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by Morse » Wed Jan 20, 2016 6:43 am
The call over the com was not one that Morse was expecting. He assumed that the colony would have had things listed in English, or potentially Japanese. He did not assume that Russian would be high on the list of languages to be discovered, especially at what he assumed was a company mining project. Then again, poorer nations tended to supply workers all over the place, and Russia would not have been much of an exception.
The squad mate response though was one that Morse could not have agreed with more. ”Drink’nuff you basically speak the shit.” Morse commented. ”Drink more’n you’ll write yer “R”s backwards’n everythin’.” He continued. ”My cousins been Russian fer fifteen years, he’d tell ya.”
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Morse did not think it applied to him, since he drank whiskey almost exclusively, not opting for Vodka unless he had no other alternative.
When the message was translated Morse rolled his eyes, utterly unconcerned with it. ”It’s prolly talkin’ about the colonist trash what was infestin’ this place.” He commented on the idea of the “plague.” Though never considered a politically correct individual, he remained ever blunt in his assessment of all situations, and dared the fates to say otherwise.
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