The Marine that clomped into the room almost shot him in the back, but realized he wasn't hostile. It paused in the doorway, looking at him. 

The suit was impressive; almost ten feet tall and four feet wide at the shoulders, whenever it moved the servos in its joints hummed. A pair of orange lightbulbs were set in the eye sockets, where, ostensibly, the visual suite was kept. "The transport hit a buoy. Had to make an emergency landing. Apparently it didn't go well," said the suit in a resonant baritone. "You the only live one?" It stepped further into the demolished cabin and began turning men over with its massive rifle. After briefly looking into the faces of the dead men, the suit would move to the next, until it had worked its way over to the man. Standing straight with a hydraulic hiss, the suit peered down at him. "Lucky." 

It watched him for a long moment, then stomped around him to push the hatch release. When nothing happened, it pushed it again. With an angry chuff, the suit jabbed the button even harder. "Fuckin' thing. Screw it," and just like that, the suit ripped the metal door aside with a squeal and tossed it over its shoulder. 

The wind that howled through the newly open door was violent in its intensity, whipping purple sand onto the floor and spinning through the air. The Marine blocked most of it, but it was enough to sense how inhospitable the planet was. The light outside was an odd shade of lavender that blazed into ultraviolet sky, and jagged rocks of amethyst jutted like teeth around the crash site. The suit stepped aside. "We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto."