Personal Log. Chief of Security, Fran Rumson. 03.29.3001
1st Mate Beck scares the hell out of me.
There were guys just like him back in the war, always thinking with their vaporizers and not their heads. To men like Beck there isn't anything that couldn't be solved with a big gun and a little carnage. It's because of guys like him that my squadron flew blindly into an Arcadian trap. It's because of guys like him that I spent three months on an Arcadian prison cruiser, beaten and tortured. It's because of guys like him that I now have a prosthetic testicle and scar tissue all along my urethra.
Should we engage in any combat on this mission, I'm using him as a human shield. On the chance that we find ourselves stranded on a planet without food or water, he's the first one I'm grilling up for some Beck burgers. If I'm stuck in the cold expanse of space, I'm crawling into his gutted carcass for warmth until help arrives.
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