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SD241901.13 - Duty Log - CO - "Unpopular"

Posted on Sun Jan 13th, 2019 @ 4:35pm by Brigadier General Jonathan Grey

1,368 words; about a 7 minute read

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

=^= Commanding Officer's Office =^=

"Computer, power down the dome."

"Affirmative."

Grey stood up from his desk and stretched as the technologies that made his armoured dome function were disabled for the night, entering power saving mode.

The desk in front of him dropped quickly into the floor, the various padd-holders retracting and sealing into a single, unbroken black surface that sat flush with the rest of the glossy black floor. The chair behind him did the same, collapsing and compressing into a single cube that sunk into the ground.

In the middle of the room, the large, circular oaken table became one with the floor as well. The biggest and slowest item of furniture to retract, the table's disappearance left the massive dome completely empty, save for the General watching the display.

Once the furniture had been secured, the dome itself powered down the holo-projectors for the night. Though it normally showed a steller view of the space outside, as if it were atop the station rather than buried deep inside of it, the General had been changing the settings. Now it showed water and fish swimming past, as if the dome were submerged in the world's biggest fish tank.

Square by square, the view vanished. Some sections were empty water, implausibly clean and blue. Others held schools of silvery fish, chased across the wall of the dome by the power-down, before vanishing with a flash. Even the loners had to bite the bullet eventually, like the stingray hovering around behind the General, or the shark circling the very top of the dome.

In the end, only a single shaft of light remained, illuminating the very center of the ring of oak in the floor, the former central table. Taking a breath, Grey walked towards it and stood in the middle. As his guests had learned, this technology was triggered by proximity, and a blue field enveloped him.

A shift in gravity could be felt in his stomach as the field lifted him into the air, and a series of thick doors slid open beneath his feet. As he descended into the gap, more doors opened in turn; irises, sliding doors, and a series of variously-coloured energy fields.

One of the energy fields was purple, and crackled with malicious power. Another was as blue as the faux-aquarium he'd just left, and yet another glared a brilliant gold, making him wince.

The doors opened faster and faster as he passed through the layers of thick armor that protected his office on all sides. Bars retracted and shutters opened. Liquid metal softened and coursed around him. Plus, some thick surfaces retracted as well, almost certainly loaded with contact explosives, ball-bearings, plasma charges, anti-matter lines, and any number of awful devices designed to make an intruder's life the most intensely miserable hell modern technology could devise.

Briefly.

As an unpleasant smile flickered over his lips at this thought, the last door (a rolling vault-like door) moved out of his way, and he began the final descent into his reception room. Circular, with bulbous protrusions on the wall, the shape of the room was interrupted only by guest chairs around the edge near the door, and a small desk for his receptionist.

Well, his "receptionist" was actually nonexistant. You didn't need extensive training to tell people to sit down and take a number, and his Yeoman was far to busy to be chained to a desk, so the position itself was handled by his crew of marine bodyguards. They rotated the desk spot between themselves, with the rest fighting boredom.

Guard duty was tedious for the most part, but the black marks on the wall behind them paid tribute to that time an unhappy civilian had snuck a compressed tetryon beam weapon in and started taking pot-shots.

The light charring around the door gave a clear mental image of what had happened to the attacker in short order.

"General." said one of the marines, noticing the blue forcefield come on in the center of the room. Within it, Grey saluted the men as he descended the last few feet, and touched down upon the circle in the middle of the room. The group saluted him back, and the four marines spread out around him as the forcefield went down.

"Alright, off to bed. Have my quarters been swept like I asked?" inquired the general, muffling a tired yawn with one hand as he blinked his eyes to keep them open.

"Yes sir, swept and cleared." replied the Sergeant leading the team. The man took up position by the General's right hand as the team moved out; leading the General out of his reception room and through Ops towards the turbolift. Yet more thick doors closed behind them as they entered Ops, locking things down for the night.

"And?"

"Three antipersonnel mines, one graviton-based implosion device, fourteen bugs of varying descriptions, and a midget hiding behind the light fitting with some garrot wire."

"...a midget."

"Yes sir."

The General sighed, trying to stay positive where the Ops personnel could see him. "Do we know how they keep getting into my quarters?"

"Yes, sir. We're sure of it this time."

"You were sure last time Greg."

"Yes sir."

"I was awakened by poison darts. Nogatch Hemlock, liquid form."

"Yes sir."

"I'd be dead if I didn't have an armoured blanket."

"Yes sir."

"And the day before, with the contortionist."

"Yes sir." Sergeant Gregory Clots replied, thumbing the button for the turbolift. Behind them, the holograhic table at the center of ops had finally been calibrated properly, and gave the marines a backdrop of bright lights, indicating shop positions throughout the sector.

After a moment, the turbolift arrived, and the group stepped in.

"Maybe I should just start sleeping in my office." Grey mused as the door closed. "Never let anyone inside, and pass orders via written notes to the butler. Like an insane baroness."

*mumble mumble mumble* came a sound from the marines behind the General.

*snrk* replied the other, his face a picture of duty and seriousness.

"What was that?" Grey asked over his shoulder.

"Turbolift's almost reached it's destination, sir."

"Mmm." replied Grey, feeling a moment of insecurity.

This was cured when the door opened and the world went white.

...

*thud*

...

"...down! Fat Man is down!" shouted a marine, whom Grey could barely hear over the incessant ringing in his ears.

"Who are you calling fat. It's muscle dammit." Grey said to himself, realising he was lying face-up on the carpet. He struggled to get his arms under him to sit up, only to hit the ground again when a marine pushed him to the floor.

"Stay down sir. Door's jammed and we need to stay low."

"Jammed? What happened?" the General demanded, vexed.

"Flash bomb and one assailant sir. Burst in after the flash and tried to stab you."

"...I don't feel stabbed." the General replied, eventually. "I do feel like I got smacked in the face though."

"Yes sir. Sergeant Clots and Corporal Rogers tackled him before he could reach you, and he managed to get a boot in at head height. Flexible bugger, sir."

"That he was. Any casualties?"

"Rogers got slashed over his low-profile armour. Cloth damage, barely a scrape on the metal. We've got another team sweeping the route."

The General risked raising his head slightly, and saw that the other three members of his close protection team were holding position outside the lift. The last man was in the lift with him.

"Any more surprises along the route?"

"Four more attackers."

"And?"

"Two tripwires, a few stun mines, a group of conspicuous youths with knives, and one phaser rifle tucked into a wall and set to blow on a timer. We called EOD and they disarmed it, sir."

"Kai on a bike." swore the General.

"Yes sir."

*sigh* "I don't think I'm reaching my quarters here. Besides, someone'd probably just blow me up at 4am."

"Yes sir."

"I'm going back to my office and sleeping on the floor. Grab me a bedroll, would you?"

"Yes sir."

"And be sure to check it for scorpions."

"Yes sir."


=^= End of Log =^=

Brigadier General Jonathan Grey
Commanding Officer
Starbase Versailles

 

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