Don

Don was jarred. 

He never liked landing with the chute. I was never pleasant. Most of the time, the craft would receive some sort of damage, usually minor. He'd only done it a couple of times, not including training, and was never fond of it. All the systems in the Dart went offline as soon as it hit, and were now coming back up. 

He looked around the control panels to check the status. The maneuvering thrusters still showed 20% fuel, the orbital engines 10%. They'd have to be drained immediately. 

Technically, the craft wasn't "safed".

Which is why he was wondering about the crash trucks heading his way. 

Where were the ground trucks?

Then there were the large, squarish, black... vehicles. They looked like these old trucks called GM Suburbans his father used to have pictures of from his childhood. Nobody made anything like than anymore. 

Or so he thought. 

The large black vehicles positioned themselves nearby, about eight meters out. They was emerging from them, though the personnel in the crash trucks were now fully suited and cautiously approaching. 

The crash crew stood about twenty five feet from the strange looking aircraft, listening as it hissed. From two panels near the back, their would be an occasional jet of what they assumed was steam. They were afraid to go any closer.

"Dart 6, this is Jax Center, over."

Don opened his visor, "go ahead, Jax, over."

"Dart 6, set your frequency to 121.8 if you can, ground control there wants to speak with you, over."

"Will do, thanks, switching over now"

He punched the frequency in.

"Craig control, this is Dart 6, over."

"Dart 6, this is Jack Bello, FAA, are you alright, over?"

"Hi Jack... my name's Don Visser, yeah, I'm okay, winded, but okay. Tell that crew to back off for a minute. My APU's are still blowing off some steam, I'm going to purge them in a minute. Where's the ground equipment, over?"

"Uhm... coming up from the space center, over."

"Why weren't they here, over?"

"You weren't expected, but they are on their way, over."

Don thought for a moment. It had been a couple of years, it was possible, and he hadn't heard otherwise. 

"Okay," Don replied, "tell the crew to step back, going to purge the APU's, over."

"Toxic fuel, over?"

"Negative, Jack."

"Copy. Go ahead."

Don brought up the APU controls on the touch screen and located "FULL PURGE". He touched the screen. The APU vents opened up, and a cloud of steam enveloped the back of the craft for a few seconds, and quickly dissipated. 

"Okay Jack, purged. Going to open up the cockpit and step out. Need to stretch my legs, two weeks in space."

"Copy... Don... go ahead."

On either side of Don, at shoulder height, were two levers. He stuck his gloved hands in them, and pulled. The cockpit roof slid back, followed by the sound of the hiss of cockpit pressure equalizing. As the roof slid back, four small doors on the left side of the craft opened, revealing footholds. 

Climbing out of the cockpit in full pressure suit was no easy task. As he reached the ground, three armed men walked up. 

"Don't move!" the first one commanded.

"Hey, hey, easy now, fellas, let me get my helmet off, okay?" he said to them, "why the weapons?"

"Okay, you can remove the helmet, and drop it, but no other moves, do you understand?"

"Yes, damn! Okay!"

Don opened each of the latches around the helmet, bent over, and removed it, letting his dreadlocks fall. Standing back up, he shook his head. 

"The free dreads aren't protocol, but I hate those hair coverings..."

The armed men rushed Don, and tackled him to the ground.