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I'm going. I'm going!
Fear is an excellent motivator to get you through tight spaces,
and to make you forget about hurt shoulders.
Fear will also make you not care about your screwed-up compass.
Fear will make you forget about absolutely everything except
getting back outside...
...where a barren, desolate moon in the middle of nowhere is
somehow the most comforting place in the whole universe.
Ah. God. I would kiss this soil if I didn't think Earth
would get jealous.
I don't know what that was. Maybe... maybe it was nothing.
my mind playing tricks.
It would sure suck if I survived a spaceship crash only to
suffer a heart attack jumping from shadows, huh?
I'm just gonna sit here for a minute and try to catch
my breath, okay?
[Taylor is busy]
Yeah. Much better.
All right, before I go any further, let's stop and assess
things for a minute.
It looks like I've got a long hike north, in a northward direction,
before I get to that peak up north.
From here, I can see a couple more craters in my direct path --
small ones, though, nothing like the one I navigated earlier.
This probably wouldn't be the worst time to pause for a snack
before I start off again...
...if you can call rat pellets and Habitrail water a "snack."
Shoulder hurts pretty bad.
And my stupid ankle isn't doing much better. Man, I'm kind of
a mess, aren't I?
I've got this little generator. The question is, do I lug it
with me all the way to the peak?
Or I do leave it here with the caravel, and just snag it on
my return walk back to the Varia?
(Check out the optimism inherent in the idea that I'm even
gonna make it back to the Varia. Go, Taylor.)

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