'It is intimidating, which is why I'm going to be trying to keep her calm while I explain the situation. Just try to not make any sudden movements or say anything out of the blue.'

He grumbles, but it doesn't feel strange to hand a non-combat situation off to someone else. That feels normal, and that helps him tolerate it.

And feeling acceptance the clone trooper is radiating, the ghost will go ahead prompt the pod to begin the patient discharge process.

The stasis pod hisses and slowly opens. The girl within yawns and slowly awakens, brushing her hair (pink?) out of her eyes and stretching as though awakening from a restful sleep. 

"Huh? Who're you? Where's papa?" 

Not the strangest color he's seen.

After a moment to grapple with the voice synthesizer, the loud speakers crackle to life, then the surprisingly gentle voice of a young man speaks. "My name's Imre, and the one in my cockpit is Xeno. We got called in by the facility to help, and now that we handled the intruder we're here to get you out of here. I don't know where your papa is, he wasn't here when we got here. Maybe you can help us look for him?"

He wonders whether the name the ghost gave is something he just made up, or something else he somehow knows. Either way, he'll consider it the ghost's acting designation until it contradicts itself.

When Imre mentions him being in the cockpit, he has the urge to indicate his presence somehow, but he was directed to not speak up or make any sudden moves, so he'll just slowly wave the mecha's free manipulator-wielding arm, a motion that comes naturally but still has a feeling of incorrectness, somehow.

He's a little confused by Imre saying that the facility 'called them in,' or of a time when they 'got here,' given how they just got created a moment ago in another one of the pods. Maybe it felt more like appearing here from somewhere else because of how Imre seems to remember things from before.

"Papa must be nearby. He said he'd wait here until I was well. Are you a golem* or a vech**?" 

*Oldtech perpetual motion engine in the form of power armour or vehicle. 

**Biorobot or mecha; prototypically living feral in the woods like a bear that escaped from a screening of Neon Genesis Evangelion. 

A what, or a what?

After quietly explaining the unfamiliar terms to the clone trooper, Imre responds. "Definitely more like a golem than a vech, though not exactly like either. And, we don't know what your papa looks like. Would you be willing to help us find him?"

She nods rapidly. 

"Papa is easy to find! He's the tallest, and the strongest, and he has big blue horns! And he's also the best at shooting and riding! In the entire clan!" 

Well, that's certainly distinctive, and a concerning description of what sort of situation there is outside. He already figured this probably wasn't anywhere in New York, but it's looking like 'New York' might not be much of a thing anymore, if people are going around in 'clans.' He supposes that makes sense with the context still trickling in from his integration of the language files he plundered from that Adapter Orb, the hardware plugged into it, and the central terminal. "We definitely didn't see anyone like that inside. Maybe he had to go outside for something? Or maybe the intruder we handled earlier tricked him somehow. Want to ride on me while we go check outside?"

'Xeno, please slowly lower the manipulator down towards her, and be ready for if she climbs up onto us.'

He'll oblige, though he's not clear on why she would. 'Isn't she healthy now? She shouldn't need help walking out of here.'

'She might not need help walking, but her stride is going to be tiny compared to ours, or even just to your own. That, and she's not working with our chassis or your freaky psycho-biology bullshit, so sparing her the calories might be important. Plus, letting her ride on us will let her feel a bit more comfortable with us, and let her think of us as similar to the other people who've carried her. It'll help her trust us.'

That sounds a bit backwards to him. 'Wouldn't it make more sense if she only let us carry her once she trusts us?'

He radiates a bit of exasperation as he replies, 'It's complicated. Kids have to learn things like 'trust' through experience. Maybe she won't ride on us, but she might, and I just need you to not react weirdly-- not try and throw her off or anything, when she does. And if she does, try and be aware of where she is and how bumpy her ride'll be once we're walking.'

'Alright, fine.' This feels weird, again, but oh well. He'll just try and think of it like...a fragile extraction target, that he needs to not break during exfil.

The small child thinks slowly and sternly about this. 

"Yes please!!! Do you have a gun for me? So I can be your o-ver-watch?" 

Aw! That's just adorable. 'Do you have a side-arm in there?'

He briefly searches around, and finds what are appears to be a simple handgun holstered at his hip, and radiates confirmation.

'Go ahead and send it out to here then.'

And once the clone trooper has deposited it in the transfer compartment and flipped it around to the other side, he'll open it up to the girl. "Most of our gear is sized for my chassis, but Xeno inside had this handgun. Think you've got a handle on it?"

She nods firmly and takes the gun. She does in fact seem to understand how to handle a firearm; she's not intensely disciplined about it, but she's not making any mistakes which  grunts don't make all the time. 

It's cute that her parents must've been taking her to the range even at this tender young age-- or, just letting her practice out in the sticks, since he doesn't know actual ranges are going to be a thing anymore. "Very good! We'll be much safer with you keeping watch. Alright Xeno, let's take a peek outside."

'Before you ask: I'm telling her this to increase her confidence and help her continue to feel comfortable. Her papa...probably isn't going to be outside, not alive at least, and she needs to have a cushion-- she needs to have something or someone that she's comfortable with, that she can rely on to be steady and strong in his place.'

That makes sense, he guesses. Kids are weird, but he's been exposed to so much weirdness already, it's whatever.

He'll extract the orb from the pod's ports and stow it again, then slowly, carefully walk them out of the pod room, back through the terminal room, up to the door that the ghost indicates is the exit, swaps the lorentz cannon back to the spreadgun in case there's an ambush or the other side, then uses the manipulator to open up the door.

They are, apparently, underground. The facility did not, in it's internal self-assessment, believe itself to be underground, and yet, the way forward is a rising tunnel through packed dirt, sunlight glimmering at the other end. 

He's initially surprised, but after thinking about it for a moment, he supposes it only makes sense. After God knows how long, it's not that strange to think this place has gotten buried. It does prompt him to revise his estimates on how long this place has been derelict further upwards, though. And his estimates that this situation has anything to do with the NYPD further downwards.