Galactic Defence Armada Subsidiary Log 263.4:
The turn out rate of troop in the Galactic Defence Armada is astoundingly high.
I am concerned alone on that front, but the sheer fact of how we even ended up in this situation makes me realise that this is just the tip of a giant and grotesque galactic iceberg.
That being said, I don’t think I have enough time to go over what everyone knows already. At least, for the inner colonies. Besides, who the actual hell is gonna read a boring ol’ log about someone who works on a juggernaut in the middle of nowhere? Sure wouldn’t be me, let me tell you.
War truly does change a person, that’s something no-one can argue with. Whilst those brave troops go fight for our land, we’re here with our lazy lacking asses just enjoying the view. If the galaxy evaporated into nothingness, we wouldn’t even notice!..
Sorry, I’m turning this into a rant again, right? Crew keeps complaining about the standards yet we can’t do a flippin’ thing about it. Not to mention, they’re the ones who are supposed to be maintaining the ship. But as always, the job is always for someone else to do and we go ‘round in this circle for what feels like infinity.
I’m probably going to leave it here before I get any more pissed off.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Signing Out,
CPT. FESI-188
It was early morning when things began to go south.
The winds bashed violently, the engine’s rev cancelled out by an almighty roar. The heavens above them opened, and it was if this were a modern retelling of Noah’s Ark. The rain was nonstop!
Inside, the air was colder than outside. This made everything just a bit more bearable for the two humans sat in the front seats of a van. It took only a moment for one of them to speak up. “So, why exactly did we not take the hyper loop?”
The male who spoke must have been no younger than a preteen, with beady beer coloured eyes and short chocolate hair.
“Rook, it was unfortunately closed. With this kind of weather, it would be dangerous to let the overground part run.”
Rook sighed, looking up to the older man next to him. He had ashy hair with a streak of grey, plus a five o’clock shadow. His pearlescent eyes were narrowed, the crease of his forehead crinkled. He had two hands on the steering wheel as the van was thrown around the place by the battering winds. “I’m gonna have to concentrate for a moment, Rook.”
Said boy nodded, grabbing a small bag from the footwell and opening it up. He got himself out a bag of crisps, zipping the bag up and putting it back down. His fingers forced the bland packet to open with a pop, revealing brown coloured ‘crisps’. These were the closest he would ever get to eating real potatoes, and not some weird shit the mega corps had thrown into a packet then labelled as such.
Rook began munching on the softness of the snack. It lacked the distinct crunch, but instead was mushy and flavourless for the most part. All Rook could ever taste was salt, but that was enough for him.
Besides, this was a long car journey; Rook would be complaining if he had no snacks, given the fact the only stops they would make would be toilet breaks. Even those would be few and far between.
That was when a car appeared before them, speeding at triple the speed limit. More cars followed, taking up both lanes and-
There was nowhere for the two men to go.