129 lines
6.0 KiB
Plaintext
129 lines
6.0 KiB
Plaintext
Message Incoming...
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Source Melchizedek.0294
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Approach β Hyi
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Ascension 00h 25m 45.07036s
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Declination –77° 15′ 15.2860″
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Distance 24.33ly
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Equinox J2000.0 SOL
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Year 3781, QEC adjusted
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[Autotranslator enabled...]
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Stephanie Janssen, Specialist First-class
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:::
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Hey universe, it's Stephanie again.
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So, Seriph Adeyemi had a talk with me and now I've got to send out
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another message since the last one wasn't great. It was not okay
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for me to talk about the crew like I did, and so I'm here to set
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the record straight. Navigator Hämäläinen and I were celebrating
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the spirit of the season a bit too hard and made things seem worse
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than they are. We're not fucked, okay?
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I mean, things really did look pretty bad, and we have spent
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a month in the dark. On a traditional ship we'd be suffocating in
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the heat from our bodies without any way to rad-out the excess,
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but the grav-sheer drive sucks so much energy from Melchi's
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surface that it's colder than lunar balls on a dark side squat.
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Eva joked that we don't need to go back into cryo cause the whole
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ship will do it for us. It was funnier when she said it.
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It sounds bad, right? But it really isn't, or it's getting better.
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Our people know what they're doing. I mean, they're all pretty
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much geniuses in what they do or they wouldn't be here, right?
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It's like the slime--
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Seriph Adeyemi and Captain Pasani were taking the slime in cryo
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really seriously at first, thinking it might have screwed with the
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crew in some way. Once we figured out it was harmless Adeyemi was
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ready to cleanse the whole patch and be done with it but the
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captain made us go in and carefully move it into containment.
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I was worried we were prepping the worst dinner in the 'verse, to
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be honest. Not even Prezzi knew what he had planned. I guess
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Jerome has access to all our personal docs in the pads or
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something because he knew all about Kroups genetics work back on
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Gamma. He didn't even need to thaw him out. He just plucked his
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notes out of the pad and passed them to Doctor Idjani.
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I was there when he did it, too. We were in flex--that's our
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muscle tensioning training to avoid low-G wasting, even though
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we're at a full G and I don't understand why we need to do it
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every other cycle. But anyway, we're all strapped down and
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sweating. It was me, the doc, and Eva who was singing some old
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farming songs from the way back. She was warballing or undulating
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or something with her tongue in her throat (it's supposed to sound
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like some Earth mammal) when Jerome pokes his head in. He didn't
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give Eva a second glance! When he's into it like that it's like
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the rest of the 'verse better just get out of the way or shut up.
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He locked eyes with the doc and slipped over.
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Then he's like, "Doc, you have the slime-shit all locked up?"
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And doc nods like, "Yeah, it's under my bunk," or something gross
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like that.
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And out of nowhere Jerome goes, "Kroups has a phenotypic allele
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psuedogene mutation that causes the daughter cells to be
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heterozygous at the fragile sites," or some utter gibberish like
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that. Jerome's no geneticist and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't know
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the first thing about phytology, but he's spouting out syllables
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all over the place. Doc keeps on nodding like he understands any
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of it, but I can read him and that shit was going right over his
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head too. The captain keeps it up for another couple minutes and
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starts getting into detail about Kroups notes and that's when my
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ears perk up. I had no idea he could read our private logs, but
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apparently it's a thing and of course my mind immediately goes to
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some stuff in mine, and then I look at Jerome's butt, and now my
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face must be red from more than the flex. Thank the stars the
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captain was all focused on the doc.
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At the end of it, the two of them put a plan together to mess with
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the slime's DNA and make it into something useful. I guess it must
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have been on his mind because of the arabidopsis. If fucking empty
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space can play DNA lottery, why not us? And thank the stars he
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thought of it because the Melchizedek just got a 2^6 times better.
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In less than a cycle the doc had that slime glowing like our
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Christmas lights. No really, literally glowing. Bio-luminescence
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it's called, and it's a thing of beauty. The slime is smeared all
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over the vents now on all decks since that's where the moisture
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collects anyway. The gunk glows with this really amazing
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blue-green light. It's not that bright yet, but you can see well
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enough to walk the decks again, and Jerome says that as the slime
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continues to spread it'll get brighter.
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So yeah, we're not fucked. We've got glowing slime! Take that,
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science.
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Speaking of science, last time I mentioned that our beloved and
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trusted captain was doing some funny math about us arriving on
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schedule without getting the old bug-splat from deceleration.
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Well, he finally came clean and explained it to the rest of us and
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I. Am. Not. Impressed.
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Apparently we can get to β Hyi safely without going back into cryo
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and without the big squish, but it's going to take an extra four
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deceleration orbits skimming the atmo of β Hyi 3. We'll gradually
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work our way in closer on each slingshot and cut thrust. That's
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not exactly quick, though. The first orbit will take an extra
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month. The other three get progressively faster but all together
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it means that three months left is actually six months left.
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Orbital mechanics can blow me.
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Prezzi tells me this is not a problem. Got that? I am to say that
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this is not a problem. There, I said it.
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So this not-problem means we're going to run out of rations about
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halfway to touchdown. This lack of problem means that our
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temperature is going to drop below freezing about a month before
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touchdown as well. There's absolutely no problem at all with
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sticking around out here where space may or may not chop up your
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genes at any moment. It's an adventure!
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For real, though, we're going to make it. If the captain can turn
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fucking space-slime into hallway lighting then he can sure as hell
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figure out a way to keep us fed and warm for a bit longer. These
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people are geniuses and beautiful and they're going to save
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everyone. Got that, Prezzi? Everyone.
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.
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