SENJO<br/><br/>The Leftenant and the Sergeant organised the advance. I remained frozen, not moving, and of course not breathing, in the centre of the repair shop. Something about this place was talking to me. There was something here that my processors and databases and military tactical records of countless operations was not matching up. The initial reports of terrorism and the rumours of rebellion were labelled across this operation but there was no concrete data on which those labels could be solidly pinned, no transmissions from the colony that could attribute conventional hostile action at all.<br/><br/>Conventional hostile action will leave surface structure damage. It does. Always. It leaves bodies or the traces of the injured and broken equipment. If no bigger evidence it would leave spent ammunition cases. Currently nothing we were uncovering was matching the profile of a conventional armed event.<br/><br/>Concerned I opened a search file in my vast database and set it running. Unusual events, unusual weapons, non-standard tactical situations, even diseases that might strike an outpost down with something akin to mental instability. Someone had dismantled the comms arrays, whether by violence or derangement was another yet unanswered question.<br/><br/>I left the search pattern scrolling silently away and hefted my load once more. As the squad passed through the door signposted<em>"Wood Shop, Dining Hall, Hab Block,"</em>I took up a position towards the rear of the column and ahead of Private Law. I enabled my motion tracker and swung it to my right to scan through the corridor wall towards the interior of the structure. The Wood Shop was beyond this bulkhead and the Commissary beyond that. The XV-35 had an interior range of 50 metres but the readings could fog at this setting. I dialled it down to a 25 metre range and kept it observing to the right as we advanced.