Location : Sector 7-B, Torin System
Time : 2:33pm C.E.T.
Date : Oct 11, 2271
Lucas Vann, explorer of worlds and legend to the people of earth, instinctively presses the blinking com button on his ship's console.
"This is Vann." He says with a raspy voice that only comes from a mixture of age and ridiculous amounts of smoke inhalation.
"Vann, it's a beautiful day here on Earth," the speaker above Vanns head chirps.
"I can only imagine." Vann responds with more than a hint of sarcasm.
"Want a live feed? I can get one for you." the comm cracks back.
"What do you want, Chuck?" Vann asks blankly, ending any chance for further banter.
"Control needs to know if you are ready for arrival," Chuck states soberly.
"I'm ready and Everything is in-check." Vann's voice is harsh, and cuts to the point.
"Command gives you the green light, Vann. Good luck, God speed, and safe travels."
The bright green light to the left of the comm switch fades into black. With the slightest swish of his hand, Vann flips three switches, pushes a button, and sits back in his seat. He closes his eyes, locks his hands behind his head and visibly relaxes as the speckled white and olive planet looming out of his ship's front window grows larger and larger.
Nearly ten minutes pass before the ship enters the atmosphere, causing it to shake violently and burst into flames. None of this seems to phase Vann, as he's been through this scenario before. A few moments later the ship has landed softly on the planet's rough surface. Vann sits forward, opens a compartment near his right arm and pulls out a crinkled pack of cigarettes. He opens the pack with the flick of his thumb while reading a monitor describing the planets atmosphere, toxicity levels, and physical hazards.
Pulling a pen lighter from his left pocket, he lights his cig and takes a long drag before exhaling the smoke from his nostrils. "Twenty-Eight." he says to himself in a half whisper half cough. It's the number of planets he's visited, explored, and documented for the sake of science.
Vann lifts his left leg up and kicks a large lever that causes the entire front end of the ship to open like a door, exposing him to ice-covered mountains as far as he could see. He pushes himself out of his seat, turns around and scoops up his clear fishbowl-of-a-helmet and twists it into place over his head.
He doesn't even take more than five steps into the snow when a white hair-covered giant insect leaps from the powder and ends his prestigious career.
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