11th of Jugust, 5502
Morning
Another shuttle crashed early this morning. Carrying tribals. In the smoldering wreckage, we found three souls - Riku, Dash, and Mayer.
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Wolfgang and I were the only ones with enough medical know-how to tend to their injuries. We used our last stores of herbal medicine, and the medbay is at capacity, but they are stable now.
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Riku pledged his allegiance to our colony almost immediately. There was a fire in his eyes that spoke of a determination to survive, to thrive. Mayer remained quiet, contemplative. Eventually he spoke. He too would stay, lending his strength to our cause.
Dash was a different story. As the sun dipped below the horizon, he left, a lone figure against the sprawling canvas of night.
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The crash and its aftermath have brought new faces to our fold, a mixture of hope and uncertainty. In their eyes, I see reflections of our own struggles, our own dreams. In this isolated corner of existence, we are but motes of dust in a vast, indifferent universe, yet together, we forge a semblance of meaning, a semblance of home.
We are low on herbal medicine, a predicament that leaves us exposed to the unforgiving elements. Our next step is clear - we must replenish our supplies.
7th of Septober, 5502
Afternoon
Coleman and Lover engaged. We’ll have to set up a spot for that.
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Evening
Mayer and McMillion got together a little while later. In a display of peculiar courtship, he regaled her with a tale, an anecdote about eating onions. McMillion loves onions.
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Today, the colony felt a little less like a bastion of survival and a bit more like a home. The bonds of love and companionship, once fragile threads, are now weaving a stronger tapestry.
Night
Today, the colony felt a little less like a bastion of survival and a bit more like a home. The bonds of love and companionship, once fragile threads, are now weaving a stronger tapestry. It is these moments, these connections, that give us the strength to face another day, to continue building something meaningful in this remote corner of existence.
9th of Septober, 5502
Ominous change in the air.
A psychic droner, an ancient and insidious device, activated somewhere out there. We gathered, pondering the source of this unseen menace.
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As we deliberated, the conversation veered towards technology far beyond the grasp of some among us. The mention of a 'sat dish' drew a puzzled reaction from Riku. His understanding of our world is still nascent, his knowledge of its machinations, rudimentary. With innocent misunderstanding, he exclaimed "Dish!" gazing at his meal, unaware of the gravity of our discussion. Yet, in his simplicity, Riku held a key – he knew of a communications array to the north, marked by the very satellite dishes we speculated about.
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Wolfgang stepped forward to volunteer for the journey alongside Riku. Their task – to silence the droner, to restore tranquility to our besieged minds. As they prepared for their expedition Wolfgang chanced upon a relic of our past – a Plasmasaw, identical to the one Lottie once wielded. How it ended up on the rack is a mystery.
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Thanks to that implement, it will not be worry that keeps me up tonight, only that damned droning.
10th of Septober, 5502
Psychic relief swept over us this morning. Wolfgang and Riku’s mission must have been successful. In celebration, I organized our annual dance party for when the two returned.
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Night
As twilight embraced our little world, music filled the air, a rhythmic beacon calling everyone to the makeshift dance floor. The younger members of our colony, buoyed by the lifting of the psychic burden, danced with a vigor that belied the hardships we endure daily. Their movements were a mix of joy and defiance, a dance in the face of adversity.
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Yet, not all shared in this youthful exuberance. Jessie and Sam, the elders of our group, contented themselves with watching from the sidelines. Their eyes held a mix of nostalgia and contentment, witnessing the younger generation finding moments of happiness in this harsh reality.
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As the night wore on, the energy of the party began to wane. The initial burst of enthusiasm gave way to a realization - our celebrations were but a temporary respite from the relentless demands of survival. The music continued to play, but the spirit of the dance seemed to falter, the movements becoming more mechanical, less inspired.
The evening drew to a close, not with a crescendo of festivity, but with a quiet, almost reflective mood. It was, by all accounts, a boring affair.
Chapter_15...|...Chapter_17