Lazahr paused before continuing at the new voice entering the conversation and turned to greet Ignatov, nodding his head in acknowledgement gently. 

"This member of the crew..." indicatively motioning toward Lambda as he continued, "...has had some items confiscated by a member of the engineering team for failing to complete duties on time and would like to have them returned. I was going to escort them, name: Lambda, to the armory to see if we could get them released but perhaps you are better suited to the task than I. I'd be happy to turn the situation over to you." 

"A winch and two cans on a string. You know what guys, tell me when you're done joking and I'll listen again", Ylona said, exasperated. They were discussing planetary exploration as if it was a boy stuck at the bottom of a well, not thousands of kilometers of distance that needed to be bridged. She turned to her console and just started idly plotting a few trajectories depending on how close the Captain decided they needed to go.

"We're only discussing ideas,"  Angela shrugged, lighting a cigarette.  At this point she'd stopped caring if it was against the rules, "We are dealing with a station that renders most of our technology useless so if we're diehard on exploring it: we have no choice but to look at more primitive solutions."

She smiled at the Sophon.  "All I've managed is a raw data dump.   I'm still running the decryptions on it.   It's not a matter of pride, I just have a particular instinct with machinery..."   She idly leaned against the bulkhead, letting her hand rest on the bare metal.   

The engineer felt the steady hum of the Saviour's engines, echoing the reactor core that fed them.   She felt the breaths of the life support systems, the surge of electricity through every conduit.   To her Dust enhanced senses, the ship was very much a living organism like any active machine.    It was an ability she'd had for years now, yet there was never really a way for her to put the sensation into words.    Besides, the truth would likely only scare people.

"this is no joke. well... the cans on a string part was" Mantovani replies to Ylona.

Mantovani gestured to the science officers. His expression stern.

"This plan even has their support. 

Crazy, it very well may be. But a joke, it is most certainly not. As a plan of action it is entirely feasible and, considering the importance of this station towards the purpose of this vessels mission, entirely worth considering."

He turns to Dhanyl

"Yes fine i will decrypt the thing, send it to my work station's computer."

Mantovani says whilst waving his hand in a shoo-ing motion.

With the help of The Ignatov and The Lazahr, λ was granted temporary access to the armory. The Lumeris guarding the door expressed her dislike for the 'rubbish' cluttering her armory and seemed glad to be rid of it. 

Upon entering the armory, λ quickly deemed it of little consequence. He did not understand why this grey room seemed to be so important that it needed to be locked down spatially. Surely there were better looking rooms on the ship. And if it was about killing lifeforms, λ did not see how the pieces of metal on the wall would do that. There were plenty of ways to kill lifeforms that did not involve metal. However, there was one importnat thing about the room. His samples! λ wasted no time in instructing The Human Lifeforms to assist in carrying them back to his quarters in the hold. 

Both The Lazahr and The Ignatov made many comments about his samples on the way back. λ decided that most of them were derogatory. Again, they did not seem to grasp the importance of the Yellow. Inconsequential. He had his samples back, and that was all he need. 

After working to get everything set up in it's previous spatial postion in the hold, λ finally took a moment to relax. Everything was as it should be. At least, as close as it ever got here. λ turned and began to consider where to put the new samples, the 'painting' from The Mantovani and the feather from The Mazatl. Perhaps by his prize piece? Or maybe better by the one he had found with this room? Or perhaps in a special place next to his first sample? λ became quickly engrossed in the problem, forgetting the phrases to 'thank' The Ignatov and The Lazahr.

Valorum has been silent and in thought as Skeler, Mantovani, and Ylona deliberated. Now, tapping the floor with his glaive, he firmly speaks up:

"Everything herein discussed is possible, but remains moot until we know the range of that moon's killing-field. Sisters, Brother, discerning that is now your first priority. So long as your methods do not endanger the Saviour or her crew, give me a distance and rate of drainage by whatever means you can muster. Understood?"

"Well that's pretty easy to determine,"   Skeler raised an eyebrow, "A few simple drones with some different equipment but the same power output should let us know not only the range but also possibly what exactly trigggers the field's effect.    I could have what we need assembled in an hour or two, I think."

Valorum's answer is short and curt.

"Then let it be done. The sooner we know more, the better. I do not want this station catching us off-guard."

7-4-1-N-7-3-D  was almost at its destination and had to pass through one more crew-space, the rest would be maintenance tunnels only. It had to pass the lavatories, an area often visited by the organic crew, but they ignored the drone as long as it wouldn't check the decontamination and the waste disposal systems while they are in use (Organic crew would scream at it in that cases, not that it happened anymore after the second incident marked it as a common response and by that ceased checking while the systems are used).

As it moved close to a maintenance tunnel entry by the sinks it noticed something off. A crewmember was sitting on the ground. They weren't moving? They still had an over room Temperature. 7-4-1 did not possess any medical equipment, and its reconnaissance scanners only helped so much, it didn't even know the exact species in front of it. But it was clear something wasn't right. It pondered if it should call a medic, or should just ignore the odd happening. It then decides to move closer and apply a high-complex investigation technique. The drone slides on of its arms out moving to poke the crewmember.

The journey to the armory had been a short one, with λ seeming more focused on the retreval of their samples than offering up any manner of explanation to Ignatov as to what exactly they were or why they were placed in the armory of all places begin with, but, after a brief exchange with the disgruntled Lumeris posted on the door, the three had been granted access fairly quickly after Ignatov had explained the situation. 

Opting to wait by the door with the Lumeris while λ retrieved what they were looking for, the pair exchanged plesantries for a moment but were soon interrupted by the Riftborn's return as they instructed both him and Lazahr to assist in returning them with him to his crew quarters. 

"Da, of course, friend. I shall assist you." Ignatov nodded, looking down at the samples thrusted upon him with an inqusitive brow. "But, if I may ask, ... what exactly is the Yellow?"

λ muttered something inaudible in return, and once again instructed that both he and Lazahr should follow them as they headed back to their quarters. As they walked, Ignatov tried once again to find out exactly what the Yellow was from λ, offering up some theories of his own, but they seemed quick to dismiss them. They? He? ... Did Riftborn even assign gender to their species? Ignatov made a mental note to research this or enquire with λ later as they finally arrived back at the crew quarters.

"Well, comrade, hopefully in future you will refrain from doing anything to get these confiscated again, da?" he grinned. "It has been a pleasure to be of service. Though..." he paused a moment and looked about the area. "I wonder where our Hissho friend has run off to...".

It took a few minutes for the painkillers to begin working, but he nearly sobbed in relief when his agony began to subside into a dull background throb again. It wasn't gone entirely, but it was the best he was going to get with just the standard dosage. Between the flexibility required for his observances, and the strain from the stance he'd reflexively taken when Lambda surprised him, it was no surprise his body was letting him know he'd pushed it too far.

He wasn't young anymore, and the pirates who'd pulled him from the Akagi hadn't set his leg entirely right, either. Given how many places his femur and tibia had been broken in, it was a miracle he could even walk.

Mazatl stirred from his thoughts when something tentatively poked his side, and turned his head to regard the drone that had one metallic arm extended towards him.

"What? I'm not in your way, am I?"

The Crewman was alive and they didn't appear to be close to a shutdown. The Sphere of a robot turns slightly to face if one recognizes the array of dotted blue lights as this robots face, the ground, which could be interpreted as a bow of sorts. The arm swiftly retracts and as the opening for it closes it almost looked as if the drones frame never had an opening there.

"Negatory. This Unit wasn't sure about your physical status. It apologizes for possible interruption. Is there any way this Unit can serve?"

As the trio stood in the crew quarters, a noise from the nearby washroom drew Ignatov's attention. Were those voices he'd heard? Pardoning himself a moment, Ignatov moved to the washroom door a moment and knocked, waiting a beat before headed inside. "O Bozhe ..." was all he could manage as he took in the sight before him.

Ignoring what at a quick glance appeared to be some kind of medication bottle placed by the faucet, Ignatov moved quickly over to the Hissho on the ground and squatted down just beside the bot. "Are you alright, comrade Mazatl?" he enquired, his voice calm, as he looked the Hissho over. "Do you require medical attention?"

Pausing from his examination a moment, Ignatov turned his attention to the spherical drone beside him and added, "And did you find him like this, drone?"

"Almost identical. They did have their head turned differently and eyes closed."

7-4-1-N-7-3-D moved back from the entered crewmen. It could barely handle a conversation with one and make sure it acts properly, now two of those unpredictable organics looked at it. Tainted wished it didn't poke that one, it could already be charging and processing new data-logs.

Raisings its altitude, now being face to face with Ignatov, it does a full 360 rotation followed by a simple query :
"No structural damages noticed in this section of the ship, is this Unit needed for further assistance?"

"There's nothing wrong with me that you can fix," Mazatl said simply.

Where was his mask? He felt a brief surge of panic as he groped for it on the slick tile, and then his fingers closed around the lacquered metal just as Steward Ignatov poked his head into the room. Mazatl covered his face as quickly as he could, making sure to double check all the seals before he looked up to acknowledge Ignatov's question. The man's expression, if he had to guess, was something like concern; humans were typically easy to read, with their uncovered faces and tendency to broadcast whatever they were thinking.

"No, I'm fine," he said. "It's just an old injury; nothing to worry about."

Ignatov took a moment to study the Hissho one last time before raising back to his feet, "Right." he muttered as he shot the medication bottle a quick look. He couldn't quite make out the entirety of it without picking it up which, he felt, would aggravate the warrior, but at a glance it appeared to be painkillers. What would an aging Hissho be doing with those?

He took a step back so as to allow both Mazatl and the drone room to breath and, in the Hissho's case, get back to his feet. "Should you require any further medication-" he began, taking a moment to gesture to the bottle. "-I am sure something could be arranged with our on board physician, comrade Mazatl. Anything we do not have available I may be able to acquire through my channels. Do you require assistance getting back to your feet?"

Ignatov waited a moment and extended out a hand, trying to meet Mazatl's gaze as he did so.

"Yes, please." Mazatl swallowed his pride and allowed Ignatov to pull him to his feet, painfully aware from his prior commentary that the human had taken note of the bottle of opiates sitting on the rim of the sink. Thankfully, the pills were doing their job; even when he put his weight back on his injured leg, the pain felt washed out and blurry around the edges. It was probably inevitable that someone would discover clues about his past; Mazatl wished that disclosure had been limited to the medical staff, but it was pointless worrying about it now.

As soon as Ignatov released his hand, Mazatl snatched the bottle up, intending to conceal it in his off-duty clothes before either the human or the curious drone could ask further prying questions about it. His thumb fell across the empty space where the cap should be, and he remembered the hollow plastic noise of it skittering away across the floor. That could be a problem.

"Ah, I actually could use some help for a moment..."