"This is the final report of Security Officer 'Goh'. Full name Goh Fugg Yusev."

"I'm not including my rank or serial number so that if by some minor miracle it gets back to Earth, what I'm about to say won't be immediately discounted by whatever paper-pushing bellend is put in charge of whitewashing the official report about the events on Citadel Station."

"The resistance aboard is about to starve to death in both a literal and figurative sense. With the only food dispenser cut off at the Security level, people were stuck with whatever was in the vending machines or squirreled away in their cubbies. When the inevitable resource panic happened it ended up killing as many people as SHODAN's suborned robots, either directly in close-quarters combat with each other or indirectly as people ran straight into the arms of a mutant or rogue Sec-Bot after a fight over a couple candy bars. As numbers dwindled we lost even more people to inattentiveness due to nutrition shortage and impulsive actions searching for real or imagined caches."

"Planetside, the 'Fabricate Only On Demand' system is a proven technique by the folks in Loss Prevention. In the rare case all the local fabricators of any given type fail - food, tools, what have you - it's a trivial matter to get replenishments by ground or air transportation. A severe, endemic shortage of critical supplies to a large number of people just hasn't happened in decades outside of the Red Zones. But we're not planetside, we're stuck out here on a space station bristling with a 'self defense array' that would blow almost any starship to pieces in the first volley. Nothing gets in or out. If SHODAN were more patient she could just let the resistance starve to death in a couple months."

"Of course we're also running out of some other trivial items like healing patches and ammunition. I'm keenly aware that people routinely use Detox patches to come down from a drug high to get to work on time or save their ass from some black-market foodstuffs. But filing for health expense reimbursement doesn't help when you have ten people in various stages of infection from SHODAN's little god-viruses. The couple med-beds still working are often inaccessible to someone who desperately needs them and they don't do squat about chronic malnutrition because technically they can't. And whatever SHODAN's cooked up, it's mutating some people unrecognizably. Anyone who develops too many tumors or organ failures from the airborne viruses ends up in a brutal cycle of getting healed, laying there recovering from the surgery, then needing another trip in the med-bed because they've developed even more symptoms just lying there breathing and in pain. This wouldn't be happening if we weren't rationing a few chip bags and sodas with no environment suits to stop reinfection."

"Fighting back is a hopeless task for the same reason. Even a crack shot of a man - which only a couple people here are - will run out of battery power long before he runs out of targets and have to switch to a weapon requiring ammunition while the nearest power charger cycles. Guess what we're running out of. That's right. Ammunition. But even more than bullets we needed grenades. A sack of grenades can give even a raw civvie a hope at survival, way more than a gun they don't know how to use. Push button, throw at scary thing, run away or hide, repeat as necessary. Precision not required. My grandmother could stand a chance against a Sec-bot if you gave her a couple EMP grenades. But when SHODAN took over she locked out the weapons fabricators so all we have are the two ready-use slots on each dispenser. Two mags does not go very far in any situation, ladies and gentlemen. Certainly not in an extended guerilla war against superior forces."

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"The kicker on it all is a lot of folks couldn't buy the patches or snacks or ammo that was available because they had no money once the e-banking system was shut off. One of the earliest hints we had that something had really gone FUBAR was the coin dispensers 'malfunctioning'. Whoever decided that payroll gets released only one week at a time and put a hard limit on the cash withdrawals, I hope there is a truly special place for you in hell. If there's one thing that defines the absurdity of this entire emergency it has to be an entire squad of Security rummaging in their pockets to come up with the Tri-Creds to buy supplies to last them just one more day. At least the sight of your executives walking around impoverished as anyone else gave the rest of us a few good laughs; right up until the lot of them decided to all hold a banquet on their fine silver plates and got slaughtered."

"I managed to dodge a patrolling cyborg and get into an Exec suite. It sure is beautiful. Slick granite everything and the best black leather furniture. Bottles of actual champagne shipped from Earth instead of the cheap synthetic rotgut we're allowed to buy. Maybe if you'd put as much thought into the rest of the station as these swank rooms SHODAN wouldn't be running the joint now? Just a thought for next time."

"Whoever owned this room left behind a Magnum they obviously never took out of the shipping case. Now I could try to be the hero, take out as many hostiles as I could and save the last round for myself. But I gotta say - this bed is the coziest I've ever snuggled into in my life, and I'm out of everything. Food, water, ammo for my rifle, medicine, battery charge, grenades, squad members, innocent people to protect, gum to chew and fucks to give. This recorder is even blinking at me because I've almost ran out of space on the disk for my last message. So instead I think I'll settle for dealing with that cyborg outside so I'm not worried about getting violently interrupted. Then I can take all this good bubbly along with a SleepAide patch or two and have a much nicer exit to this miserable existence than most of the poor folks on Citadel Station did."

"As my final will and testament I hereby designate the contents of my entire bank account to whoever uploads a film to the HoloNet of themselves sticking an Incendiary grenade and pushing the trigger button in the fat lying mouth of my --- "

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