32 lines
1.3 KiB
Plaintext
32 lines
1.3 KiB
Plaintext
*** TRANSLATOR ES-EN ACTIVATED ***
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Personal log:
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Cpl. Miguel Ordóñez
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Prison ship San Marcos
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Today just keeps getting weirder. That chunk of rock that showed up on long
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range scanners like 2 weeks ago is practically at our front door now. What's so
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special about it? We could have just blasted it to bits with the autocannons but
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Samuel tells me the boys at astrometrics have been keeping tabs on it all this
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time.
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Are we getting turned into a science vessel? I sure hope not, I really cannot
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stand to lose another job. Please don't let me lose another job, especially not
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this one! Not that I particularly like it, but I suppose I don't hate it either.
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And if I hadn't been stationed here I wouldn't have met Ramiro either, and I
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know they'd keep him around which means we'd never see each other anymore...
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I'm rambling, as usual. But it just bugs me, I can't help but feel like there's
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something off here. We're a prison ship, we pick up people not random space
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rocks that just happened to float by us.
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And I know this didn't come from high up or anything like that, I may be an
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afterthought to the rest of the crew, but regulations demand even I be kept on
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the loop about new orders and I haven't been told anything, so there.
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Oh, they're calling me to the cargo bay. I guess we're hauling that thing in
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now.
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Back to work...
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*** EOF ***
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