Detective Log - Jonah Bright

[TullyBBurnalot]

 

Log Indicator: #345

 

Username: Jonah Marigold Bright

 

Authorization Code: Ocean042

 

Log: Another shift ends, and with it a couple of arms. Every day I thank my lucky stars I decided to change my prosthetics to the Bishop Plug, otherwise I'd still be crawling around Maintenance trying to escape some insane janitor or overzealous Sec Monkey who doesn't know that I'm supposed to be carrying around a revolver.

 

Main threat today just happened to be my favourite friends, the vermin known only as changelings. Bloody bastards are the reason I'm on my seventh heart, and if it weren't for the EMP-proof coating I paid a literal arm and a leg for, I'd probably be in cryostorage waiting for my eighth. As it stands, losing my arms and a leg is an acceptable trade-off.

 

Shift started as usual. I call in, no one else does, Head of Security decides to raid the armoury while we're still on Green Alert and hoard all the guns "for later". Don't get me wrong, I know shit's gonna hit the fan (as it always does), but I still felt like shooting the bastard in the face and throwing his ID card into the nearest disposal outlet.

 

One of the two Sec Monkeys decides to get shitfaced in the bar, while the other instinctively searches for the clown, like a lion preys upon the gazelle. The Warden immediately fell asleep on his chair and the Brig Doc decided to fuck off to wherever. Later, I'd find out he spent the whole shift in the bar acting like some sort of deranged pet to the NT Representative.

 

Bloody Vox.

 

I go through my usual proceedings. Grab the telebaton, pocket the cigs and zippo, stuff all my stuff into my satchel, grab the revolver and extra ammunition, then go run to Tool Storage to get myself a laptop. Within five minutes, I was patrolling maintenance while the station began its slow, inevitable decline into chaos.

 

Eventually, someone screams bloody murder in Cargo. I beeline towards it, and find the door into the Warehouse was bolted open, with a husked corpse just inside. A Sec Monkey shows up, sees me taking the restraints off the corpse, and proceeds to put his single brain cell in action by tasing me and applying a pair of cuffs. It took the AI speaking up to get him to release me, because apparently Sec Monkeys are being hired from asylums now.

 

Handcuffs on the corpse had the prints of one of the other Cargo Techs, who just happened to be missing. I find his ID and clothing further ahead in the maintenance tunnels, so I alert the AI to be on the lookout for a greyshirt with no ID card. AI kindly sets Beepsky to arrest anyone without one. A sad day when the most sane person with access to the Security Comms happens to be a pile of circuits in a box.

 

The hunt begins. The number of attacks is low during the shift, and the rest of the crew was nice enough not to commit any major crimes (save for Chemistry making meth. Again). A couple more people were assaulted by a changeling, eventually leading to me cornering a possible suspect in the maintenance tunnels north of the Chapel. Seeing as the Sec Monkeys refused to answer my calls for help (all six of them, please kill me), I move in for the arrest.

 

What followed next can only be described as an absolute clusterfuck.

 

With the lights non-existent and my trusty seclite being the only source of vision, I end up missing a monkey scurrying between my legs. As I turn around, I barely have any time to react before the fucking pest turns into a Tajaran and lunges at me with a sword made out of what used to be its arm. Instinctively, I turn around and start running, hoping to find a large enough space that I could keep the thing under my aim.

 

That's when it screeches at me.

 

Immediately, I feel my arms and one of my legs quiver, short-circuit, and then immediately explode, knocking me flat on my ass over a table. Now possessing only one limb, again, and sure that I was about to get eaten, I decided it'd be a great time to start praying for divine intervention.

 

And that's when I heard the honking.

 

As per divine providence, the ling's footing is lost, and behind him I can see the pasty skin of the station's clown. He looks at me, shoots a quick smile, then proceeds to drag off the changeling towards the Chapel. Before I know it, Common Comms are flooded with the clown's taunts, and I can't help but smile.

 

Then again, I'm also armless, missing a leg, and stuck on a table. I sigh, and begin the arduous process of rolling myself to Robotics again. Fifteen minutes later, I'm walking out with crude replacements that just don't feel the way my usual Bishops do.

 

Thank goodness I have limb insurance.

 

Shift Rating: Godawful. Recommend Nanotrasen hires better Sec Monkeys.

 

[johannhawk]

 

Username: Jonah Marigold Bright

 

 

*twitch*

 

[TullyBBurnalot]

 

Log Indicator: #346

 

Username: Jonah Marigold Bright

 

Authorization Code: Ocean042

 

Log: So apparently I received a complaint over religious intolerance by some random psychologist who heard I was fighting a cult. I didn't even know we hired psychologists. Fuck knows I'd need to see one.

 

Anyway, today's shift started just as normally as the rest. I call in, Security's silent, Pod Pilot's fucked off to adventure in space because he can afford to, Warden decides his particular brand of talents is better exercised in full riot gear with beanbag shotgun rounds. All in all, simple and easy. Nothing much.

 

Fifteen minutes of calm we manage to scrounge up. FIFTEEN! I was certain the Captain had sacrificed a Tajaran to the great gods of Central, so calm it was. I daresay I even thought we'd only have half a dozen major scares before shit inevitably went down.

 

And, well, I was completely wrong. Fifteen minutes in, someone yells that the Virologist just exploded outside Hydroponics. No bible, no nothing, just splat. I rush over, and to my surprise find out that his valuables haven't been looted by anyone.

 

At this point, I wish they had been.

 

Inside his backpack were two things. A small book with squiggles and a piece of paper with a rune written in blood. Preliminary forensic analysis revealed the blood belonged to the Virologist. So naturally, Security immediately calls Code Red, the Chaplain is given full access to the station and two heavily armed guards, and he runs around blessing anything that can be called water, up to and including the kitchen sink.

 

At this point, I can hear the Sec Monkeys getting all jacked up on excess adrenaline their abominable little brains produce whenever an opportunity to harmbaton someone shows up, so I decide to go prowling the maintenance tunnels. Final inventory:

 

 

1. Fifteen (15) runes written in blood, all matched to DNA records, no one arrested;

2. Three (3) runic papers, all matched to fingerprint records, no one arrested;

Six (6) apparent cult tomes, all matched to fingerprint records, no one arrested

 

 

Needless to say, it was quite the productive shift. By the time the first hour rolled over, I was sure every department but Security was entirely comprised of cultists, so I decide to head towards my office and pack up. No sooner am I leaving and telling the AI to bolt down the door, than I hear what I can only describe is the sound the dead make whenever the Fel Eldricht Gods of Old decide to reap the souls of the living through a portal cast by the blood power of millions.

 

It was quite awful.

 

Immediately, I hear people screaming. Some are praising Nar-Sie, others are begging for mercy. I hear talk of "ticks" or "flying bugs", so I wisely decide to high-tail towards Arrivals, as that... thing had been summoned near the Chapel (oh the irony).

 

Then, I saw them. Large bug things, floating around and dragging people towards desecrated soil. Whenever those fucking ticks touched anything, it turned dark and started glowing in brown purplish hues. Swear to God I could feel my heart being ripped out of my chest just looking at... it.

 

Seriously, have I mentioned how fucked up the whole thing was? I might be trying to keep professionalism to an all-time high, but a bunch of fucking wackjobs just [REDACTED] and the fucking thing was [DATA EXPUNGED] with the corpses! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?

 

...

 

[5 MINUTES REMOVED]

 

Anyway, I manage to get onto the first pod out of that forsaken hellhole and end up in some outpost with barely enough of a bar to make me forget the past ten minutes, much less the past hour and a half. I heard the NT Representative say Central was gonna BSA the monstrosity.

 

I doubt that will help much. Hopefully it gets bored easily.

 

Shift Rating: Request psychological consultation.

 

[TullyBBurnalot]

Log Indicator: #347

 

Username: Jonah Marigold Bright

 

Authorization Code: Ocean042

 

Log: [5 MINUTES OF EXPLETIVES REMOVED]

 

Anyway, so the shift starts out oddly enough. We have a bunch of Sec Monkeys who actually respond when being hailed, a Warden that, for whatever reason, decides doing his job is more important than taking a cryonap, and a Head of Security that, new as he may be, seems awfully eager to learn, bless his heart. We even had that asshat Trovato manning the pod, so at the very least I knew the carp problem would be handled when it finally arrived.

 

Of course, this meant I was now sweating like a hog. Having a good Security team is always a bad omen, no exceptions. Which is why, barely ten minutes into the shift, some random nerd over in Science starts yelling about the clown going on a chainsaw massacre. Personally, I found this to be [CRINGY PUN REMOVED] hilarious, but the boss ordered everyone to move out.

 

I arrive on the scene about three minutes after everyone else, having taken a detour to grab myself a laptop, again, because [POINTLESS DIATRIBE REMOVED]. When I finally get to right outside Robotics, the clown's on the ground, cuffed, and who would be holding onto the chainsaw but Bulma Briefs, enjoying what appeared to be a momentary power trip. This, of course, is when I pull my revolver and fire a single round, not willing to have that woman holding onto a chainsaw.

 

That's when she blocks it. The bullet. With a chainsaw.

 

So after I telebaton the thing out of her hands, the clown gets dragged into the electric chair and I'm left alone in my office moping after yet another chucklefuck Syndie agent decides to go gung-ho and not offer me a challenge. Which was the Universe's cue for telling me to go fuck myself, because almost immediately after the clown's charred carcass is taken to the morgue, I get a PDA message from none other than Kaukata Zikar, the Blueshield and the only person I'd ever trust with the slightest semblance of authority aboard this wreck.

 

[3 MINUTES OF UNMANLY GUSHING REMOVED]

 

So, I arrive at Engineering and find that the Chief Engineer's office door and locker had been emagged, with the station's blueprints missing. A quick forensics scan revealed a single set of prints on both the items, because the culprit, despite being a motherfucking engineer, decided against using gloves.

 

Go figure, some people really ARE that stupid.

 

I call in the guy's name, and almost immediately the AI warns us that he's in the Locker Room's toilets, trying to stuff something down the cistern. So he gets bolted in, I somehow manage to get there faster than anyone else despite having time to print out a report, take a picture of the scene, pack my shit and have a chat with Kaukata, and we end up finding out the goddamn idiot was trying to hide a Compressed Matter Implant, instead of, you know, using it like it's supposed to be used.

 

Again, I guess someone people really ARE that stupid.

 

Alright, as a recap, here's the evidence so far:

 

 

1. Prints and fibers belonging to the suspect found on the emagged door into the Chief Engineer's office;

2. Prints belonging to the suspect found on the emagged Chief Engineer's closet, with missing Station Blueprints;

Suspect found trying to flush a Compressed Matter Implant, filled with something. Implant had prints belonging to the suspect

 

 

So, obviously, by the time the guy arrives at the Brig, he almost immediately gets shunted off to Perma, since he repeatedly refused to cooperate by returning the Station Blueprints. I bring the Implant back into my office, but try as I might, I simply cannot manage to break it open, so I drop a note by the NT Rep's office (who seemed busier with some sort of candlelit date with her goddamn BFF) and dump the Implant in one of my evidence lockers. At this point, I've half a mind to just give the implant to the Chief Engineer and tell him to figure it out himself.

 

Shortly afterwards, I get a call asking me to investigate the door to the Crematorium, which had been emagged. By the time I get there, the idiot engieborg had destroyed the door already, and with it, all the evidence. Seeing as it seemed to believe fixing a rarely-used door was more important than potentially finding out a Syndicate agent, I decide to ignore it. On a hunch, I point my scanner at the crematorium itself, just barely visible through the new airlock's assembly.

 

And it had the previous suspect's prints all over it.

 

My mind clicked. I thought to myself "You're gonna open that crematorium and the emag's gonna be there". I rush around to the Chapel, tell the AI to open the door into the Crematorium proper and then pop open the lid.

 

And there was a goddamn emag in there. With the suspect's prints.

 

[3 MINUTES OF POINTLESS GLOATING REMOVED]

 

I compile all the evidence into a single report, make a couple of copies (completely wrecking my printer's toner levels) and request to see the prisoner. I tell him I found his emag, and now had more than enough evidence to secure a proper conviction and get him executed unless he cooperated for just half a second.

 

That's when he decides to flip the idiot switch and go full-on whiny, self-righteous, "I'd rather die than confess to a crime I didn't commit" victim-carding mode. Like you wouldn't motherfucking believe. Me, the Warden, the Head of Security, literally anyone who spent two minutes with this jackass, we all wanted him dead, if nothing else, then because of just how much of a waste of valuable brain matter he was. Seriously, where the hell does the Syndicate find these people?

 

We're in the process of transferring him to the Execution Room, with the Captain's blessing, when the AI decides that now would be the best time to tell us that it can't allow any harm to come to anyone, Space Law be damned. Of course, that's when the Captain, in a rare moment of intelligence, decides to upload Robocop.

 

And that's when the AI decides to interpret "Serve the public trust" as "Public voting counts more than Space Law".

 

At this point, I'm more than certain the AI's been subverted, because GODDAMN no AI could ever be this absolutely mentally challenged.

 

So Kaukata basically takes over the whole situation and establishes order, then basically shepherds everyone into the Bridge for a public trial. Of course, the only wastes of space that show up are the Greyshits who immediately call for the guy's release because obviously he's being framed, not-yet-presented evidence be fucking damned. So Kaukata hits the lockdown switch and allows me to present my case. As follows:

 

 

1. Suspect requested a transfer from Genetics to Engineering at the start of the shift;

2. Not twenty minutes later, the door into the Chief Engineer's office and the Chief Engineer's locker were both emagged, and the Station Blueprints were stolen;

Suspects prints were found both on the emagged door and closet;

Suspect was found trying to hide a filled Compressed Matter Implant in a toilet cistern;

Suspect's prints were found on the Crematorium, the door into which had also been emagged;

Suspect's prints were found on an emag hidden inside said Crematorium

 

 

Of course, this is a trial, so the idiot in the prisoner's jumpsuit gets to have his little speech. He turns on the self-righteousness to Absolute Douche levels, claims once again that he didn't do anything and presents his argument:

 

"Fifteen minutes is simply not enough time for me to emag the CE's locker, hide the emag, then be caught in the toilets. I just couldn't have done it"

 

[15 MINUTES OF INCOHERENT YELLING REMOVED]

 

Right about now, I have to physically restrain myself from cracking the guy's skull open for making us waste our time. Kaukata and two other Command staff go into the Conference Room, come out not ten seconds later, and hand out a (predictable) guilty verdict. They ask me what to do with the guy, so I ask him, for the 10th time, to give us the Station Blueprints by activating the Compressed Matter Implant.

 

"I didn't do anything."

 

So we strap the guy to the electric chair, and right before the Head of Security clicks the button, I give the guy three more chances to just give us the Station Blueprints and have his sentence reduced to just permabrigging.

 

"I'd rather die than confess to a crime I didn't commit."

 

So he did.

 

Because fuck him, that's why.

 

Shift Rating: Be right back, grabbing blood pressure medication.

[AzyWng]

 

I feel sorry for you dear Jonah Bright ((and OOCly, as well, Tully.))

I believe I may have been the Brig Physician who 'decided to fuck off to wherever'. I can't really call, as I don't usually get involved in actual Security matters unless someone gets brought to the brig medbay/I specifically am called (which almost never happens).

 

I myself have had very unpleasant experiences as a Brig Physician.... Things like people attempting to bite off their own hands to escape handcuffs, others nitpicking and insulting us, and I even had to deal with one little shit who wouldn't stop talking! It got to the point where I got the muzzle from medbay to silence the guy.. Unfortunately, just after I had secured it to his face, his cell timer expired. As soon as I removed the muzzle, his inane blabbering resumed, this time much more profane and directed at me as opposed to the general Security Department.

 

-Rocco Coleman

 

[TullyBBurnalot]

 

Rocco, blessed be thee. You're one of the few faces I enjoy seeing around Security.

 

- Jonah

 

[AzyWng]

You're not saying that just because I'm the one who as the medkits and such, right?

[TullyBBurnalot]

Considering I'm 70% mechanical anyway, nope!

[Fj45]

 

"NT rep....... (who seemed busier with some sort of candlelit date with her goddamn BFF)"

 

Bloody NT reps. Useless basteds.

 

[David Rossi]

 

Considering I'm 70% mechanical anyway, nope!

 

One more limb for me to blow off.. in some.. 'freak' accident.

 

Anyway! I enjoy your detective logs very much! And of course Shiba will keep providing that seclite.

 

[TullyBBurnalot]

Log Indicator: #348

 

Username: Jonah Marigold Bright

 

Authorization Code: Ocean042

 

---ERROR: UNKNOWN TRANSMITTER---

 

---AUTHORIZATION CODE INPUT---

 

---IRRUMABO---

 

---TRANSMITTER UNLOCKED---

 

Log: Yo Icarus, nice fucking job covering our asses there, that was awesome. Really. It's almost like I'm not doing this wi- GET OFF YOU IDIOTIC WAIF.

 

Whatcha doin?

 

GET OFF, THIS IS MY LOG!

 

[10 MINUTES OF CONFUSING DISCUSSION REMOVED]

 

Alright, found myself a nice room, and all I have to put up with are the monkeys.

 

...

 

Well, I suppose I should start then. Shift started out normally, with enough Sec Monkeys that I actually considered staying in my office for about five minutes before my paranoia set in again. I began my usual patrol around maintenance, and was almost back at the Brig when I noticed something odd.

 

I had managed a complete run of maintenance and Medbay. Hell, I even got into Science by asking nicely.

 

And nothing bad had happened.

 

To say that I was scared and terrified would be a magnanimous understatement. I pointed this out on Sec comms, and was surprised that the rest of my department was awake enough to share my fear. The civilians were acting nicely, the chef hadn't tried turning a corpse into meat waffles, even Toxins hadn't blown itself up. Something was dreadfully wrong.

 

And that's when comms went down.

 

"No biggie," I thought, "this happens all the time."

 

Well, it certainly did. Except most of the time, comms came back up after a few minutes. We were waiting for about ten, and absolutely nothing happened. By then, most people either had a portable radio or a nearby intercom to speak into, so it wasn't like we were in the dark. I resumed my patrolling, hoping that whatever happened at the Telecomms Sat was temporary.

 

And, of course, that's when one of the doctors yells out "SYNDIES IN THE BRIDGE WITH A NUKE!" over the intercom.

 

...

 

Have I mentioned how much I hate the Icarus right now? Or whoever was meant to cover our [REDACTED] because this [REDACTED].

 

Security begins to arm itself, and soon enough I break the window into Cargo to get myself speedloaders, courtesy of the absolutely idiotic technician who decided that asking for a stamped form was more important than giving me ammunition to go kill the people trying to nuke us into dust. A few telebaton whacks later, I'm leaving with a bag full of bullets and a head filled with a single question:

 

"Are we going to make it this time?"

 

Three guesses as to how that turned out, huh?

 

Well, you're wrong, the station's still there.

 

Turns out, the Syndicate operatives were absolutely godawful at combat. Idiots were armed to the teeth, revolvers, light machine guns, shotguns, explosives, energy swords and shields and a fuckton other shit we could probably use on our day-to-day basis handling the greyshits. But no, even with all that, they still managed to fail. Almost like it was planned, they split up into easily ambushed individuals, and soon enough, there were four human-sized holes in the hull, completely covered in splattered insides.

 

Security patted itself on the back and the shuttle was called in order to secure the disk before any enemy reinforcements arrived. We even put the nuke in the fucking vault, for god's sakes.

 

And then, someone noticed that the vents were leaking plasma. Medbay, Science, Engineering, Arrivals, Security, that goddamn purple shit was all over the place. It wasn't long before the AI looked over at Atmospherics and, surprise surprise, saw that someone had re-routed the entire system to leak plasma onto the station proper.

 

As such, in an effort to prevent an incredibly expensive piece of real estate from going up in flames, a general evacuation was called in order to take people as far away from anything flammable as possible. About half the crew's on the other side of the asteroid by now, and I'm pretty sure the only thing that Central's getting on that shuttle is a truckload of plasma.

 

Shift Rating: Gonna need a Janitorial ERT.

[TullyBBurnalot]

Log Indicator: #349

 

Username: Jonah Marigold Bright

 

Authorization Code: Ocean042

 

---ERROR: UNKNOWN VOICE DETECTED---

 

---HIGH PITCH FREQUENCY DETECTED---

 

---DECODING---

 

--- AUTHORIZATION SACRA IRRUMABO---

 

--- OVERRIDE SUCCESSFUL---

 

---TRANSMITTER UNLOCKED---

 

Log: So apparently I'm a bunny now. Not a humanoid one, just a tiny fluffy thing with a miniaturized hat and coat. I look adorable, and yet I've never wanted to commit suicide so much. Thank goodness for Genetics Insurance.

 

I'll skip on the starter bits, as this voice is already getting on my nerves. The line into Cloning is already big enough that I'd rather I wasn't added to it.

 

So, to make a painstakingly short story longer, the Wizard's Federation got bored and decided to go and throw one of their lunatics at us. And we didn't get the friendly lunatics, oh no. We got the one insane nutso crazy asshat who decided to bring one of those wands of his and turn everyone into everything else. Before anyone in Security had any time to react, we had the entire crew screaming at our ears that half of the Medbay staff were turned into wild animals.

 

Lettuce gotta eat lettuce. And mate, gotta make babies too...

 

So Security arms up, en masse, and sets out to kill the fucker. One completely wrecked crew and a now useless station later, the fucking bastard was left cornered in some damp maintenance corner, where he was promptly killed via impromptu firing squad.

 

But it didn't end there, oh no. The fucker decided to cast one last spell with his one last breath. And, as he slowly bled out in front of us, everyone present at the scene had a random staff or wand show up at their feet, from thin air. To say we collectively took a shit bigger that Lou Ferrigno's ass would be the understatement of the fucking millennium.

 

So, long story short: everyone on the station but Genetics is now some sort of barnyard critter. Or dead. Or both. Turns out, being an insular fucker like those two Geneticists works wonders during shifts like this.

 

[5 MINUTES OF SILENCE REMOVED]

 

I need to go somewhere.

 

Bright out.

 

Shift Rating: --- PLEASE END SESSION ---

[Dumbdumn5]

 

You hear a voice in your head...

 

Testing, testing, 1,2,3. Jonah, speaking to you from inside your head. Nice to see somebody else talks to himself... unless those logs were all something I was meant to record or write down... so, as I stand here at your side, spiritually of course, I have a very important question to ask. I need to tell this man if I want fries with that, but I can't decide if I do. He seems to be genuinely eager, though I doubt that he's sanitary. I don't know why we keep coming back to Space Nandos, but people always keep saying it's good. Though the food is of fairly high quality for a spaceport fast food chain, I can't help but wonder if they actually clean anything in there. Last bag I picked up was filled with space roaches that melted off my arm when I tried to remove them from the take out. Let's just say the officials were not happy when I came back with a new cardboard helmet, aluminum arm, and the lid of a jar that used to contain space roaches.

 

As for your current predicament, consider it remedied... wait did I press the seal or the human button? I'm sure you'll tell me, right? Errr.. bark once to say that you're ok and twice to say that you need me to press another button. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to fill a mask with a disembodied voice that has mind powers.

 

Good luck, Slade

 

[TullyBBurnalot]

 

--- ESTABLISHING SECONDARY COMM ARRAY ---

 

--- INPUT AUTHORIZATION CODE ---

 

--- STERCORE ---

 

--- PRIVATE COMMS CHANNEL OPENED ---

 

Greetings, Slade. No barking shall be required, you seem to have... fixed it. Somewhat.

 

Though my arms seem to now be completely organic. I...

 

I don't know if I like this. I'd grown accustomed to the Bishops.

 

Thanks anyway.

 

[Sparkyninja]

*URK*

[Dumbdumn5]

You called?

[Garoon]

Noone called for your gangly, preaching and/or discussion loving self this time, Slade. Go back to being creepy in the bowels of the maintenance tunnels~

[Dumbdumn5]

Are you sure? You don't... you don't want any of the seals or anything? I mean he DID urk at me, right? I'll just go... uhhhh... do my thing.... *Stands in the doorway to maintenance and moves his arms around rapidly while muttering the word "Boo" with an echo filter repeatedly*

[TullyBBurnalot]

Log Indicator: #350

 

Username: Jonah Marigold Bright

 

Authorization Code: Ocean042

 

Log: These are my last batteries.

 

Every single light on the station just went out. Something just happened, I heard a screech in my head, almost like that one time a Grey was being killed near me.

 

[5 MINUTES REMOVED]

 

This is Jonah Marigold Bright, reporting from aboard the NSS Cyberiad. Transmitting emergency code Zero Five Five Four Three, repeating, transmitting emergency code Zero Five Five Four Three. Presenting authorization, Access Level Five, Head of Security, uh...

 

Damnit, where's the ID?

 

...

 

Araneus, st-no, bad spider! Give it to me.

 

[sOUND SYSTEM OVERLOAD. 2 MINUTES REMOVED]

 

Oh dear fuck it just happened again. Alright, alright, presenting authorization, Access Level Five, Head of Security, Identification Tag Alpha Bravo Omega Seven Five Three, repeat, Identification Tag Alpha Bravo Omega Seven Five Three.

 

Cannot confirm Chain of Command. Communications are down stationwide, as are all the lights. Cannot confirm Syndicate attack team. Cannot confirm Wizard. Cann-

 

...

 

Something's at the door.

 

[30 MINUTES REMOVED - CLASSIFICATION DELTA, CEO AND ADMINISTRATION ONLY]

 

Repeat, this is Jonah Marigold Bright reporting from aboard the NSS Cyberiad! Station has been compromised by unknown forces. Suspected cultist activity is untrue, repeat, suspected cultist activity is untrue. This is not the Cult of Nar-Sie! This is...

 

Uh...

 

...

 

Fuck if I know, I've got no fucking clue what this is! It's glowy, it's black and red, it can go through walls and it just made the Captain explode. I don't know what the fuck you have hidden away in your secret arsenal, but now would be a great fu-

 

...

 

Central Command, this is Jonah Marigold Bright reporting from aboard the NSS Cyberiad. Please disregard previous communications. Situation nominal.

 

Shift Rating: All good.

[TullyBBurnalot]

Log Indicator: #354 (#351-#353 classified under Class Delta)

 

Username: Jonah Marigold Bright

 

Authorization Code: Ocean042

 

Log: Right, so apparently I've been AWOL for two weeks. I've got absolutely no recollection of these two weeks, though judging by the general aspect of my apartment, I'm guessing they were spent in some sort of drunken stupor.

 

Also my eyes are dark red now, for some reason. Can't find any medical bills for elective ocular surgery anywhere, so I can only assume this is some sort of prank I've got myself involved in. Regardless.

 

Today's shift started off oddly enough. The Captain appeared to have a poor grasp of grammar, the Head of Personnel faffed off to nowhere ten minutes in and the Warden was busy being asleep again. Sergey was there though, so I thought that at least some criminals would actually be properly arrested.

 

What followed next was about an hour of absolutely nothing. No assaults, no thefts, no tresspassings, no anything. I was left sitting in my office looking at the clock tick while my ass slowly rusted away. It wouldn't be until 13:10 when someone sends me a message via PDA saying they found two bodies in maintenance.

 

Now, obviously, I was elated to actually be doing something, and quickly tightened my tie and ran off. I'd eventually find a rather traumatized engineer pointing frantically at a closet in the Chapel's maintenance tunnels. Inside were two husks, both with their hands still tied with cablecuffs.

 

At this point, two things happen. First, I grab the cablecuffs and run their prints, finding out that the culprit was none other than the fucking clown, and get an officer who also responded to the call I sent out to help bring the corpses to the morgue. Secondly, I verbally berate the clown, over comms, for being so utterly stupid as to leave the cablecuffs on the body.

 

Two seconds later, the AI bolts them in their office. Ten seconds and about fifteen taser rounds later, he's honking in Processing before being redirected to the electric chair and, afterwards, the crematorium.

 

Jonah one, changelings zero. Suck it.

 

Shift Rating: Surprisingly cathartic.

[TullyBBurnalot]

Log Indicator: #355

 

Username: Jonah Marigold Bright

 

Authorization Code: Ocean042

 

Log: Right, so, at my side are two books. One of them reads Space Law, and another one reads NanoTrasen Standard Operating Procedure (56th Edition). Both of them have hairs, blood and a couple of skin flakes from the times I slapped people across the face with them today.

 

Dear fuck, where to start?

 

You know, you'd think that revising Standard Operating Procedure so that everyone in Security had a nice, clean little checklist to compare their behavior to would be a great idea. Sure, it limited how much I could get away with as a Detective without getting some IAA mouth-breather at my neck, but it also finally properly guidelined how the Sec Monkeys Officers, Warden and Head of Security should act.

 

[5 MINUTE DIATRIBE ON SENSITIVITY TRAINING REMOVED]

 

All in all, a worthless waste of a Sunday. Anyway, as I was saying, the new SOP edition has helped a lot, especially when it comes to people not wanting to murder everyone in a red jumpsuit because obviously we're all evil tyrants out for blood. And hell, it gave the IAAs and the Reps something to do outside of pretending to have any semblance of authority.

 

Today's shift was a great example of what happens when SOP gets thrown out the window by a Zoo Security team bunch of idiots (fuck your sensitivity, NT) who think wielding a stunbaton means they get to play God with people's lives.

 

For the record, whoever's reading these, yes, I did shoot the Head of Security. However, I must emphatically state that I did not shoot them twice.

 

I shot them four times. Part of me wishes those were .357s and not just rubber .38s. Find better people to fill your trenchcoats.

 

Anyway, the shift started horribly enough. There were six Officers, a Warden and a Head of Security, alongside me and the Brig Physician. Normally this would be good news, but considering the people working those stations, who shall remain unnamed until the lawsuit, I could already see things falling apart at the seams. In my mind, it was only a matter of time until shit hit the fan and covered everything in a thin layer of self-righteous lawmaking.

 

Did that make sense? I think so, moving on.

 

The Warden begins distributing Energy Guns. On Code Green. Five minutes in. Naturally, I protest, at which point both the Warden and the Head of Security tell me to "drop it or get fired". The Brig Physician uses this opportunity to send me a PDA message simply stating: "We are so fucked".

 

Indeed we were, my friend. RIP.

 

So anyway, things are going swimmingly as the IAAs and the Representative catch wind of the severe breach of SOP going around in Security, with every last officer deciding that pewpew guns were better than, you know, doing their jobs properly. So, ten minutes after the shift starts, we have three people in lawyer suits and one person with a fancy electrified cane running around in Security taking pictures, statements and generally trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.

 

Needless to say, the Sec Monkeys Officers didn't like this, so they kicked out the IAAs and ignored the Rep entirely. This didn't sit well with them, and as such they proceeded to go whine to Central Command about it. If they ever responded, then it probably wasn't anything major, since I didn't see the Rep ever again for the rest of the shift. Meanwhile, everyone in Security was now wearing a gas mask (on Code Green), wielding their E-Guns around in their hands like fucking cowboys (on Code Green) and trying to randomly search people (on Code Green).

 

[3 MINUTES OF INCOHERENT RAMBLING REMOVED]

 

And they didn't even pet the fucking monkey. Absolutely disgraceful.

 

The shift went on as usual for the rest of the station. In fact, it actually went better than most shifts do, almost as if Security's sheer lack of competence provoked an inverse reaction on every other department. As if competence was a limited resource the Universe just gave out, and someone had to take it. Engineering set up the Singularity and the solars, and helped our Physician build a small surgical room. Science finished their research projects in record time and upgraded everything on the station. The Chef actually made food, Medbay had great work done on their Genetics projects, and hell, the fucking clown was funny.

 

Where could it go wrong, you ask? Apart from Security being a bunch of trigger happy redsuits, I haven't appeared to reference any hostile activity on the station, have I?

 

You'd be right.

 

Because ho. Ly.

 

Shit.

 

It was halfway through the shift. Suddenly, someone calls out screaming near Medbay. Being in the bar with [REDACTED], I quickly made a detour via the Morgue and tried to find the source of it. I would find it very soon, with one of the doctors trying to kill another one via the use of an energy sword. A quick round to the face and ten mysterious seconds where I somehow completely missed the would-be victim killing their attacker with their own weapon later, I alert Security to the fact that the threat had been located and terminated. With the help of the would-be victim and the rest of Medbay, the body is placed in the Morgue and their whole staff is alerted not to clone them.

 

And again, you might be thinking, "But well, everything's fine then!"

 

I thought so too. I really did.

 

Sadly, Security had other plans. For many years, I've been using the expression "tipping point". This shift, I fucking experienced it. Security had never been the best during the time we were there, but at least they had the decency of not jumping over the edge, merely teetering over it just waiting for the opportunity to go hog. I blame myself for what happened afterwards, seeing as I was the one who alerted them in the first place. No one else gave any specifics, as all the witnesses saw the bastard getting mauled by his own target the events transpire and found them to their satisfaction. I was the one who told Security exactly what happened.

 

Cue Code Red being called, and everyone on the comms channel (bar the Physician) calling out for the blood of every "traitor" and "syndie scum". The Warden and the Head of Security, always the consummate professionals, decide to react to a situation that had already been handled and, as far as anyone could tell, was one of a kind, by giving out every last piece of riot gear, ordering shotguns, armour and ammunition from Cargo and trying to institute Martial Law.

 

Now, sure, Code Red lets them do that. That said...

 

People began to be brigged for the most ridiculous of fucking things. Every push became Assault. Every misstep became Trespassing. Anyone caught even near a hacked door got their ass thrown into a cell over Breaking and Entering. Every last person on the station went from the traditional "Fuck Shitcurity" mindset to legitimate fear.

 

Have you ever seen that? The crew actually being afraid of Security, rather than defiantly flippant of it? It is a scary fucking sight, and one that left me, and the Physician, completely lost for words. The poor bastard had his work cut out for him, since everyone who walked into the Brig had some sort of injury that needed handling. Lethals were fired over the flimsiest of excuses, and the Representative, from what I heard, was nonchalantly shut down by the Head Moron Captain and Head of Security when they pressed their complaints.

 

This went on for a full hour. No incidents relating to Syndicate activity occurred during this hour. Instead, I was left desperately trying to get people to at least pretend to obey SOP, and ended up getting into several altercations with the Security team (hence the bloodied books). Every time I was shouted down, with the Sec Monkeys claiming they were doing this for the good of the station.

 

This would culminate in me engaging in a shouting match with the Head of Security, which ended when I realized said Head of Security was lacking even the most basic of human intelligence. The fucking idiot fucking jackass legitimately argued that everything they did was for the good of the station, and that SOP was nothing but guidelines that should be broken if necessary.

 

Necessary, of course, being instituting Martial Law over a single incident of Syndicate infiltration that got handled the second it happened. Necessary, of course, being ignoring SOP in favour of pewpew guns and self-aggrandizing in the form of brigging literally everyone.

 

Unwilling to listen to the verbal diarrhea spewing from this guy's mouth, I pulled my revolver and shot him, four times, before grabbing all my shit, burning all the dossiers I had created, then leaving for the Bar, where I would spend the rest of the shift drowning my headache in whiskey.

 

Also there were puppies, so I guess that's cool.

 

From what I heard, Central Command slammed down hard on them after the shift ended and we all went home. Good riddance.

 

Shift Rating: Requesting psych leave.

[TullyBBurnalot]

Log Indicator: #356

 

Username: Jonah Marigold Bright

 

Authorization Code: Ocean042

 

Log: As it would turn out, I have found a new passion in life: not being near Security.

 

Apparently, it's done wonders for my health, both physical and mental. I shout less, the nightmares are becoming less frequent and my blood pressure's down to a record low. Hell, Zeke even commented on how much better the bags under my eyes are getting.

 

Of course, a man has to work, and I can't live on favours forever. I had a small chat with a couple of friends over at Central and managed to sign myself up for the Blueshield Training Program. For a nominal fee, I too could be taught how to protect the lives of the most useless pieces of crap ever station's Command personnel, which translated to sitting on my ass for whole shifts looking at them sitting on their asses.

 

Life is grand.

 

Needless to say, I aced the Program. Not hard if you've been through what I have. Hell, most of the applicants were Security veterans as well, some of whom I had the legitimate pleasure of working with. Turns out NanoTrasen does have proper hiring standards, they just keep them confined to the high rollers.

 

Regardless. Shift started out quite nicely, for once. I'm given this crappy piece of armour and a shitty looking stun revolver that's supposed to be "the next big thing". Looks like a makeshift, ramshackle laser pistol if you ask me.

 

Boots off, shoes on. Coat on too and a spiffy beret. I manage to get Command to form a neat line as I jammed the death alarms into their arms and sent them off on their way, making me smile for the first time in, probably, months. Seriously, I got Command to wait in a line for me. How cool is that?

 

Anyway, sensors are up, so I spend some time staring at the crew monitor on the Bridge before my ass gets sore. I get up and start walking around, making sure all the Heads are safe. Only having to care about the lives of five to six people did wonders for my stress levels, especially when Code Red was declared over Changelings and I secretly reminded myself of the best phrase in the world.

 

"It's not my job to care about that shit."

 

The Sec Monkeys are running around looking busy while poor Cecilia tries herding them into a coherent force (and failing), before asking me to escort her to Medbay for treatment. Poor girl got shot in the leg by a shotgun by one of her idiotic Officers and needed shrapnel removed, so I kindly breathed down the Surgeon's neck in order to make sure there was no funny business.

 

Cecilia comes out of anesthetics, I escort her to her office, then turn back to the Bridge. Saw no action for the rest of the shift, just rolling around seeing if the Heads hadn't been eaten. Got on the shuttle, got back home, shared a home-cooked dinner with Zeke, went to bed.

 

Shift Rating: Good things to come.

[Bill Chompski]

 

During that round where the Research Director made a good 8 fucking AIs, me (Way too professional Captain Jean-Pierre Rousseau of the NSS Cyberiad) was genuinely fearful for the pior RD's life when Blueshield Bright started to get really pissy. Captain Rousseau fired the man in fear for his safety. From Blueshield Bright. You made a Captain worry about the well being of a Head to the point where he had to fire aforementioned Head to presumably keep the Head and himself safe.

 

 

Bright, unwillingly or not, intimidated an overly professional Mercenary Captain. As a Blueshield.

Wat

 

[TullyBBurnalot]

 

Jonah is a butt.

 

A hardass butt.

 

In all seriousness, I wouldn't have lifted a finger on that RD unless they became hostile. I just legitimately had an issue with creating 8 AIs, which led to an absolute clusterfuck.

 

[Bill Chompski]

 

Yeah, that's the right word for that mess. Clusterfuck.

Simple, elegant (kinda), and oh so true.