The gun cutter slides smoothly into the indicated landing bay and latches into the holding locks in the floor panels, there is a brief binary exchange between the Manufactorum and Enginseer Micherwhit, (gun cutter grew member), and amber warning lights begin to pulse as the horizontally split bay doors begin to close.

As the long slit of blackness and stars narrows and disappears a vary faint hiss and sound of a distant alarm bell can just be made out but quickly becomes a loud roar of rushing air as the chamber repressurises, then suddenly silence as the air pressure stabilises and the bell stops.

”All clear to disembark,” Heskith advises, ”no threats are perceived at this time,” even so, you will notice that she keeps the engines ticking over.

Meanwhile, Jak has identified at least a score of different comms channels but hears no coms traffic and all of them are unresponsive. ’yes you can’
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 Before the main group disembark, the militant tech-forces do so, the ten-man squad fanning out to search the bay while the two cyborgs remain on-duty by the ship until an all-clear is signaled. When that happens, the guards form up around the Gun Cutter in a protective detail while Jak reports "There are multiple open signal channels on the Manufactorum, none of which are currently in-use." and disconnects from the system, heading down the ramp (with the two tech-adepts waiting for the Lady Confessor to precede them) and moves out in search of a data terminal or communications point, only the two cyborg troopers following along.

Letting Jak do his thing Harmonia waits for the assessment before making one of her own.  Then she turns at least some of her attention to the soldier types almost certainly going through the airlock first.

”This is starting to sound more like a rescue and recovery mission than assault diplomacy.  I recommend using caution and a minimum of force whenever possible, we are going to want to find people both able and willing to provide answers and the less coercion required the more useful those answers will be.”

 "Those are our orders Lady Confessor. The Engineseer Prime brought us to secure the Gun Cutter, the two Thrice-Blessed will be accompanying you and the others." replies the sergeant in charge of the squad, coming to attention while signing the cog over his chest in respect to do so, afterwards adding "Our rules of engagement for this mission are to talk first, shoot second." reassuringly.

 The two looming Classiarii on the other hand, don't say anything - they just stalk over to protect Jak as he seeks the means to interface with the Manufactorum systems. He doesn't expect to be able to link up to the command systems from here, but local information may be accessible.

To those who disembark it is obvious that this bay has not been used in a vary long time, a century perhaps, how these people know that is less obvious, the place is not excessively dirty, dusty or damaged in any way, just ubused.

Jak makes his way over to a termina neer the door to commune with the machine spirit and his guards take station to insure that he’s not interrupted.

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 Jak spends several moments once he locates an acceptable terminal, minutes invested in painstakingly anointing the station with sacred oil and intoning the canticles of access before even daring to link himself to it.

 Once he has done so - to the tinny, jaunty strains of a tune already ancient when Man first converted the stars playing from a speaker on the terminal - he spends several more minutes in contemplation before disconnecting.

 "The manufactorum is producing ablative armour plates as a priority, overriding all other concerns. The system is functioning and there are no significant alert notifications in this sector. I have not been able to discern any evidence of human communication at this juncture. We shall need to proceed onwards to locate the staff." he announces, after ordering his thoughts.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:54, Tue 04 July 2023.

While not out of the ship in the initial wave Harmonia does get bored and come out just before the mashine talking is done.

”Good, see if you can keep anyone from figuring out where we parked, but leave at least one soldier on the ship to protect the pilot if they need to leave without us.  Everyone else should head directly for the area of highest use so we can get this started.”

 "The ten-person security contingent is, in fact here to secure the Gun Cutter. Without it, we are trapped aboard the Manufactorum. Only the two Classiarii and the two Adept parties will be accompanying us." Jak advises the Confessor, echoing what the respectful guardsman earlier said - after which he motions for her to join him at the head of the party (as befits her status) as they press on into the structure, looking for indications of life - and heading, where possible towards the most core regions of the station.

A large, air tight cargo hatch gives access to the interior, and a big open holding area where unused goods might be stacked, about twenty percent of the floor space is covered in ten-foot square, sealed containers, dust lies everywhere here, smooth and pristine, the party leave fresh footprints as they move. At the fare end of the room is another air tight cargo hatch through which is a forty-meter-wide corridor running left and right, it is mostly well lit, but some of the illuminated panels that stud the ceiling have failed leaving occasional pools of darkness. A convoy of three small trucks are passing as the hatch opens, while a small, open backed skimmer in which four men are seated, passes the other way. The passage reaches for as far as the eye can see in both directions and is occupied with light vehicular traffic for the whole length.

The two misionaries stand close behind Harmonia, looking around in wonder.
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Harmonia doesn't really seem to track the significance of the construction queue, rather takes it as key information simply because it was the most important thing to tell her.

”Ahh, that was quick.
I would expect the passenger craft to be full when headed in the direction of where people concentrate, and multiple trucks required for where work is done.
We should start with the people in public gatherings, they should be more willing to cooperate and have more authority.”

 "The difficulty here being that none of these vehicles are stopping, most likely because this is not a recognised stop." Jak remarks, observing the flow of traffic for a few moments and then raising his Omnissiah's Axe, brandishing it not as a threat but as a symbol in an effort to attract the attention of a mid-sized passenger vehicle large enough - in his estimation - to carry their party of just under a dozen people.

Jak’s attempt to thumb a lift prove in vain, vehicles don’t even slow for him and drivers who catch his eye just return blank stares, there does not seem to be anything wrong with them, they are just totally disinterested. The do however swerve to avoid him if he steps out.

There seems little to distinguish the loads moving in either direction equal amounts of goods and personal seem to be moving both ways.

A small and relatively slow moving ‘vehicle’ approaches from the right, (if one has one’s back to the hanger bay), which as it gets closer seems to be a line of half a dozen people, jogging, in step, closer still and they can be identified as seven servitors, all but one carries a grey plasteel box about two foot cube, their clothing is raged an unkept and the one without a box has one arm hanging limply by its side though the other arm protrudes horizontally, palm upwards and fingers curved, as if it would be carrying a box if its arm were not broken. They trot passed in single file without a sideways glance.
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Harmonia gestures to the walking group as it approaches, signaling the escort troopers to fall in as she steps out behind the line of servitors and follows along at their speed but not bothering to try to make it look like she is moving in unison with them.

”That is as good an invitation as any I suppose.”

 Well... Actually, he was axe-ing for one.

 *Rimshot*

 Nonetheless, the lack of effective communication of his requirements to the passers-by results in Jak sampling the digital atmosphere, looking for indications of signal traffic, only to abruptly hasten after Harmonia when she takes off at a steady jog, the Explorator being followed by the two small triads of tech-adepts and the pair of guards (presumably, also the two missionaries) as he jogs to keep up, "But not dignified."

After about five minutes of jogging, the train of servitors turns sharply to the left into a side passage and continues without slowing. This passage immediately turns to the left and then adopts a gentle incline. Other servitors pass the other way, mostly on their own, but no vehicular traffic. By the time the passage levels out you have been jogging for about ten minutes, it seems to stretch out ahead indefinitely but there are a series of regularly spaced passage in the left and your ‘train’ heads down the third one of these and finally slows and stopes by a doorway. Each turning on the way has lead into a progressively smaller passage and the one you are in now is about fifteen feet wide and ten feet high, there are doorways all along and a strip of lumens at the top of the wall on both sides though some have failed leaving dark areas and in one case pitch black where they have failed on both sides at once.

The first servitor enters the room and leaves a few minutes later without it’s box, it goes to the other side of the corridor, facing back the way it came and waits while the second servitor does the same and lines up behind it.

”Hh hum  .  .  . excuse me Confessor, but we seem to have lost Pater, ” says one of the missionaries, referring to the other who is no longer with the party.
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Harmonia rolls her eyes, and sighs a little bit, then without change in demeanor or volume puts the unfortunately incompetent missionary to task.

”This is why I wanted you to stay on the ship, go find him, then come back or return to the gunship, there is no room for liabilities on this mission.”

 "There is a non-zero probability that the missing missionary has an agenda in opposition to, or not in alignment with, our own. Failing to maintain contact with our group en route is indicative of deliberate action." states, his artificially produced vocalisation lacking anything of the puffed-out breathlessness he's experiencing under his robes because who the hell jogs for ten minutes straight wearing full carapace and eighty pounds of cybernetics when there are servitors for that kind of nonsense?

 The fabrication specialist by contrast (and one of his two apprentices) do look actively out of breath, while the auspex trio seem irritatingly fresh. The two Classiarii don't even look to notice the transition from motion to stillness.

 Either way, Jak moves to a position where he can see into the delivery room the next time that a servitor from the 'train' passes into it.

The missionary departs to find his comrade and Jak passes into the small room behind the door.

On the wall opposite the door is a square hatch, just the right size to receive one of the boxes the servetors are carrying. On the wall to the right is a small opening just large enough to accommodate a metal beaker and enough room to grasp it conveniently, the beaker sits in a sludg of thick white material that has flowed down the wall below it and accumulated in a puddle that covers most of the floor. This stuff has been well trampled into the ground and path of servitor footprints leads from the door to the hatch, then to the beaker, then back out of the door.

As he watches the next servitor enters the room, places its box in to the hatch witch as obligingly opened for him, as it closes the servitor moves the beaker, drains it’s contents, replaces it and leaves the room while the beaker is refilled with the thick white fluid.

The next servitor to enter is the one with the non-functioning arm.
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Apparently no more bothered by the possibility of betrayal than the certainty of incompetence Harmonia just shrugs and steps around the last corner to look into the box room.

”We will burn that bridge if we come to it, for now we need to decide if we can gain anything from their food despenser or if we need to go back the other way.”

 "I expect that following these individuals will take us to a location of greater utility to us, although on what timescale, I could not venture to predict." Jak expresses, turning to examine the damaged servitor and - assuming not unreasonably that it will be unable to provide useful service to the Manufactorum going forward - attempting to communicate with its onboard processes through a stream of binary cant, attempting to determine what its orders are and what degree of the station map it has in its cogitators.

As the broken servitor goes through the motions of receiving it’s nutrients without actually doing so, Jak learns from it that it’s duties are to move boxes from point A to point B, receive nutrients and return to point A for another box. There is codding to make it part of a train with fourteen other servitors. The instructions have been in place an infinite length of time and cannot be altered because of the executive priority over ride. Jake can determine the route it takes between points A and B but nothing else.

Having failed to consume nutrients, the servitor leaves the room while the dispenser drops and other ration into the still full beaker which overflows and runs down the wall to join the mess on the floor. Jak finds that the dispensing mechanism dispenses one ration of nutrients to each servitor, an instruction that can not be over ridden because of the executive priority over ride.
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Idly watching the food dispenser fail Harmonia doesn't seem particularly interested in the fate of the broken one.

”Until we find another way in we might as well see where they take us, do keep an eye out for alternatives and we will take them but so far this road is all we have, one direction or the other.”

 "The system has been hard-coded to operate without any capacity for alteration at the local level. This is an extremely unusual circumstance, as demonstrated by the imminent failure-state of the damaged servitor. I have secured the local route information for the convoy however, permitting us to move at our own pace." Jak informs the confessor (and by extension, everyone else) before motioning the group onwards, following in the general wake of the procession but without needing quite their pace (allowing for a touch more dignity to be displayed) as they do so.

 Well, unless they see something more interesting en-route.

Transitioning out of the lead from the front position smoothly Harmonia joins in somewhere in the middle of the new, more cautious, advance without further comment.

With Jaks new found knowledge of there is no need to wait for the rest of the servetors to finish their routine. The route back to the main throughfare is slightly different to the way they arrived but lands them on the other side of the road without having to cross the stream of traffic, (they drive on the left side of the road here, as in the UK and Japan). Traffic is a little heavier now but still no one pays the party any more than a curios glance until they are passed by a well-dressed civilian driving a one-person conveyance who stares at them in wide eyed astonishment as he overtakes from behind

The vehicle drifts out of line then, about thirty meters away, straightens up and accelerates. A small tanker in the outside lane breaks hard when the man drifts accross in front of him and behind that, an identical tanker turns sharply to avoid running into the back of it and crosses into the line of oncoming traffic. A large, empty flatbed coming the other way swerves to avoid the tanker and hits a small, two-man vehicle in the inside lane which spins and is immediately ploughed into by a heavily loaded transporter behind it, this jack knifes into the flat bed and the tanker and the next three vehicles pile into the carnage that is now blocking both lanes on the far side of the roadway.

As vehicles slow to a halt behind the accident a small flame licks up from the centre of the wreckage but is quickly doused by a torrent of water as the fire defences kick in, soaking the whole area and drenching the party. Traffic on the nearside of the roadway continues as normal but claxons are now blaring, orange warning lights are flashing and emergency vehicles strobing in red and blue are approaching at speed from both directions.

As they watch, their train of seven servitors goes trotting passed, this time empty handed.

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