teens here. looking for love.
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Date: October 22nd, 2015 2:26 PM Author: puce marvelous clown office
Brother, there on the desk -- grasp the tome. Bring it close. It's the pungent perfume of the law, paged perfection flying toward you as you sweep across the span of its golden history, from cradle-birth on the outborders of empire (the world has been empty since them) through to the future flights of starlit fancy, the hull plating straining, shields glimmering against the deepest dark background emptiness, absorbing the energy, resisting, defying, engines whining internal, seeking upward to complete the maneuver -- they said at the Academy it hadn't been done since He'd completed it at Maxima but death at your door tends to bring about invention -- as the captain shouts over the battlecurrent, spittle-flecked fury, thoughts narrowed down to saving his crew, the world, the sector, the Federation, "may I proceed to fire?" you spinning round in your chair, warready, calling up the regulations through the floating holosphere at your side, attempting now to limn the depths of the law -- Clause 7.6 ... in interaction with 9.2 ... may he proceed? You ponder; weigh; scribble. You're ready. Clearing your throat, you begin.
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3024169&forum_id=2#29022270) |
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