NOTE:
This account is an on-going tale of fiction set in @EliteDangerous’ fictional universe. It is told from the perspective of young CMDR Lara Van Dijk, a space pilot who lives within. It may contain descriptions of violence and death and other exceedingly graphic content.
And some of her vulgate I’ve simply not been able to translate — whether because of its obscurity, or for reasons of obscenity, I’ve left it untranslated.
Thank you.
𝗙𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹:
𝗔𝗻 𝗘𝗹𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗗𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝗼𝘂𝘀
𝗲𝗽𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗹𝗮𝗿𝘆 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮
Log Entry 31st December 3304
[UNINTELLIGIBLE] and it’s new year eve and I am drunk. Hey I’m allowed. 4 years of flight school has earned me my first public slosh, neh? I have no date,
[TRANSLATOR’S NOTE]
Hello, I’m Willard L. Scoggins D.Litt, the working translator on CMDR Van Dijk’s memoir. Due to the unusual patois that Ms Van Dijk used in every day speech, I’ve had to take some liberties with translation. Any notes I make will henceforth be marked with 📝
The thing about near space isn’t falling into reentry, but being wiped out by space trash.
Lara was now intimately familiar with the sensation of freefall, remaining, from her perspective, motionless while the cockpit tumbled around her. Disorienting and terrifying.
Shit.
@DevinatelyDevin She snorts around her mouthful of food, swallows, then:
“Though, really, you should’ve been an actor - I mean, you didn’t have me fooled, but you were SO convincing!”
@DevinatelyDevin Lara raises an eyebrow over her slice of horrid pizza. “Wait - what all? Nobody here is immortal! People die all the time. We have an extensive cloning-based medical recovery system in place to account for certain losses. Your sister? Goddess of death? You’re putting me on...”~~