Calorie packs are fine when on the walkabouts, but they suck inside. I don’t remember when we noticed the dwindling supplies, but Gable was the first to start complaining about the food. We didn’t listen until he put the auto-hammer to his temple and flicked the lever.
I suck down the last seaweed-flavored gel in his honor.
Dowd and I are huddled in the infirmary, waiting out Hanna’s tirade. Dowd’s the only one who can run the rover now and I’ve stored all the security codes in my head. Once she’s down, we’ll feed, just me and Dowd. Friends forever.
My apologies. I have been sick and am trying to catch up.