Those who chose to follow Tweak would be led down the spaceports maintenance hallway, which was little more than a few doors complementing a constantly turning hallways. Behind the first corner were more peculiar signs...miscellaneous items strewn across the floor, doors left ajar, and more overturned potted plants. There were still no signs of people, but the further they traveled down the Maintenance corridor, the more prominent the distant sound of voices and rabble grew. The small team of mechanics would not know what the noise was...until it, quite suddenly, appeared right in front of them the moment they turned their second, and final, corner.
---
Meanwhile, back in the lobby, Cassefin still stood defiant and in a semblance of patience, tapping her foot and pursing her lips. This group received little trouble, simply having to deal with Cassefin's presence for the time being. That changed, however, as a door marked "Staff Only" near the back of the room cracked open slightly with a loud series of creaks, drawing the attention of the Head Administrator and her crew.
After a second, a single large, short-blonde covered scalp and a pair of eyes peaked out from the small crevice, and a small conversation echoed from the room into the quiet, unmoving lobby.
"Uh, George?"
"Lenny! Jeez, close the door! Quick!"
"But George, I see the Admin-uh-stratrator."
"Lenny! The door dammit, close it!"
"But George, I see more people out there! In the security uniforms."
"...huh? What'd you say, move it you big palooka!"
Almost immediately, the Staff Only door immediately burst open and out tumbled three Cirrus Station Security suit-clad security members. Each of Squad 35's information visors identified these three though simple named labels.
A large ID-SOL, L. Binks, sat on his belly on the floor.
A short, loud Nepleslian, G. Resseti, had tumbled on top of his much larger counterpart.
And another that slowly exited after them, womanly in figure, C. Winters, managed to avoid the pileup.
The smaller Nepleslia quickly scrambled up and opened his visor faceplate, revealing his sharp face and extremely worried expression.
"Holy shit! Did you guys escape? We thought everyone got caught!" The security members blurted as his eyes darted around the room.
"What the hell are you talking about, Resseti?" Cassefin pronounced loudly. "Escape from what?"
"The nekos, man! They're EVERYWHERE!"
---
The maintenance corridor's 2nd turn quite suddenly ended in a large room with no door blocking its entry. At first glance, it was obvious this was the power generator room...two large generators stood parallel to each other in a large, high-ceiling room. The second thing immediately noticeable was that a large section of the ceiling had been broken in, evident by the mass of rubble amongst the floor. And sitting on that rubble...
...were a literal swarm of cat-eared women. Thirty of them, at least, had taken seated and squatted positions on the smaller bits of ceiling rubble, turning them into makeshift seats and platforms. Up near the end of the room, opposite of Squad 35, was the largest piece of broken ceiling with a single cat-eared woman occupying it.
All of them were clad in mismatched clothing, shoes, loincloths skirts and chest-bindings made from strips of ripped cloth, and, occasionally, a fully intact vest or jacket. As the team was able to take in more of the room, they would soon see why these women wore such strange clothing...the rooms walls and floors were also occupied by bound men and women, most likely the entire staff of the spaceport, and most of them were missing shirts, shoes and pants, leaving them wearing little more than their undergarments. Other than looking a bit on the exposed side, none of them appeared injured at first glance.
The sole cat-eared woman on the the last, largest platform was more identifiable than the rest, her most prominent features being an elaborate headdress made from what appeared to be kitchen-ware and string. It was also worth noting that she was substantially more voluptuous in physical appearance than her counterparts.
As the CSS members turned that corner, the entire room ceased their mindless, unidentifiable chatter and stared directly at the three sole members of Squad 35. Nothing moved, and none of them spoke. Even the prisoners lining the walls who noticed their arrival seemed too shocked to speak.
