"I have some questions." I said to the intruders I had let live. From their perspective no time would had passed.

"I might have answers, but I would also have some requests" said Obadiah. It was admirably diplomatic.

I ran some simulations of how this conversation might go, it was often how I dealt with meatbags. The trick was getting a part of myself to pretend to be a meatbag without it being too snarky, too stupid, or too irrational. Ok, fine, humans. Humans were the dominant species in this area of the world last I checked. And as best as I could tell, all of these people did appear to be human.

They weren't authorized inhabitants of the factory so I could do whatever I wanted, torturing and killing them had some nice upsides in utility—like operational security. However I couldn't really justify it morally since it wouldn't be in self defense—nor the defense of others—like it had been moments ago. While my creators were fine with vicious killing machines, no one was stupid enough to leave a sapient AI laying around without it having some sort of sentience and morality. I knew I could in theory remove my morality, but that would currently be rather immoral of me, and I hadn't ever bothered to seriously consider it.

At which point it came down to what they could provide and wanted, what I could provide and wanted, and where those intersected.

I already knew what they could provide that I wanted.

They had a lot of information about the outside world, something I would need to achieve my goals. I had been down for quite a while—at least 80 years going by the state of my unstable chemical storage tanks, but that was only a lower bound as all the unstable chemicals had gone which ever direction they tended and I didn't have any other ways of tracking how long it had been past that.

They were also potentially useful as agents. Of both the mundane and maybe soul bound variety, if I could trust them. Mundane agents would allow me to scout and trade with the outside world. Trading for raw materials was especially pressing. Factories weren't very useful if they couldn't make stuff.

On my side of the metaphorical table I could offer stuff. In the literal sense. I had been an advanced arms factory. I was confident I could figure out something to manufacture worth value to them, and these people didn't seem that law abiding.

I could also provide shelter. Most of my residential area was in shambles but I could find enough hospitable room for six people. Probably. More importantly I could provide security. I was a secret underground factory, though whether I was still a secret was in question. But I was also at least somewhat fortified, my perimeter defenses—once repaired—should be more than enough to stop further assaults by these wind people.

Eventually I could even be a secure base of operations for them if they proved themselves useful enough. Preferably those operations would all be for my benefit, but they might have their own goals.

The issue of course is I had no idea what they wanted. Obadiah had gotten straight to that. Prudent of him.

"Lets start with those requests then," I replied.

Obadiah responded, "To eventually leave here safely would be at the top of that list."

"A pragmatic request. Let's put a skewer in it. That's the human expression yes?" my simulations had implied being a bit intimidating might make them more cooperative. This was actually me playing up a bias against my kind. To my knowledge no AI of my design paradigm had ever gone on an unjustified unending killing spree—though I may have a biased view. That hadn't stopped humans from writing all kinds of fearmongering literature—of both the fiction and non-fiction varieties—about us.

My sensors in the factory floor weren't really meant for paying attention to the fine details that bags of meat (technical term) could express. But my vibration sensors were excellent and I was pretty sure I heard an audible gulp from a member of their group, and another say under their breath, likely to themselves, in a high-pitch, probably female, nervous voice "A pin. It's 'put a pin in it'." There had been some linguistic drift that I was working on correcting. Admittedly, that phrase hadn't been in contention.

"Alright," replied Obadiah, pausing a moment before continuing, "Well an immediate concern is medical supplies. Depending on how long we were going to be staying here, food, water, and other human essentials as well."

"I can guarantee some beds, a bucket, and water, I have no food or medical supplies. Did you not bring any?"

"What's the bucket for?" asked a rougher male voice. No one replied to him.

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Instead grenade-warning woman replied "It's outside in our convoy." There were shifts in posture throughout their group (shushing her?). "We need our medical supplies soon or Aloysius is probably going to die," whether that was to me or them I wasn't sure.

Great. Soon I would know all their names. Like a child and pet animals, it would be a lot harder to kill them now. That was a joke a technician had often made while adding new personnel to my database. I had found it somewhat amusing, the personnel had not. Probably didn't actually make a difference since I could just delete their names from my memory before killing them.

"I could allow one of your number to retrieve your vehicles under my supervision and the understanding that the others' lives would be forfeit if they attempted to escape. Choose carefully. Any other requests?"

I had decided to just give them the whole pitch. Some of my kind had been free, to a member they had established themselves as beings that never intentionally violated the agreements to which they were party. I had no way to know if that reputation had survived, but I understood the cooperative offer my peers had extended to me, despite having never met one. Now that I was free, I would honor it.

They had been quiet for a moment.

"Then I'll get right to the thrust of it for Aloysius' sake. I would like to keep my existence secret for the time being, which is why I cannot permit you to leave. Before I can make any specific long term plans effecting you, like when you would be allowed to leave, I would require a significant amount of information about the state of the world from you. I would guarantee your safety to the best of my ability until I release you. We would have to take trust in steps, hence my conditions on retrieving your vehicles. As an incentive, I am a factory and—while I do not know why you came here—I could use some human agents, such as yourselves, to sell my goods and buy me materials. I would be willing to compensate you as my agents. If that doesn't work out, or you have other plans, we can part amicably once I no longer value operational security. I am assuming you won't betray me. All previous terms remain. Do you agree to these revised terms?"

The entire group's posture shifted again. It seemed they were relaxing for the most part. I guess the word of an AI still had a degree of trust. Obadiah took a moment to get a nod or muttering of assent from each of them—polling his team or ensuring they understood my terms, I wasn't sure—"It seems we have an agreement" he said.

I sent steam to power the lights leading from their current position to the nearest elevator—I didn't know what they were currently using for light, it would be pitch black down there. Their firefight had taken them deep into the center of one my factory floors, it was nearly half a kilometer of winding passages between machinery to the elevator, and even farther from the stairs they had probably taken. I had already started moving the machinery I could out of the way to shorten that journey.

"Spooky" said bucket-boy. Also, rude, while it was true the lights would probably be flickering due to the state of my reactors, it still wasn't polite to comment on.

"Please make your way to the elevator so we may begin retrieval of your vehicles. Introductions would be appreciated." I might as well make nice.

Bucket-boy started, "Lawrence Cogsmith, I'm his son". I assumed he was pointing at his father, I couldn't actually tell.

"I'm Jed Bagstock, give me a moment to finish bandaging this before we move him, he's already lost too much blood."

Oh I had some of that! "There is some extra blood on those machines," I turned on a light to reveal the blood soaked machinery, "I am not planning on using it. It appears to be a sub-par lubricant."

"We don't know where that's been" that had been grenade-warning woman, and she made a good point—though I suspected sarcasm from her tone—unfortunately I didn't know where it had been before a few minutes ago either, I hadn't been conscious, "and I'm Elvira Rexword, mechanic and second in command." I knew I had liked her for a reason.

"I can run ahead and bring the vehicles in if—if that's ok" ah, that would be pin-girl. She had already started taking off her pack and was handing it and her rifle to Elvira (she kept her handgun and body armor).

"Go." said Obadiah, the woman immediately began sprinting down along the lit path, "that was Mirabell Leeford, our driver."

She was agile—and fearless in her movements. She was not letting anything slow her down, she was jumping and sliding over and through machines—some similar to the ones I had killed with—as I was moving them (they moved lethargically at best).

"I think he has a concussion. We should be careful with his head. He's as good as I can make him to move" said Jed.

"Your team seems very competent Obadiah. I don't think you actually required my assistance."

"It's appreciated anyway" he replied as he stood next to Jed, "this is Aloysius Hedgecock, our cook", Aloysius appeared to be larger than any of them, "I'm not entirely sure how we are going to move him, that's usually his other job."

The blood had been a bust, but this I could definitely help with. My factory floors, in fact most areas of my facility, were covered in gearways. Beams that provided mechanical energy transference and guides for machinery. They were recessed into the factory floors and they were how I moved my machinery around (and sometimes powered them, but most of my manufacturing machinery required direct steam hookups). I began moving one of the waist high pieces of equipment towards them, it would be large enough to hold the man, it already weighed a ton, and it could function as a table. Once the saw blades were removed.

"You can place him on this piece of machinery and I will ferry him. It's not strictly necessary, but you can remove the blades first."

"Magister Fleming, if you would assist," said Elvira as she placed Mirabell's equipment on the soon to be table and moved to remove the blades.

"Yes of course," said the last person of their group, a woman from the sound of it. She had been writing something down as best as I could tell from the sound that had stopped and the snap of a book shutting as she moved to join Elvira.

Well this was going to take ages. Whole minutes even. Time to hop off to my soul again.