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Castle Brush
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>>747749
>we have an injunction against killing
An injunction that would not actually prevent you from strapping bombs to their necks, set to detonate if they move, or deliberately inflicting disabling-but-survivable injuries. There's some legitimate basis for fear.
After another fifteen minutes, an armored collar with medical monitor, inertial compass, and secure tracking beacon (which broadcasts only in response to a ping), but no bomb, has been fabricated. Should it be applied to one of the soldiers, or the ponchos?
>could we maybe encourage them to fill in our local map? If we displayed a map of the limited area we have explored, they might be encouraged to draw in some of the surroundings.
Ship schematics are removed from the display. A copy of the local map is presented, then made interactive and editable. The Esperanto chatbot is formulaically outraged at the prospect of interrogation, but you assure it that failure to provide actionable intelligence will not be punished. This is simply a matter of securing a swift and uneventful departure from the field of battle for all involved, with additional privileges during internment, perhaps even immediate repatriation, extended to collaborators.
Another tiny crevice having thus been bored through the language barrier, the soldiers begin to fill in surrounding rooms, focusing on corridors and ramps large enough for your current chassis to safely traverse. This place is a gargantuan maze, with at least four more levels leading down to what seems to be a broad, uneven road paved with loose silicate particles, abutting some oxygen hydride tankage contaminated with ions of chlorine, sodium, magnesium, sulfur, calcium, potassium... everything around here is a ruined mess! Can't even give you an estimate on the total volume of the tankage, because they just arri...
oh.
They're cut off, too.
>finagle communications with their superiors
Can't sell what they haven't got.
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