The silence of space was the only sound inside the derelict station. It was incredibly queer in craft. It had no visible signs of a life-support system at all and only had sparse few lights throughout the halls. Every aspect was clinical. The walls were bleached white with no aesthetic markings. There were no windows or even seating arrangements. The halls were simply long rectangular tubes with doors set into the steel. The docking bay the rescue crew had landed in - designed for much larger crafts - was in shambles, with a barely working umbilical tether that was limply hanging opposite the direction of the station's motion.

 Getting close, one could see a particularly odd section of the ship branched off. A large rectangular assembly with several breaks in the steel structure in some sort of pattern. The branch was nearly as long as the station itself, and had a hole directly in the center almost as wide as a one-manned fighter. Closer inspection would reveal it to be a weapon of massive scale. Energy coursed through the sides, but the structure was warped and twisted, bent in obscure places which forced to power to jump and arc uncertainly through the branch.

No markings or distinguishable identification remained anywhere. It was impossible to tell if one room was an infirmary or an armory. If the engineers entered one, they would find impossible to understand research schematics and designs, as well as blueprints written out in 1's and 0's streaming by like the Matrix on aerogel screens. The reason for the disrupted, faulty distress signal was obvious. The antennae which rested dead center the station, opposite the weapon was warped and twisted as well. The station looked like a large blocky disc. Four arms with triangular sections connecting each arm together, slanted diagonally. One whole quadrant was missing, revealing sparking electrical conduit and inwardly exploded steel plate.

Nexus still remained in the secure hangar for its own personal craft, utilizing the stations sensors to register the presence of another ships radiated heat signature, as well as several organic bodies which were disrupting the motion sensors laid throughout the station. DS9 did not require heat radiation to defuse entropy, so it remained undetected. Nexus' craft was near flight worthy, authorizing the machine to speed up the repair. But could it leave yet? The Application wing held the most important remaining items. It could not leave without them. Finishing up the repairs, it was doubtless that the engineers and medical staff would have located each wing. Not yet finding the machine however, or locating anything of value, as certain doors were sealed with bit-locked code. 1024 key encryption on a five second reset protocol meant that only force or a multi-cote quantum computer could open the doors. Nexus was one of the two.

[i][color=ed1c24]Analyzing options... Processing . . . Complete. Cataloging in order of least likely: Eliminate all organic members aboard Lazarus personally, reactivate HADoS cannon to strand organic members, Infiltrate Application division via maintenance shafts. 
WARNING: Maintenance shafts no longer filled with corrosive gas, possible station wide infestation of organics.
WARNING: Station wide self-destruct impossible, missing Ion Stabilizer. Technology at risk.
Current likely possibility: Threaten or negotiate with infiltrators to leave.
Chance of non-aggression from organics minimal. Proceeding with caution.[/color][/i]

Nexus ceased everything instantly, dropping the myriad array of tools it had been using and roughly tearing open a hatch to enter an eight foot tall shaft covered in darkness. The royal blue optic of Nexus remained as the only light source. It would take a minute or less to enter the Application division, where Nexus would downloaded the bits of development code before smashing the instruments. These sounds could be heard on the other end of the Divisions doors, which unlocked remotely minutes after that when the machine had armed itself with half-working weaponry. The machine would wait for an unfortunate person to enter and hold them hostage in an attempt to negotiate. Or so that was the plan. Organics were always tricky.