Santiago Rocha

The heavy hydraulics of the armored rover hiss as the vehicle lurches to a halt at the very edge of the grassy plains, carefully avoiding the slight incline of the foothills ahead. Inside the cockpit, Santiago grips the steering yoke until his knuckles are white, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor mats.

Don't look out the side window, don't look out the side window... He mutters under his breath before clicking his comms on. Alright, recruit. You see those purple crystalline formations up ahead? The ones on the flat ground? That’s our target. I’ve parked 'The Anchor' right here on this perfectly level, beautifully low-altitude patch of dirt. I'll stay here and... uh... monitor the seismic stability from the safety of the reinforced floorboards. You go grab the samples. And for the love of the stars, stay away from that hill! It looks at least twelve feet high. Why are you just standing there? The dirt isn't going to analyze itself!