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March 31, 2014
Myra was her name. Her being the pools of molten silver on the surface that create 'duplicates' of any person or technology that comes into contact with it. She offered to free the ship from the inhospitable planet in exchange for permission to duplicate the ship and its crew.

The captain glanced away from her first officer and stared at the bottle of gel. So essentially this is our ancient primordial soup, she said. A scar was clearly visible on her cheekbone, her duplicate cells already degenerating. We may be duplicates, but you're still my crew, she said.