Tracking their way carefully, silently through the corridors, they keep their eyes peeled for any sort of danger. The lights continue their occasional flickering; the engineers never fully repaired them from the crash landing... but they're so deep in the ship at this point that things look relatively unscarred by the tribulations of the past few week.
About 100 meters down the main upper hallway from the computer room, they come to a dim stairwell on the left with painted lettering on the metal walls next to it:
S C A M P S
C O R E
C O R E
The group files down the stairs, which are painted with black-and-orange hazard stripes, and soon reach a dark hallway. As a group, they flip on their helmet lights, and soon notice the first signs of combat they've encountered on the ship. Muddy-green blood, still fresh, is spattered on the white-tiled floor, and a number of booted individuals have tracked it down the hallway. The ruined chassis of turrets hang dead from the walls, smoking and shattered. As the inmates continue, they find two Nemesis crewmen dead on the ground, shot in the back from what appears to be close-range; they have gauss pistols in their hands, but a quick inspection reveals that none of the rounds are spent. Their arms are beneath them, almost as if they were killed while they were trying to get up.
Continuing on, following the bright green lines painted on the floor, the REKT inmates find another corpse down the next corridor, this one lying on her back; the woman's face is contorted in an expression of rage and agony, and the body is still warm. This woman was carrying an assault rifle, and a few spent casings lie on the floor beside her. The squadmates leave her, and continue down the final stretch, towards the glass doors at the end. They soon pass more destroyed autoturrets and cameras - apparently obliterated by a combination of ballistic and plasma weaponry.
The inmates reach the glass doors, and they open jerkily with a wounded mechanized hiss.
SCAMPS lies just ahead.
Broken glass crunches under their feet as they enter the final chamber, dimly lit by red alert lights and blinking screens; the room buzzes faintly with the hum of machinery. A strange mist is in the air, just above the floor, with a sickly chemical shimmer. And there, at one side of the room, sit the four immense tubes that house SCAMPS's biocortex - towering to the ceiling far above, over ten feet wide - and shattered down the sides. SCAMPS's brain matter is pouring from the gaping holes in the glass, bleeding and oozing greenish, transparent chemical gunk. It shows signs of bullet and plasma scarring, and in some places someone has chopped at it with a sword. Much of the floor is covered in standing water - or not water, on closer inspection, but some sort of foul chemical that's poured from the now-empty tanks.
As the inmates circle around, looking at the destruction, they notice that one of the tanks is virtually untouched - the one at the back of the room. The tank is about 25% filled with brain matter, floating in the same liquid coming from the busted tanks. It has needles and wires stuffed into it at every point, though, and is basically dangling from the top of the tank. The wires in the other tanks seem to have been (for the most part) severed or pulled out from their respective tissues.
No one seems to be around... and SCAMPS certainly isn't talking.
"H-h-hello?" Saoirse calls. "Is anyone here?"
At this, a door at the back of the room slides open, and a small, portly woman peeks out. "The cryo inmates?" she whispers, looking over your faces. "Yes, it's you! You came." She steps out of the maintenance room and walks towards you, choking a little on the fumes; she's not wearing a mask or helmet. "Oh, gosh, just look at him," she moans. "It'll take me weeks to repair him." With a sad sigh, she sits down on a crate with a melancholy expression. "And everyone is gone."