The green light blinked and flashed, and a siren wailed, indicating the man in a white space suit that the ship was preparing to expose him to the outside. The obnoxious wailing that filled the cabin could likely get the attention of all seniors within a mile around, whether they were hard of hearing or reading a newspaper. The room was tinted the simple, dim glow of the blinking light. Checking to see that everything was ready, he saw that his emergency life-support system was prepared if he happened to need it. His Data Bar, at the side of his helmet screen, read the Explorer Suit mechanics at one-hundred percent. Oxygen supplies were at the brim. As he thought ahead to the journey that was impending upon him, he realized that he was as ready as he would ever be.
He took a breath of resolve.
The door hissed and gears ground together. White fog hissed out from the door's hinges and latch compressors. The air-tight seal protecting the cabin was no more. His suit notified him of the changes in the atmosphere as he was exposed to the new world. Normally, he kept the cabin pressure at ninety-two-and-a-half kilo-pascals, a smidgen below sea level air pressure. He was more comfortable in that atmosphere. Fortunately, his suit had a function that changed its pressure, so he wouldn't have to cope with the fixed pressure levels, as he had last mission. He was alone on this journey, so there was no one to argue with about the atmospheric pressure. Somehow that made him a bit sad.
He waited for the door to finish opening and before him a new, unknown world revealed itself. The ship itself wouldn't land, though would stay air-bound as he was lowered by a platform. From there the ship would head back into orbit for a week, the time of his mission.
The sound of air rushing by could be heard and his Data Bar, located at the side of his visor, scrambled to adjust to the qualities of the outside. It measured some of the chemicals of the new environment, as well as qualities like temperature and non-water-based moisture. The temperature outside his suit plummeted to negative one-hundred-and-fifty degrees Celsius. It was cold. Quite cold. His Explorer Suit would keep his heat insulated, so he didn't need to fret about his own safety in that area.
His moment of triumph was at hand. The moment he had been waiting for so long for, that he'd been training for. It was his time to shine. Not someone else's. Not anymore.
He took his first steps onto the planet. He already knew the planet was solid from a rover sent ahead earlier on, and that planet had an atmosphere, though a thin one. It was likely too thin to support life, and definitely too thin to support complex life. He stepped out onto the ship's lowering platform, which he would use to safely take his first steps onto the planet. As soon as he was outside though, the planet's star nearly blinded him when its bright rays shone straight into his eyes. His helmet's screen—his visor—had an orange tint to block some of the light. If he had looked at that star with his naked eyes, he'd go blind and the exploration of the planet would be over before it even began.
With the shock of bright white light in his eyes came a dangerous daze to his movements. He couldn't think clearly and staggered off the edge of the ship. He found himself plummeting towards the ground fast and a fearful flurry fluttered through his gut. With a soft thud, he landed deep in the fluffy white ground. It hadn't been the graceful first step he'd been hoping for, but a step was a step—even if it was off a twenty-foot high lowering platform.
The snow itself was freezing cold. Through his touch-sensitive gloves, he could somewhat feel this. Thankfully though, the painful cold in his hands wasn't as bad as it could be, since it didn't recognize anything below negative-twenty degrees Celsius. He struggled to get up and out of the deep snow. On the right side of his visor, his Data Bar read that the snow was mainly composed of a nitrogen compound and some partial crystals of an unidentified, complex, covalent carbon molecule of which had never been seen on his planet. The soft, powdery white snow was a metre deep, coming up to his thighs, but below that, was not solid ground, but a hard, crystalline structure of the same snow. The bottom layer of snow could be deeper than he'd care to find out, so he was cautious walking.
Once on his feet, he quickly brought up his suit's control panel from a touch-screen on his wrist. He adjusted some of the suit's functions—he shut down temperature sensitivity on his gloves so that his hands wouldn't be cold then turned on the block light option on his visor, which targeted any light too bright for his eyes to handle and blocked it from his view with a dark circle on the surface of his visor. In this way, he could see what was in front of him.
The Explorer Suit let out a clear beep in his ears to let him know his adjustments were acknowledged and applied.
A quick glance to his Data Bar told him specifics about the planet. Certain qualities were hard to measure from his space station outside the thin atmosphere of the planet, such as the ground temperature.
Once he saw that the ship was flying back into orbit, he set off on his trek through the deep snow. At first, the going was easy, considering the amount of snow in his way. The snow was fluffy and light, so it was easy to move through. Eventually, though, as he had suspected would happen, the snow wore him down and he started tiring.
There weren't all that many dangers to worry about while pushing through the snow, except for the occasional weak spots in the crusty snow that he walked on. The cold would wear down his battery faster, as well. Even at the rate he was losing battery though, he would last a week and a bit before he had to rely fully on his solar-charged energy pack.
On the empty horizon, he saw an object appear. It was tall and jagged, a bit like a building or a tree. It looked as if it was very large, though it was hard to tell from how far away it was. From previous data collections by a rover, he knew that soil existed somewhere in this region, along with water. The reason he was here at all. Since the soil was composed of organic material, there was life recently on this planet. All he had to do now was find the soil. The rover, Charles Five, stopped sending any signals back to command after it discovered water.
After a while of walking, his Data Bar notified him that he was walking down a very gradual slope. Before he knew it, the snow was gone and he was walking on bare rock, walking towards a tall object in the distance. It was outcropping from the ground, pointing to the sky, as if reaching to touch the murky grayness so far away.
As the distance closed between him and the object, he saw the details of the object come to life.
Eventually, after his tiring trek across the plane of grey-purple rock, he found himself before a fine border of soil. The rich dirt extended to both sides and forward for quite a ways, to far for the man to see the end of. Further ahead in the field of soil, was grass.
The delight of finally finding life was overwhelmingly exciting.
Carefully, he stepped out onto the soil and then to the grass.
Blades of grass, alive with dance from a light breeze at his back, reached out to hug his feet in an otherworldly, alien embrace as he took his first steps onto the soil. The fine blades softly waved back and forth along his foot, as if pushing him onward. They were a light shade of brown, almost brownish-yellow. But also covered in a glossy coat, perhaps suggesting that, despite their dry colour, they were luxuriant and healthy.
Two short beeps from his suit were heard in his ear. The readings on his Data Bar astounded him. His Data Bar, at the corner of his visor, said that the atmosphere was safe to breath. It wasn't safe to breath a second ago. Was something wrong his suit? Was it reading the air wrong? He told himself that it must be a malfunction, but, after checking the condition of some of his equipment and programs, as well as making a quick default scan with his back-up software system, he found that everything was functioning as expected. Though he till wouldn't be able to remove his helmet or anything. The atmospheric pressure was too thin. He wouldn't be able to survive.
Looking at his Data Bar again, it seemed that the atmospheric pressure had changed to. He told himself that had to be a mistake. Atmospheric pressure doesn't change unless altitude changes. He thought again. It could be due to the fact that he was descending when he was walking across the snow. By the readings on his Data Bar, he should be able to take off his helmet. There was enough oxygen and nitrogen to live off of and no hazardous chemicals present. In the air was more hydrogen than a human was used to breathing in, but not enough to cause any serious issues. He could even take off his gas-filter mask if he wanted to. The temperature, as well, had changed. It was a bit chilly still, but nothing that he couldn't handle. It wasn't even cold enough to freeze water. Though in the end he decided it would be best to put his gas-filter mask.
He turned off the air-lock to his helmet and turned on the touch-sensitivity for his gloves from the controls at his wrist. Upon detaching his helmet, he felt the bite of cold on his skin. He was thankful the wind wasn't blowing at his face. He felt the icy-cold, crisp air fill his lung—it was refreshing. It was odd, but breathing oxygen that wasn't from a tank was giddily refreshing. It was as if it was better because it was free to travel the world. It had been an achingly long time since he'd been on his home planet, breathing air from his home.
In his nose, the smell of burning rubber was pungent and mingled with the warm, caramel-scented air. The stingy, foul smell was a disturbance to the other glorious smells in the air.
He began contemplating on having the planet named after him. After all, he did find the life on the planet. He thought how command would be in too good of a mood at finding life to disagree.
He looked up at the planet's star, which, for some odd reason, was more dim than previously. He couldn't look directly at the star, but, even with his helmet now off, he could partially see the hot star in its regal glory. He knelt down to the grass, which held slightly more clarity and presence without his helmet on—without his visor in the way. He ran his hand through the grass, sparks of light flashed among the grass as he did so.
He took his hand away, confounded at the reaction to his touch.
He brought up a replacement for the Data Bar on his arm—it appeared they were releasing small electric charges. Sure enough, he looked down to his boots, and they to were invoking electric charges in the grass. Nothing very lethal, but if exposed to long enough, it could start to cause body failure. Behind the white skin of his suit, it didn't effect him, because of its insulative skin. The wonders of the new planet were amazing and so tantalizingly exciting.
As he knelt, he considered an idea. It probably wasn't wise, he thought. It would be a painful.
It would be worth it, he thought.
He took off his glove. Timidly, afraid of what the brown, electric grass would do to his bare flesh, he watched as his hand reached down...
A small shock was released through his hand, making his hand flinch back instantly. It was a suddenly, surprising sensation. It didn't hurt much, but it was definitely shocking. He unimaginably fast sparks of light disappear just as quick as they had appeared. The aching sensation lasted only a moment in his hand and, once gone, left his nerves dazzled and tingly.
Only seconds after his hand pulled itself back from the shock, a smile spread on his face. The grass was fascinating in his eyes. the wonders of the grass. He would have loved to stay and investigate more, but he knew there was much more to see. He moved on.
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