When danny arrives the place is a mess. The women's clothing department looks like it has been ransacked, but at least he is greeted by a Mikoto that is a lot happier. She has obviously been trying on new outfits, and being hardly the folding wonder she is, she hasn't bothered cleaning up after herself.

Danny greeted Mikoto, thanking him for meeting him here.

"So, I'm gonna ask you a few questions, just to see how much you can help me with." he said half-smiling. "I get that you don't want to be a clothing folder, or some sort of waiter," he said, gesturing around at the mess, "that much is kind of obvious".

He paused, then continued, "I think it would be wonderful if you would perform your music here, and I'm sure it would excite others equally as much." he paused for a moment again, "The only problem is, without help, we can only have this place open to a few people at once... I can't make drinks, serve tables, and manage everything alone."

Danny continues with "I might see who else can help me, maybe some other civilians, if any. But for now, it would be beneficial if you'd help me out in ways besides singing, like washing dishes, or making pasta, or whatever..."

Danny ended his rant-like observations of the situation with "It's fine if you'd prefer to just do music, and that's it. But it would be a great help if you could do some work here besides concerts... otherwise you won't have much of an audience.", "What do you think?" he ended, patiently waiting for a response.

"I am artist! I am not shop assistant!" Mikoto folds her arms in defiance, seemingly not intent on helping out with the shop at all. "I want audience and stage. Not laundry or dishes."

Danny sighed, he was prepared for this, but thought she was acting quite childish, "Fine." he said, "This is opening next monday, you can perform then. And once, every monday.", he paused, asking "Fair?"

Mikoto looked at Danny in absolute shock.
"Only monday? What?" A tear glistens in her eyes. "Why you not take me serious? Only monday? I am not back alley act! Monday?"
She turns around, heading at a steady pace to the turbolifts.

Danny always tried to be friendly, but knew he couldn't expect this to work out... sometimes you just have to give up trying. He assumed she didn't understand that the fact that he was the only one working there, he probably couldn't get the place open at all... This was hopeless. He needed help from VanderBeek.

Once she left, he hadn't tried to stop her, he went to go see if he could find an office where VanderBeek worked, if not he would ask marco about it.

Jan VanderBeek is currently in the Barracks mess hall Danny. Have a nice day.

Danny thanked Marco and went to the mess hall to see what the heck he was gonna do.

Danny >>> Mess Hall

Where was he?

What the hell was going on?


Troy felt miserable as he dashed onto the recreational deck, driven by an urge he could not explain, feeling foreign in his own body.

The Polo. He was on the Marco Polo. When did he wake up?

For a moment he stopped, studying himself in the glass reflection of a closed storefront. He was naked, bruised and battered, pale. He seen enough in combat to figure out this wasn't good. He looked dead, but as he was looking at himself, so he wasn't. Was he?

Where the hell were his clothes? Why was he covered in wounds?

Patterson dashed forward, following some ancient instinct he could not explain, could not put to words. When his senses told him he was close, he paused again.

What was that buzzing sound? Where did that come from?

Reflected in the windows he saw the globe, above and behind him. A drone! He was being observed. He couldn't have that.

Why not? What the hell was wrong with him?

Lance Corporal Troy Patterson made for the window, launching the full power of his body against the armoured glass. It shattered, he fell into what was supposed to become a diner it seemed.

How did he do that? Did he even do that? He sure didn't want to. That was armoured glass. Why didn't he bleed?

The drone behind Patterson kept its distance, observing. The Corporal knew they saw him, knew he had to do something if he wanted to avoid being captured.

Why would he be captured? What did he do?

It was designed to look like a classic nineteen-sixties diner, benches and tables in bright colors, flower motives on the walls. It was empty, not in use yet. Patterson grabbed hold of a table, lifted it.

Did he just rip the bolts out of the floor? Did that entire metal plate give way?

The drone watched, transmitted its data to its operator. Patterson swung the table. It hit the metal globe fully, causing it and the table to crash to the ground. There it lay, sparks running across its outer hull, shortcircuiting. It would no longer observe.

He had to be fast now. Fast for what? Why?

Confused Troy ran to the back of the diner. Instinct drove him. What he needed was there.

From:  Medical

   Maxwell had heard the shipwide announcement of Patterson's passing.  Then, she got the call of his breaking out of the medical section.  She cycled the pump gun action to chamber a twelve gauge buckshot load, then added a round from her bandoleer to fill the six round tubular magazine.  Whatever was ahead of her, it wasn't Troy Patterson anymore.  Maxwell began to move cautiously toward the diner.

   "Miss Nieves, a little information would come in handy right about now."

"Unit zero seven, voice override permissions granted to Lieutenant Jennifer Maxwell."

The voice was broadcast directly to the chief of security as a drone joined her in front of the diner.

"This one is all yours. Give it clear commands typical for military operations and it will do what you want. If you have any hardware capable of giving you a heads up display you can link it to the drone for over-watch support. I have unit zero three incoming, eta 13 seconds. I don't have eyes inside, so your call if you want to sent unit seven in or wait for unit three."

   Maxwell hadn't grabbed any HUD gear.  It was useful, but she had known people who watched their screens instead of their sixes, to their undoing.  That was a bad habit that the LT had no intentions of picking up.

   "Miss Nieves, please retain control of the drone.  I do not have HUD gear.  Send it on ahead and tell me what you see.  Have another drone follow me in and record what happens."

   The diner was quiet, but that didn't mean anything at this point of time.  She waited for a drone report.

Before the Lieutenant was done speaking unit zero seven moved into the diner and began hunting for their naked zombie.

The front area of the diner was as regular as they came, except for a few nuts in the floor where a table had been bolted down. A table that was now in the main street area next to a shortcircuited drone.
Drone 07 slowly entered the diner, moving towards an open door in the back that lead to the rear storage area. There, it scanned the surroundings. There were empty storage shelves, an access to the diner kitchen, and two closed metal doors leading to freezer units.
One of them had the active light burning above it.

"Looks like it's in a freezer in the back of the kitchen." Micaela reported as she directed unit zero seven to continue to advance. Assuming the door wasn't too heavy, the manipulation arm on the drone should allow it access.

The freezer door turns out to be locked and barred.

From the inside.

Micaela conveyed the results to Jennifer.

"I'm locked out and none of my drones are equipped to cut through a barricaded door."

   Maxwell realized that she didn't have a good way of opening the door either.

   "Miss Nieves, how long will it take you to get a door opener drone here?"

   And maybe, Jen hoped to herself, by that time, some additional help might arrive.

Micaela kept her mic open while she talked to the ship.

"Marco, are any of the active ship repair drones equipped with a class D cutting torch? Any that we can get to the rec deck?"

All repair drones are equipped with torches, but those repair drones are designed for outer hull usage Micaela. They would not fit through the corridors required to access recreation. I'm sorry. Have a nice day.

"We might be able to help," Ascott's voice echoed through the main street of recreational. Armed to the teeth with two pistols, a Kuhkri and his SA-80X, ten marines with equal weaponry in tow, he proceeded quickly to Jennifer's position.
"Pvt. Sanders over there is a true wizard with C4. That door will be open in no time."
He made some quick gestures, and the well trained men he had with him spread out, all taking positions to cover the diner. The man he had dubbed private Sanders stayed put to his left, gameface on.

   Jen sighed.  Help had arrived.  She looked at the array of firepower available.  "Gentlemen, Troy Patterson was declared dead by the highly skilled Doctors in the medical section.  Then, something caused the dead Mister Patterson to break and I mean physically break out of quarantine.  Another example of this thing's abnormal strength is that table you passed on your way here.  Whatever that thing is in the freezer, it isn't Patterson any more.  Take no chances.  If that thing moves, light it up."

   Maxwell gestured toward the freezer door with her shotgun.  "Private Sanders, please show us your wizardry skills by making that freezer door disappear."

Sanders nodded as he removed his pack, quickly grabbed a few blocks of what looked like clay, and started working them into a string. Once he had a nice length he approached the door and molded it along the hinges and handles. He then took a step back to admire his work.
After pulling a pack from his pockets he removed three small pins, and placed one in each piece of clay.

"That should do the trick," he grinned, wiping a lock of blonde hair from his eyes. "That door should be opening as it should. Closing it again will be difficult though."

With a broad grin he handed Jennifer a small black box It had only a red button, and an on/off switch. Then he stepped back, his rifle at the ready.

   Lt. Maxwell smiled as she took the detonator.  "Thank you."

   She flipped the unit's power switch to on and waited for a moment.  "All right, people, stand ready.  Three...  Two...  One..."  Jen held her shotgun in her right hand as she pressed the red button with her left thumb.

The blast was an anti-climax.
Jennifer pressed the button, and while expecting an explosion, the claylike substance just sizzled, and created a bright flash. When the smoke cleared, the door still stood, with scorchmarks along the hinges and door handle.
Sanders stepped forward, positioning himself next to the door on the hinged side, with Ascott himself on the other side. The major held a cannister, tinted green, and pulled a small pin from it.
He nodded at Sanders and the other marines.

Sander kicked his heel against the door, not even that violently. With a loud crash it came falling forward, slamming on the steel floor. Immediately Ascott tossed the canister inside. They all closed their eyes as the flashbang went off, lighting up the freezer inside with about 10.000 lumen. As bright as the bang was, just as quickly it was dark again. Sanders stormed inside, weapon at the ready, followed by two more marines. The flashlights on their weapons quickly scanned the area.

"Well I'll be damned," the demolitions expert whistled through gritted teeth.

In the corner of the freezer the lifeless body of Cpl. Patterson rested, slumped against the wall. There was no movement, no reaction.

"Clear!"