The battered spacecraft was making an uncontrollably quick decent towards an abandoned desert

 planet.

“Houston, this is ‘The Busato’…we have a problem.”

The planet, isolated from religion, prone to hatred, filled with death. So far into the reaches of humanity

that darkness beckons it near. The planet had been abandoned for a short time, its gates only opening

for those who have given up. On this planet, life is at a standstill, not moving forward as is its natural

process.

The spacecraft had entered the planets overwhelming atmosphere. It is said that, those who near the

planet, enough to see past the miasma have doomed themselves to a life of solitude. 

The ship’s speed increased without warning, sending the single occupant of the craft flying forward. His

 belt restraint breaking open, his body sent straight towards the thin glass. His heart racing with every

passing moment, the captain, Michael Busato was now falling out of the craft, straight towards the

dunes of the hellish planet. Tears spilling towards the heavens over his temples and ears. Without a

 sound, he landed into the soft, packed sand. With a gentle push, he flew to his feet. With a quick three-

sixty turn he looked around. Nothing. Darkness, an eternal abyss surrounded him. The planet with no

 light, the planet with hatred. The planet of isolation, it was here where the best died.  Where the

heros fell, where soldiers met hell, where peace has become a forgotten word.

The only sound that could be heard was the ringing of an alarm bell. A faint, gentle sound in the

 distance. The sound was nearing Michael quickly. He spun himself around, bolting away.

The ringing was getting closer.

*Bring, bring*  *Bring Bring*

A huge amount of liquid fell from the sky. “It’s gonna rain now?” The darkness vanished, and with a blur his eyes opened to the hell that surrounded him. A prison guard was looking down on him, a glass of water in one hand.

“You alright there? You looked like you were havin’ a nightmare or something.”

Breathing heavily. Bathed in sweat, he looked up at the guard, nodding slowly as his hand wrapped

around a yellow cloth. He was on a thin mattress in the corner of the cell, the place empty except for the

broken toilet that didn’t flush and the empty toiler paper roll. The forever empty roll.

“Busato, it’s time for your hearing, get up.”

With a nod he got up. Matching the pace of the prison guard, his eyes pinned to the ground. The

Singular thought that crossed his mind was “Who am I kidding? I’m a soldier and…I’m going to hell.”