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SD242001.09 - Duty Log - BGen Grey - "Anticlimax"

Posted on Thu Jan 9th, 2020 @ 7:08pm by Brigadier General Jonathan Grey

1,105 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: The Sincerest Form of Flattery
Location: Versailles
Timeline: Current

OOC: Here's a summary. Klingons came to Versailles, chasing saboteurs that can look like anyone. We took out the saboteurs (called Romulan Mimic Agents), but not before they damaged our power grid and threw a black hole at the station. The station took massive damage, but we were able to reach a stable orbit around the black hole. Now everything is broken, the lights are barely on, and we're a power cut away from complete destruction.

On a more personal note, Brigadier General Grey, CO of Versailles, was hit in the head by falling debris. Though he recovered enough to walk, enough assassins had plagued him recently that he seized this opportunity to place a fake body in stasis, and go undercover to smoke out the folks hiring those assassins.

Folks re-reading the previous log may also find out some interesting things about his yeoman, Lt Rogers....

And now, on with the show!


=^= Somewhere Hidden =^=

"Well," the General announced, cocking an eyebrow, "this is...anticlimactic."

The room before him was a mess. The black hole hadn't managed to damage the place, which was remarkable given how many fallen girders he'd had to step over on his way in, but it seemed that a mess had found the room regardless.

A vaguely circular table sat in the middle of the room. If you squinted and looked at a certain angle, it was almost the shape of a human skull. A xenobiologist might have been able to identify the species it was meant to be, but the only person still breathing was a marine. He had seen many heads in his time, but Grey was no biologist.

And speaking of heads...

Grey walked cautiously over to the table, pointing his gun at the shadows as he moved. Shifting the gun to one hand, the other hand reached out to the table. Gently, he touched the head of a dead man that lay slumped on the table. Rotating it this way and that, it seemed clear that this man had a hole in his head.

Now, Grey was no autopsy specialist either, but when you shoot enough folks, you get an eye for angles of attack. This one was low-angle, straight up through the head.

So either a midget assassin, or a suicide.

Twelve suicides, to be precise, he mused as he looked around at the other corpses that littered the room. The air stank of burnt flesh, and a faint haze from the weapons fire still lingered, but there was no mistaking that the affluently-clothed individuals filling every seat around this table had all taken their own lives.

"They heard you were coming."

The General spun, dropping into a low crouch and delivering a rapid burst of three rifle pulses. The rounds screamed as loudly as the bells in the General's head, his recent head injury blurring his vision and sending bolts of pain straight into his frontal lobe.

This distraction saved the life of the sneaky devil behind him; a lizard person of thin shoulders and short stature. Holding rock-still, the creature didn't even flinch as the shots flew wildly past his ears; leaving soot-marks on the dull-grey wall behind him.

"I, er, sorry." mumbled Grey, regaining his senses as the pain faded.

"They heard you were coming. For them." the creature repeated, staring at the marine that still held him at gunpoint.

"I...they shot themselves because of me? Why? I mean, I hate their ugly guts for sending assassins after me, but this thing's set to stun." Grey explained, gesturing to his rifle.

For a moment, hearing these words out of his own mouth, the marine paused. Time was he'd have mown these folks down without a second thought, including lizard-boy here.

No, he realised, interrupting his own trip down memory lane. Lizard-man. Lizard-butler, even. Possibly a servant to one of the folks that lay dead behind him.

"They knew your past." the creature rasped. "Too dangerous. Too smart. Too...evil. Such evil."

"Now say something nice about my eyes." Grey quipped, cursing under his breath. Still a serious mind with a clown's soul.

"I apologise, please continue." he offered, waiting patiently as he/she hissed softly for a moment, before resuming its speech.

"They saw you. Nice. Quiet. Po-lite. Maybe you change. Maybe not. They feared you still."

"And when word came that I was heading down here..."

"They fear. Too much fear." it murmured, shifting stance and moving towards the table. Grey watched it warily, but it seemed to have no hostile intent. A servant to the end, it looked past Grey, and stared at a figure slumped in its chair.

One slow, listless step at a time, it made its way over to the figure and reached out, closing the corpse's eyes with delecate grace.

"Fear consumed master. They felt rumble, heard screams, knew only fear."

"That was the black hole, not me. I haven't killed anyone today." Grey insisted, truthfully.

"No matter." sighed the creature, sadly stroking the hair on the corpse's head. "No matter, all over now."

"Yeah." said Grey. He looked down, and consulted a list. Twelve names, all implicated in the paper trail his yeoman had found behind the assassination attempts on him. All business owners, or wealthy for other reasons. Powerful, aligned, and possessing a deep hatred of Grey.

Except it wasn't hatred, it turned out. Fear had motivated them, evidenced by how word of his approach had driven to this.

"They must have been very afraid."

"Yesss. Much fear. Much fear." the creature repeated, its slit-shaped eyes never leaving its master.

In one motion, it took its master's weapon and pressed it to its chin.

"Wait!" shouted the marine.

"I fear too." said the lizard, shedding a single tear. "So much fear."

It squeezed the trigger.


A minute later, General Grey stepped over some rubble at the entrance to the hidden room, to find a cluster of marines waiting for him.

At their head, his yeoman stood at the ready.

"Sir, did you find them?"

"Yeah." the marine grunted in reply, slinging his rifle over his back.

"Should I notify Security to collect the prisoners?" said Lt Rogers, peering over the General's shoulder at the darkened entrance, trying to see into the gloom.

"No. Alert medical. 13 for collection. Suicide."

"Suicide, sir?"

"I'll tell you on the way up." he replied grim-faced, and walked off towards the jefferies tubes. With the lifts out of commission in this area, it'd take at east an hour to reach their destination.

Time enough to think, at least.

=^= End of Log =^=

Brigadier General Jonathan Grey
Commanding Officer
Starbase Versailles


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