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Today is Sunday, April 30th, 2017
 
Dr. Lewis Notes


Log Entry 23


Lewis: “Doc’s in! Hi Stella! Just wanted you to do a requisition for more epi-pens once we reach Aduro Defense Station. The chances of anaphylaxis is pretty goddamn low with all the protein they cram in our food, but some of the men bring out candy and vitamins from the space stations. I don’t want some dumb bastard choking to death on a fuckin peanut. Pretty excited about seeing Aduro, never been there before. I hear the Lux are a beautiful sight. Oh, and when you’re done, come grab a beer with us in the cantina! Mark is going to spill the beans on his latest conquest – an exotic dancer he picked up in Usus! Anyways, that’s all. Thanks Stella!”


Log Entry 46


Lewis: “Doc here. Stella, would you go down to the cargo hold, supply room 6E, and see if you can dig up some more stem cell growth factor and morphine. This place is a fuckin mess; 12 amputations and 26 unconscious marines. The ER is horrible. I pity the radiation victims the most. The burn victims can usually be saved by amputation, and often make a full recovery with stem cell regeneration, but there’s nothing to do with the radiation victims but pump them full of morphine. I advised the captain to seal off the stern of the ship, but he was reluctant. There’s no way he can get everyone out of there in time. We’re still missing some 30-40 workers, and more than half of them have absorbed lethal radiation levels already. I hope we get rescued soon, it’s starting to seem pretty bleak. Doc out.”


Log Entry 54


Lewis: “Just got word from the coroner – the ‘murder’ wasn’t a murder at all. Jones commited suicide. There are burn marks near the entry wound and the fragmentation of the parietal bone could only have been done from a certain angle. It seems pretty reasonable, the more you think about it. Anyway, it’s one less mouth eating up oxygen. I’ll set the funeral service for tomorrow, not that anyone’ll come.”


Log Entry 57


Lewis: “Same shit, different fucking day. 5 more suicides this morning. I need you to arrange the send-offs. Our population is getting thin, which is just as well, really, because the air isn’t gonna last. You can tell it’s all going to hell; the chefs in the cantina have started serving the prima shit because they know we’ll run out of oxygen before food! Jeez Christ! I’ve started to envy the ‘suicidals.’ Anything is better than being stuck here with your head feeling light enough to pop off. They’re not gonna come for us! They have no fuckin idea we’re out here!”


Log Entry 58


Lewis: “Stella, I’ve saved some morphine and stashed it aside. I’ll be using some of it tonight in the morgue – Walsh has earned it. There’s still enough for two, so if you... well… LD50 is 120mg, use however much you need. If you plan to stick it out, well… it’s been a pleasure working with you. Doc signing out.”

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