You see, for a group that worships technology, the incompatibility between one's way of life and certain technological heights was...frustrating. Well, if they could not build it, they would steal it.
The survivors where undressed, one of them luckily featuring gear made with mechanitors in mind, and then strapped to a medical slab. Each of them endured a full day or surgery, each hour marked by a loss of body. A loss of senses. Limbs went first, followed by their spines, leaving them locked in their forms. Eyes next, plunging their world into darkness...then ears, removing any capacity to anticipate what would happen before pain and numbness warned them of what they were about to lose...Their hearts would be the very last, every single bionic soon placed within the Parents, the Child inheriting the pieces of archotech they had managed to accrue thus far.
It was a gruesome affair, but such is life on the Rim.
Maybe it was apprehension. Maybe it was the seed of doubt. But the closer they got to a sell sufficient base, the more they felt like adding to it. This could perhaps be their last work on this land as mortals after all...or at all. As such, certain...luxuries slowly crept in: A hospital built for more than the 3 pawns. A guest room for any people found in danger or ailing to rest before being armoured, armed and sent on their way. A classroom for the children that found their bastion of civilization in the wilderness...Eventually even that wasn't enough. They wanted permanence. Something that could outlast even the archotech dolmen at the heart of their base. An automated centre capable of working without any humanoid input...
Mechanoid constructs were gutted. Generators of all kinds were built for redundancy, avoiding fickle sources such as the sun or wind, and a massive supercomputer was built to withstand the processing of Mechanoids without the need of a Mechanitor...Their gift to the ones that would take over. The cherry on top: A fully automated factory capable of providing stone, steel, components, alcyolite and skysteel, powered by a single atomic generator, locked bellow the danger line...
And then...there was nothing more to do...The tribal faction holding the key was offered a gift of alcyolite-infused plate armour, and skysteel and mythril low-tech weapons...and in exchange they got the key. The last piece of the key...