Neil only had a cudgel, partially matted with blood from breaking the acolyte's nose. The two had tumbled onto the floor, giving Neil a nasty bump on the head but otherwise causing no real problems. He had a thick skull, anyway. His opponent did not, so he lay unconscious in the room the pilot had just walked out of. As he stepped out into the corridor, lights automatically flitted on. He glanced up at the potential, visual alarm of his progress. 

"That'll cause some problems." He deadpanned, but decided he couldn't do anything about it, anyway. His vision was still a bit swimmy and his head light, the lithe scoundrel stretching his neck and rubbing it as he began to walk. He wasn't getting old, but all that time in R.I.P. space before wrestling within a normal atmosphere had weird effects on even a young human physique. Rivets of overlapping plate on the walls whistled with air as the ventilation suddenly turned on. That was surprising, considering it meant someone here could at least access some of the power, or else they had found a generator somewhere and hotwired it. 

Flipping the cudgel to ascertain its weight, he felt confident it was a good enough implement to throw if someone showed up with a gun and he needed to make a quick getaway or dive. The hall was ominous in quality, every shadow holding a cultist or some xenos subterranean species to Neil's mind. The flickering lights and the fact some did not cut on as he walked by also seemed to indicate that not all the power was evenly distributed. He could fix up the place if he had the mind to, which was more than he could say about whoever was maintaining the sleeper ship. 

Instead of running into a cultist again, however, one of the doors he passed by slid open when Neil's passage set off its sensors. A light suddenly poured into the gloom of the corridor, causing Neil to blink and shield his eyes. 

Once his eyes adjusted, he found something he truly did not expect. It was a large, relatively well cleaned chamber, Strange mutants, half man, half machine grumbled and moved about in slow gaits. Every left eye was a grafted visor and every right hand was mechanical, with their bodies a mix and matched jumble of limbs, steel, and flesh. There were only five that he could see, and none looked his way when he peered through. Upon closer inspection, they weren't maintaining power nodes like he assumed they had been. No, they were pods. Pods with infants inside of them. 

Neil squinted as he began to think, whispering to himself. 

"Am I above holding a baby hostage?"