[@thewizardguy][@Tyki] [@Nightknight]
	"Oi, don't shove me..." Martin grumbles, before he begins to fiddle with a pda. "I have the data on me...It's in my pda" Martin  the space marine. He had most of the data stored on him..or, err, in him, as it were. Made him more valuable, and less likely to get shived to death by some xenophobic assholes. However, revealing his robotic implants too, left him with less options. Having it be on his device, which was partially true, helped absolve both issues. "It's dna locked. You need me, alive, in order to get to it....so my survival, is paramount...speaking of which..." Martin starts, before pulling out a strange looking cigar, and lighting it up. "...It's medicine. I need it to help handle stress...." Martin tells them. In reality, this was a lie. He just enjoyed it, as it was simply station grown weed. With the stress of working in such a violent and destructive place, he needed a way to unwind, and he'd be damned if anyone, space marine, energy being, or..whatever Vulga turned out to be, was, would stop him from relaxing even still.