"...well, I hoped that worked," Dastravi muttered, as he put down his communicator and started making arrangements for a new Soul Backup.
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Meanwhile, Marina blushed profusely for a moment as she was complimented, but soon remembered herself. "...you sent the fleet here due to a brief communications outage caused by my staff requiring their attentions elsewhere. In my opinion, that's a gross overreaction." Marina stared directly into Irim's face, knowing that her reaction to looking at anything else would be disasterous.
"I will be blunt. There is a serial killer on the station, who is playing a game with us. With me. I didn't want to risk any chance of his escape so I had the station quarantined, I didn't want to risk the chance of collaboration so I had all communications monitored, and I didn't want to risk the Fleet's reputation so I did not inform command or my enlisted crew."
"And if I may say so, we are severely undermanned and lack the resources to even run a murder investigation right, let alone finish construction on a star fortress. The SMX are advancing. Soon enough, this station will be on the front lines. We can't afford to waste any time, and your foolish commandeering attempt has done exactly that!"
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As the small group of disgruntled 5th Fleet officers proceeded down the corridors an audible sound began to be emanating from the walls, a slow creaking sound. The sound of pressure being built up to dangerous capacity. With a final mighty creak a panel flew off the wall followed by a fountain of Hemosynthetic fluid. In quick unison other panels began to explode in streams of the corrosive fluid, quickly dissolving every creature it came in contact with.