PDA log · 189 words
TWINKLE: Ganzo, I don't think this is the Jubilee.
GANZO: They're us.
TWINKLE: That's me. I guess NoA wants an astronomer in the mix.
GANZO: You figure there's a sleep bay nearby?
TWINKLE: Yeah. Same as our group. It printed out some colonists and told them to make a go at it. But these poor people...
GANZO: They don't have any adaptations. Look at you, your legs are like sticks. You're starving.
TWINKLE: They can't digest the food. No angel comb to donate the enzymes. I don't see any growbeds...what are they...oh my God. Ganzo, let's go.
GANZO: Wait. Wait. We could ask for help. Maybe they've got communications, maybe they've heard from the ship.
TWINKLE: Look at the biobeds, Ganzo! Look at that!
GANZO: Yeah. I see it. It won't work long term, though. The biobeds need feedstock like anything else...why waste it making food? It'd make more sense to reprint yourself every day...unless the point was to test how long you could live on a diet of biobed meat...oh, man.
TWINKLE: You are remarkably calm about this.
GANZO: A lot of animals eat their young under stress.