| abstract
| - First, I would like to thank people from mission control for the salary cut given to Kwik. He needs those disciplinary measures to become a better person, I have started to understand. Yesterday, he tried to comfort our slightly homosexual medical officer after he became sad after watching reruns of cheesy soap operas. I am not sure if he was sad because of the soap opera's content, or because he wasted away important time of his life, but what matters is that Kwik tried to console him. Of course, he comforted him by offering one of the Hullanian prostitutes that was brought into the ship for his birthday. But at least he tried. By the way, we are on our way to Hulla I, a strangely monoclimatic tropical planet in the Hulla system, that is controlled by the Hullanian Military Commonwealth, a group of underdeveloped republics brought under the banner of a single leader, known only as "Great Infallible Leader of Us." We are going to Hulla I mainly to return the prostitutes back to their pimps, but we are free to accept any task needed to be done in the sector. Okay, we are orbiting Hulla I now. The planet is heavily studied by scientists nowadays, since it has the strange property of being made uniquely of tropical rainforests and white sand beaches, even on the poles, which is weird. Kwik greeted the girls with something that sounded like: "Tits always boob to have fine ladies like you on my ship, boob you breast go." They giggled, making their breasts inflate and deflate intermittently. I was somewhat disgusted by the show, and pointed out to Kwik that this thing of unconsciously putting the synonyms of breasts in phrases only happen in cheesy comedies, and is not realistic. He said he was just fooling around and went to the teleporter. Bawnes had a strange look on his face while looking at the girls. I'm just finishing this log before landing. The people from Hulla I are known for their hospitality and cheerfulness, and this is evident while we walk among the impoverished people's smiling faces. Their sick, rotten meaty faces were somewhat disgusting though, so we stopped looking at them and concentrated on the sky or the ground. The prostitutes giggled behind us. Some of the folks were missing legs, arms and eyes, since the poor didn't get any healthcare, they did when they could vote, since politicians had to buy votes with free healthcare treatment, but since Hulla I became part of the Military Commonwealth, only war veterans were permitted to vote, since, as a philosopher once said, "The greatest men may are those that either killed or died." The Hullanian Military Commonwealth takes this idea to the extreme, not only war veterans are the sole social class permitted vote-and, eerily, the only social class that ever gets voted into office-but their leader, the Great Infallible Leader of Us is always chosen among those that have bullets lodged in their skulls. The current one has five. The hospitality and cheerfulness even with all adversity are the most noticeable characteristic of the Hullanians, so much that their newspapers -even with all death, wars, corruption, injustices and vice that happens on a daily basis- only reports that, and circobol, -a mixture of soccer, football, paragliding and synchronised swimming- the most important sport in Hullanian culture, so much that notable congressman, Junim Menezes, gave a dramatic speech about it before being absolved of all accounts of corruption by the congress' disciplinary comitee. The only four people that bothered to watch it -among the few that even had a TV- switched to the sports channel at this. Just in time to see another point being made by the red team. Thus, while doing our best to not look at the ugly smiling faces of the natives, we walked through the slums to the "Chic Chickens Chick Bar", which was not a bar, wasn't all that chic and didn't have chickens. The atmosphere of the place wasn't all that bad, considering the heavily armed military men protecting that government-owned establishment. We led the girls to their pimp, Most Likeable Sir Girganno Forcassi, paid what we owed him and proceeded to leave. When we were almost leaving, we heard him saying: "Hey! This money's fake!" We paused for a second, the girls giggled, then Kwik started running, and I went after him, followed by navigation officer J. K. Lucer, leaving the major Lewis and ensign Jerry behind, to be machine-gunned. We managed to evade the soldiers' bullets, that only hit houses, doors, windows, trees and Hullanians for time enough for the Hyperprice to prepare the teleporter and beam us back to the ship, Kwik explained that he didn't think the Hullanians would know the difference between real and fake federation money. I think we are not welcome in this sector anymore.
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