In Space No One Can Hear Your Fanaticism.
It was the entrance to the mess. Chairs were stacked on tables indicating they were asleep when whatever happened. No bodies lay in sight. The kitchen contained no body of a cook with a meat cleaver embedded in their head - not even behind the serving counter.
“No sign of panic,” Bilge said belatedly.
Kline exited the mess. A few metres further on a corridor branched off to the left.
“Crew quarters,” Bilge said.
“Be careful,” Deli said.
This is where a probe was needed. The crews' quarters were the perfect place for an anti-personnel device. Kline baulked at the branching corridor.
“Maybe I should check the rest of the base first, to see if there’s any clue to what happened,” he said.
“It’s your call,” Deli interrupted Bilge. “You’re the investigator.”