Thebes thought for a moment. “Memnon, throw Rareth your knife. Best keep our distance to avoid spooking them.” Memnon wordlessly detached a long utility knife and it’s sheath from his breastplate. “Up high, Datius.” He crackled, chucking it in a perfect arc toward Rareth. “Athena, run circuits of the base. Make sure this isn't a diversion.” Thebes ordered next. The sniper nodded and left the shield wall to walk around the perimeter.

The transit station flashed again behind them as Nirann came in. The assembled Sim-Rothians, including the ones closely examining Rareth’s outstretched hand, instantly recoiled at the light, covering their eyes and squealing loudly. They recovered quickly though, and some of the braver individuals began shouting and pointing around Rareth to the Sacred Band and the camp. They sounded angry.

“Oh crumbs. Is Dr Dlamini alright? Yes. The simulation has been playing merry hell with our equipment. It seems divergence in source code between the Cradle and this place may be behind it... Ah, good! You’ve brought diagnostic tools and spares with you.” Dr Wetherall greeted the droid, eyeing up the carefully arranged piles of cases. He disabled the transit plate before stepping out and picking up bits from the pile.

595 addressed the droid’s other concerns. “Not yet, but the flash from the transit station is riling them up. Surely it’ll be attracting others too, we need to fix that as soon as possible.” Dr Wetherall interjected. “I think the flash is energy misuse. So not only are things coming in slightly crooked, but we’re lit up like the galaxy’s most invasive Christmas tree. Would someone help me move this stuff?”