The end of Victor Franks.

[n00bl3t]

Jason Brunhild delivered the envelope that Victor Franks had posted to the postal sorting office 15 minutes away from the post box where he collected it.

One of the edges had been crinkled in transit.

Brunhild's boss was out for lunch, so he and Hilda Schweringer had to sort out the letters by themselves. This was a usual occurrence.

The letter was stamped and placed in a bag with a GPS marker. It was outbound from the planet, just like every other letter in the room.

Thirteen hours exactly later the transport Volupsa was carrying the letter in it's hold, in a sealed compartment, inside a bag, inside an envelope. The crinkle in the envelope had become more pronounced with the handling.

Twenty three hours and fifty seven minutes after the Volupsa left Planet Baden Baden the sealed compartment where the letters were held suffered a security breach. It was a minor thing. This transport's cargo was low security. The flashing light on the bridge was assumed to be a fault in the wiring.

Junior Engineer Karloff Seran came to the bridge and reported as such. The letter was stuffed into his left breast pocket in his flight suit. It had developed another crinkle.

Victor Franks sat in a reclining sun chair by the pool. He sipped from his iced tea glass frequently. The ice cubes in the glass crackled as they should, and the condensed water slid down the glass. Three hours had passed since he posted the letter.

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Anything I say is not intended as offensive, and to try and deliberately misinterpret it as such would be an attempt at trolling via misrepresentation.

It's not a conspiracy, it's localised bias. They're not intelligent enough to form a conspiracy.