The burn was successful, so there’s that, but it’s not smooth sailing yet. I don’t want to lose an engine, or have another meltdown, so I’m slowly dialing up the acceleration. If I can get to a quarter or even third of the speed this ship was designed for, we should be able to get to Alpha Centauri in a decade or less.
Halfway deceleration is a problem for another day.
On another note, I haven’t brought anyone out of stasis yet, but I found my scientist. Michelangelo di Maria de Medici. The name sounds made up to me, but the Ark manifesto is too scrambled to verify anything, so who the fuck knows. Al wanted to call him Mike. I’m really starting to second guess recommending a book with an AI that plans revolution to, well, Al.
Anyway, this M guy has an impressive list of degrees, one of which is molecular medicine. The way I figure it, if anyone can solve this radiation shit it’s going to be that guy. But what do I know, I’m just a mechanic—ah, for fu—does everything have to start with M now?
I need… I need a cookie. Cookie starts with C, and then I’m going to make chili.
Lizzie, don’t you mean Moses chili?
Oh, fuck you, Al. Beer and God damn purple tomatoes.
The mutated ones?
You’re killing me here. Just cut the feed.
Henrik Refsnes 
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