James Tiberius Kirk

Incident Report Origin: J.ZHANG CB-FH Report Clearance Green
Report Subject: Dr. Lucas Jensen MB804-9188CEC
Security Feed Data attached for review 
Audit Required Y/N: N

Audit notes: Bypass all preliminary investigations. Clearance from AL.BRAY CB-HOUSE. Declaring RM field assistance to recover missing assets misappropriated by L.JENSEN. Legal has already been looped in for Reassignment Paperwork and notices to next of kin.

Risk factor: Orange. Missing assets are documented but location is unknown. Risk of contamination high. Risk of resistance high. Uncertainty about reclaiming CB property exists.

Estimated Task Length: 120 hours
 
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FW: RM Ticket#527000FH1A

Ticket has been issued to RM. Recommend Exo deployment alongside RM agent. No telling where that portal leads or if anyone will be alive on the other side. Someone should recommend RM management quietly start putting out feelers for new recruits. If the Brays want to send an agent there's no saying No, but the likelihood of Their Asset returning uncompromised is about as low as us getting back that missing tech.
 
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Field Report: JT.KIRK RM-FH1A
Timestamp: 86 hours from Departure

Portal functionality remains green. Both myself and Exo unit Blaze-5 on the ground to commence sweep of the surrounding area. Exit point appears to be a Non-CB space station. All attempts to triangulate coordinates have failed at this time. 0 Native life encountered but several displaced subjects have been identified.

Preliminary write ups on each subject attached. 

L.JENSEN's wherabouts have been determined. Interview pending; no recovery requested from HOUSE. All assets recorded below have been located but are nonfunctional. Assume preliminary asset to also be nonfunctional owing to L.JENSEN's failure to depart this station.
 
Timestamp: 97 hours from Departure

Interview concluded. Asset recovery in progress. No recommendation for followup deployment. The only discovery this place could give anyone is a new strain of Tetanus.

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Connection Lost, retrying Send....

Timestamp: 93.35 hours....

If they were back on Freehold, it'd be a little after 3AM. Jim's not sure if a few days on board this heap of junk have completely screwed up Jensen's circadian rhythm but on the off chance it hasn't his target is less apt to be awake and alert at this time of night. Jim's stepped back into his environmentally sealed suit before slipping out of the security room he's taken up shop in. A quick pause to make sure the door's and his own locks are in place before he takes off down the dimly lit corridors. Blaze is aware of his plans tonight. The Exo hasn't once been unreachable since she stepped foot on this station. Must sleep a lot less than Jim needs to.

He'd like this better if he didn't have to wear the suit but neither his nor Blaze-5's exploration attempts have ruled this place overall safe for human life. He'll be lucky enough if the route he's planned out will get him down to the bowels of the station without having to take a lengthy swim. The readouts looked promising, but there's no live feed to corroborate it. Best to be prepared for the worst. At least in this getup he can use a helm mounted torch instead of wasting use of one of his hands.

It's slow going past rooms he knows have been claimed on the first two decks, trying his utmost not to make any noise that might encourage a curious sort to come looking. Padding past large expansive rooms he hasn't poked into since his first day aboard the station that now look far less cluttered than they once did. Irrelevant to the mission. Let the Displaced make a home of this wreckage if they wish.

Soon it won't be Jim's problem what any of them do.

He passes by a small beacon Blaze-5 has left to help them map out dark sections of the station. Good. The elevator shaft she'd indicated should be right past here, its doors already pried open by some previous (and desperate) passer by. Jim secures his line before descending down into the dark. Here and there a juddering metal creak filters in through his helm but nothing shakes or heaves in complaint. Jim counts the floors off as he goes. There's a steady trickle of water leaking from the sealed off deck 7 but nothing so bad he can't secure his next line and continue down. His arms burn already thinking about coming back up if there's no alternate path.

Focus.

Someone's rewired the door panel on deck 10. Promising. Especially given the familiar looking data spike jammed into the panel. Simple enough to disable. Slow going though. Now and again Jim pauses just to listen for any signs of approach. He very much doubts Jensen got in this way. More likely the man was paranoid enough to try and cover all possible entrances to his little hideaway after he'd settled in. Once Jim's bypassed the security the door swishes open and he's moving once more. The layout of this level is an estimate at best--they've only got visibility in a few locations. Enough to get the job done but enough risk where RM's field agent creeps slowly with his torch off. The dim illegible lights of the terminal signs pierce the gloom just enough for a careful man to feel his way about.

The first possible location is empty. Signs of recent use though. Jim bites back a swear nonetheless for time wasted bypassing the security on another door lock. Here and there a few hanging wires crackle and spark. Jim keeps his distance.

He grows very still when a soft noise ekes out from behind the door he's working to open. Lucas Jensen, 47 years old. Swedish descent with family predominantly on Earth but a close sibling working exomarine biology out on Titan. The man's never had a blemish on his company record before this. Never will, once Legal is done issuing his reassignment statement to a small research outpost on Luna.

Jim's fingers are steady as he keys open the door. The safety on his pistol is off. Barely three steps into the center of the room. He kicks the gun away from the makeshift bed Jensen has made for himself. It clatters uselessly off into a dark corner. Noise. Shouting.

A shot rings out.

It echoes through the halls of deck 10 before silence swallows up the endless corridors once more. A chirp filters into Jim's helm. He keys it in.

"Target's been handled, bringing up everything I can find now. You find an airlock in your roaming around this place by chance? Also if yes, I'm going to need a hand getting the body up there." Jim doesn't spare a glance back to the makeshift bed nor any of the personal effects set up near it. He's busy grabbing up a half-empty Braytech bag and tossing in anything in the room he can recognize. Still has to do a sweep of the rest of this deck before he heads back up. Maybe he can find a better way back to the upper decks.

Something coils unpleasantly in his stomach. Jim chooses to call it frustration that HQ felt the need to doubt he could pull this off. There's less need to be careful about cleaning up when he intends to be long gone from here in a few hours. Still, Jim does his best not to leave much for prints even once blood starts to pool.

The job's so close to being done.