Rhett Masterson, here. He's a hard-working Cargo Technician, whose been planted on the station as an internal affairs agent, like having your Human Resources guy join the company Discord server. Ordered to kill the CMO, but I don't really feel like it just yet. Best part about being part of internal affairs in Cargo is using stolen syndicate technology to make a shit ton of cash, kind of how Edison hijacked Tesla's work to buy elephants that he could murder. Don't get to do any of that, though, because a local karate master approached me and told me a joke. They weren't good with words, so they let their fists do the talking, and doon their comedy routine had me doubled over, gasping for breath. In the end, they really did have a killer lineup. Their sidekick, a local security borg, dragged me off after accusations of being a traitor, and dumped me in front of security with all my gear intact. I would have expected the QM to come look for my body to yell at me for being dead on the job, but instead he crossed over to the other side to yell at me in person. This spectral lashing didn't last forever, because the CMO dragged me to medical for cloning, unaware of my intentions. My victim brought me back from the dead, and for my brave attempts at standing still in a refrigerator for a bit I was promored to QM, and finally able to make some money. Or I would have, if a local karate master didn't follow me into surgery. After a short duel, my arch nemesis decided that our battle of wits could never end and took my brain with them for a walk, like some kind of fleshy chia pet. At this point, I'm thinking that I was probably the wrong person for the job. The universe didn't think so, though, and they put me in the body of a more able-bodied internal affairs assistant. My new body was beaten and handcuffed, but he had a police escort onto the station, like when you drop your lunch on the floor but take it with you anyway so you can toss it out later. Explain my situation to the guard, who believes me enough to let me out of the ship's brig, which was great because a holoparasite was fighting through the side of it, like a reverse escape artist. Surprise, surprise, the karate master is here too. This time, however, I'm able to master the art of unarmed combat, by walking away and letting someone else take care of them for me. Did I mention I needed a smoke? I wander around, handcuffed, hungry and cranky, calling for a cigarette until I finall hear back from Centcomm. Apparently they now lived in fear of my body jumping technique, and asked me to jump into the body of a dead person, as soon as possible. So I did the right thing, and stepped off the shuttle like I missed the bus stop I was gonna kill myself at. You know, space is pretty great. Its cold and painful, sure, but its quiet. In those moments, I really needed a smoke, though. "Hey Space Jesus, got a cigarette?" But instead I got a really good cookie instead.