Torin didn't have time for this. Reaching into one of his coat-pockets, he removed a short-wave vox-link that was good for transmitting within the ship itself, but was otherwise limited in its range, and looped it around his ear, reaching up to activate it.<br/><br/>"Hello, Cogboy! Pick up if you can hear me, please! My extremities need a spit-shine, and I crave your delicate and practiced skill! Respond!" He casually called out on a broad, unencrypted channel, not particularly caring who overheard, and reasoning that it was far easier to contact the Techpriest than to spend the rest of the transit searching the ship.<br/><br/>Continuing to wander in a vague direction along the ship's endless and identical corridors, he waited for a response to his message.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>