"A jet," Gino finally said. "I never saw that type before."
"Neither did I—but there was something familiar—Look, you saw the wings didn't you? You saw...?"
"If you mean did I see black crosses on the wings, yes I did, but I'm not going to admit it! Or I wouldn't if it wasn't for those new air-conditioning outlets that were just installed in our hull. Do you have any idea what it means?"
"None. But I don't think we'll be too long finding out. Get ready for the landing—just two thousand feet to go."
The jet did not reappear. They tightened their safety harness and braced themselves for the impact. It was a bumping crash and the capsule tilted up on its side, jarring them with vibration.
"Parachute jettisons," Dan Coye ordered, "We're being dragged."
Gino had hit the triggers even as Dan spoke. The lurching stopped and the capsule slowly righted itself.
"Fresh air," Dan said and blew the charges on the port. It sprang away and thudded to the ground. As they disconnected the multiple wires and clasps of their suits hot, dry air poured in through the opening, bringing with it the dusty odor of the desert.
Dan raised his head and sniffed. "Smells like home. Let's get out of this tin box."