Sedina chocolates, his only vice. Well, that an an occasional drink or two. Whomever had sent him the package, knew that. He checked the card again, the swirling text read "From your admirer. Thank you for the times to be." He wondered who it could be, maybe the girl from the noodle shop, or that one pretty girl down at the gym. Oh, or maybe even that sweet young new secretary that Surbius had hired, what was her name again, ah yes Naoko. He munched on the chocolates as he imagined going up to her and inviting her out.
A sudden stab of pain hit him in the stomach, like a cramp, or a.., oh god, he really had to go now. He waddled to the toilet as fast as he could, and almost got his pants down when his stomach released its contents. The cramps continued, and the honourable Dr. Lloyd Wyman M. D. completely missed The Anarchists biggest stunt ever.
The Anarchist was whistling to himself. "Happy feet, I got them happy feet." He had dressed in a janitors suit and was walking towards the air recycling plant, a bottle of O2 under one arm. He showed his ID to the TPG guards outside the plant and were allowed inside. He had studied the system for a long time, and he knew exactly where to go. The main feed channel for the air recycling had a valve that was used to feed fresh O2 into the system. He had a small present however. One of the more nasty inventions from the Serco-Itani ground war, DiCloetan was what could best be described as a kind of psychotropic nervegas. Like LSD on air. Rather short lived, dissipating in around an hour, it turned the inhaler into either a complete psychopath or a blubbering fool for some time. An antidote existed, and he had injected it hours ago.
He put the bottle into the valve and opened for the gas. He imagined the horrific scenes that would play out in the habitation module and chuckled. It was not really what he had been asked to do, but to create limited chaos sounded so immensely boring. He really hated the word limited. There, all done. He was going to stay inside the plant for the next few hours. Too dangerous outside now, the screams started sounding, like a serenade to the mad. He sat down, got his book from his pocket and his lunch from his small satchel. He looked at the cover, The Ranch Owners Daughter. He was a sucker for a good love story.
The messages form Remley Orbital were broken and distorted at best. The dock master had been outside with his repair crew when the air was poisoned, and so they were on independent air. The rest of the crew had no such luck, and as the psychosis spread among them, the casualties mounted. The dock master and his crew landed in their space suits, and when one of them disconnected the independent air and opened his helmet, he started going psychotic. Acting on a hunch, the dock master called to his crew to stay in the suits until they could get the scrubbers working. It was no problem to activate them, it was possible from the OPS room He asked his 2iC to take two dock hands and go activate it while he and the rest of the men were going to find and deactivate all the guns they could. After a grizzly walk through blood spattered corridors, they were able to enter the room and activate the scrubbers. In less than thirty minutes, the air was back to Sol II standard.
The dock master slowly unsuited and organised a cleanup group. The dock area was a mess, most of the personnel that had worn weapons had used them on either themselves or others. He had never seen anything like it, never. Two of his poker friends, now ex friends, were lying together. One had planted an axe in the chest of the other. He had in turn impaled his friend on a firehose and pumped CO2 into his belly, neatly inflating him like an oversized pink balloon until the innards had popped out. However, he feared that he would have a worse task ahead. He took his three most sturdy men and steadied himself for entering the living habitat. He opened the airlock and braced for the worst. A barricade was thrown across the corridor, with ten frightened women behind it wearing slings and knifes. Due to a mechanical error caused by the emergency breaking, the life support on the habitation module was disconnected on the main air recycler, and was working on the auxiliary system. The views on the telescreens and the poison detecters at the airlock had warned the women to seal off the corridor, undoubtedly saving many lives among the women and children living and working there. Exhaling heavily with relief, the dock master recognised his wife, and knew that the children would be safe too. No way that Hannah would abandon them if they were not secure.
Sooner than he wanted, the dock master found himself the not too willing master of Remley Orbital. The council that normally ran the station were all hospitalised, the TPG police force was either dead or wounded, and the only person he could ask was a council ranking pilot from Corvus that had docked due to a mechanical failure on his ship. They needed help, and they needed help fast. The Corvus pilot, Galders or something, suggested to get a group of Corvus medical personnel and police officers to the station, and within one hour they were in place. It was better than the other offers, with PA and a leaderless TGFT at war, and UIT and TPG not talking to each other. The grey uniforms of the Corvus police was now patrolling the station, something the dock master never would have believed even remotely possible just three days ago. He was considering calling a council meeting the following day to discuss the future of Remley, and he hoped that the majority of the council would be well enough at that time. After all, he was a dock master for pete's sake, not a politician.
Tohasandra Chi missed the stunt as well, but that was because she was waiting for an answer to a message she had sent to John some time ago. She had once again requested permission to see Hortan. John sent a message back to her, that he could not ask the psychologist, as he was currently hospitalised with suspected food poisoning. Chi smiled, she knew exactly what was wrong. He was not in any danger, but the drug she had put in the chocolates were very efficient in simulating botox poisoning. She sent back a request to be allowed to see Hortan as a trained psycho therapist in the absence of the doctor. It took a while before Surbius answered in person.
"You are a trained psycho therapist too?" he asked not really convinced. Chi showed him her diploma that she had received from NP along with the chocolates. It said she graduated six years ago. "Well, I guess you are better than anybody else we have now, so you go ahead. Take John along, will you?" She waited patiently until Surbius had left, and then practically ran out of her room and down to get John. Finally something was happening.
Yoda smiled. Well, in reality he stopped frowning, but that was as close as he was going to get. He needed some proof, and if the data NP had given him was true, he knew how to get it. He stayed still for a while, then turned and touched the button that summoned Azumi for an escort run. He thought briefly about calling Mystic and informing her, but disregarded it. She had enough trouble as it was with the orb and all. Besides, if he was right, it would solve itself. If he was wrong he wouldn't look like a complete idiot.
Ecka watched the reports from the Remley Orbital station with a frown. He had been letting whomever was behind this have too much to say in order to flush them out, but that was going to end now. No longer would he stand by while innocents were getting harmed. He sent a message to MiexonBionic. After that, he summoned Surbius. They had a lot of planning to do now.
