of the colony.

Caroline got up and left the building herself. She made her way to the outskirts of Eridu, where a compact communications array stood between a tent and the newly sowed fields. The tent was marked by the UDS circle, blue and white, and flashed with computer monitors within. A bearded man sat at the base of the comm array with a laptop.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Hernandez. How is everything going on your end."

"Very well, Admiral Pierce. Our satellites are working nicely. Global positioning, mapping and spectral analysis are all functional."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. As you know, our first task is to find a source of basic metals for construction purposes."

"I'm glad to hear it, Admiral. I'll let you know when something comes up.