Sol Survivors Chapter 2: Descent

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Chapter 2: Descent 

Rand stands over Marcus’s body; the young soldier’s blood still pooling on the platform’s deck. The AK2K grip tight in his hand, the rifle’s weight a small anchor against the chaos. Toku hovers at his side, dreads tied back, black skin gleaming under the red emergency lights. Lila lingers a step behind, hands empty, her large almond eyes flicking between the two men and the haze below. The central lift disc is right in front of them, battered and scarred, the silo shaft yawning like a throat. 

Lila steps to the control panel first, fingers dancing over the scorched keys. “Give me a sec,” she mutters, overriding the lock with a direct hack. The machinery groans to life; pistons hissing as the platform lurches downward into the silo shaft. “Yes! I’m useful!” Lila chirps triumphantly as the lift shudders and begins its descent. 

Rand scans the haze below, jaw clenched. Marcus’s dying words loop in his skull: you were right… pig-faced Zuhtou… MOSHUUS… get to the ship… Vindication after twenty-two years feels like a joke. Too late. Too much lost. Feeling the acid rise in his empty gut, he shoves it all down in his mind, focuses on the descent. “Stay sharp. We hit bottom, we move fast.” 

The platform drops thirty meters, grinding its way down before it freezes with a screech, gears and pistons seizing mid-shaft. Smoke billows up around them, cutting visibility to arm’s length, the smell of synthetic burning enveloping them.  

“Stuck,” Lila says, smacking the panel. “No override from here.” 

Rand peers down. Ground level is another ten meters, rubble and a hissing noise faintly tangible through the murk. The walls loom close, railings bent downward and support beams jutting like broken bones could work as a makeshift ladder down if you were watching an OSCA safety video explaining how not to do something safely. 

“We climb. Toku, you first, test the holds. Lila next. I’ll cover from up here.” 

Toku nods once, unreadable eyes flicking to the drop. He grabs the bent rail, hands shaking the loose railing crossbars to determine if they seem safe enough to bear weight. He deems them adequate and descends fluidly, testing each step. Lila follows, less sure; her breaths shallow. When her foot slips on a grease-slick rung that gives way, Toku’s hand shoots up from below, steadying her ankle without a word. She mutters a quick “Thanks,” and forces herself to keep going. 

Rand waits until they’re down, rifle trained on the haze below. His mind races, leading two strangers, one lethal as a ghost, the other impulsive as hell. Am I getting them out or just deeper in? The doubt gnaws, but he pushes it aside. When Toku signals clear, Rand swings over the edge, muscles burning as he climbs down last. 

They hit the bottom, boots crunching on the rubble-strewn deck covered in twisted robot arms, spent casings, blackened machine fragments scattered like shrapnel from grenades the Sol Libertatis soldiers must have dropped on their way up. A damaged coolant tank for the lift hisses nearby, spewing frost and vapor that mixes with the smoke to form a dense, chilling fog across the floor. The metallic tang bites sharper here, laced with chemical chill. 

Before they can orient, boots clatter on metal. Two prison security guards rush in from a side corridor, moving fast. They’re not on patrol; they’re running, either toward some emergency or away from whatever’s causing the laser whines echoing down the hall. The fog hides the trio until the guards are almost on top of them. 

The lead guard skids to a stop, eyes widening behind his visor at the sight of orange uniforms. “Oh, fuck me… Prisoners? Uh,,, Freeze!” He raises his compact sub machine gun in panic. 

Time shatters. 

Rand drops to a knee behind a pile of robot debris, AK2K up, sights on the lead guard’s center mass. Two quick taps, crack-crack. The man jerks, SMG clattering as he folds, blood blooming on his chest. 

The second guard pivots, his compact SMG swinging up, finger on the trigger. But the fog is thick here, a churning veil, and Toku is already gone, melted into the gray like he was made of smoke himself. 

The guard fires blind, rounds only striking the scenery through the fog. 

Toku emerges from the murk like a ghost, quiet and precise, having vanished in the shadows until he’s too close to counter. He snatches a shard of twisted metal from the rubble mid-stride, sidesteps the guard’s panicked muzzle swing, and drives the improvised knife into the man’s throat with a cold, efficient thrust. The guard gurgles, drops limp; eyes still wide with surprise, no chance for a second shot. 

The corridor falls quiet except for ringing ears and the low hiss of the coolant tank. 

Rand rises slowly, scanning the fog for more threats. “Clear?” 

Toku straightens, dropping the shard. Without looking at the body, his uniform untouched by the spurting blood, he replies “Clear.” 

Lila exhales hard, eyes flicking to the dead guard at Toku’s feet, then away. She feels useless in the moment, hands empty, nothing she could do but stay low and hope the fog hid her. 

Rand steps forward, nudging the bodies with his boot. Each guard has a sidearm holstered, compact Walther service pistols, and an MP12 short-barreled 9mm sub-machine gun. Extra magazines hang on their belts. He gathers the firearms holding out both pistols and one MP12 to Toku. Looking up from his crouching position by the guards, he says “I’m a man of my word.” 

Toku nods without a sound, taking both pistols, checks their chambers and magazines, loaded with 19 jacketed hollow points in double stacks and another in each chamber. He tucks one pistol in the back of his belt, the other in front, secure and ready. 

Rand looks at the MP12s, then at Lila. He hesitates, jaw tight, protective instinct flaring. She’s green in a fight, impulsive, but unarmed is a death sentence down here. He inspects the MP12, ejects the mag, checks it, nearly full of flechette rounds, and slams it home. The flechettes loaded are polymer tipped, designed to rip through flesh but not armor, or the hull. Perfect for use on a space station where everyone’s safety is a priority except for the prisoners’’. “Here.” He holds it out butt-first. “You need more than nothing if we’re running into more of these.” 

Lila takes it, weight pulling her shoulders forward a little. She looks at the weapon like it’s a live snake, then at Rand. 

He gives her the thirty-second version, voice low and steady: “Safety here, thumb it off. Stock tight to shoulder, not hip. Short controlled bursts. Don’t spray and pray, you’ll burn ammo and hit nothing. Aim center mass, exhale on the trigger. Got it?” 

She nods once, swallows. “Got it, Boss.” 

Rand strips the extra MP12 magazines from both guards’ belts, four in total, and hands three of them over to Lila, keeping one for himself. “These are all full of flechette, undoubtedly so no stray bullets can pierce the hull or windows, so they’re not going to be great against these robots.” He gestures to the charred robot parts strewn about. “Load up. Stay behind cover. Don’t shoot each other. We’ll get through this.” 

Toku watches the exchange in silence, dark eyes unreadable. Then he turns back toward the corridor ahead, pistols ready. 

The smoke swirls thicker, carrying the faint whine of servos and the heavy tread of metal feet somewhere deeper in the haze. Rand shoulders the AK2K again and slings the other MP12 for when his few remaining rifle rounds run out. “Move. Whatever’s coming, it’s bigger than these two.” 

They push forward down the only passage available, the corridor narrowing into a haze-choked tunnel that should lead toward the docking area according to Lila’s memory of the map. Rand takes point, AK2K at low ready, 10 rounds left, eyes scanning the swirling fog. Toku covers the rear, one pistol in each hand, naturally blending with the shadows like it’s instinct. Lila stays in the middle, nervously clutching the MP12 SMG. The weight feels alien in her hands, cold and heavy, but as she walks, she starts to like how it sits. A little smile crosses her face, half nerves, half relief. Solid, like it might actually do something if she needs it to. 

The dense fog thins just enough for shapes to emerge ahead. Four bipedal security robots stand motionless in the corridor, man-sized, sleek alloy frames under the dim emergency strips. Their arms lift in unison, forearms splitting open with a mechanical click. Green laser emitters glow to life, pointed straight at the trio. 

Before Rand or Toku can react, Lila lets out a startled yelp and squeezes the trigger. The MP12 bucks wildly in full auto, muzzle climbing as flechette rounds spray in a chaotic arc. The recoil shocks her; she fights to keep the barrel down, legs braced, but the gun climbs anyway. Rounds ping off robot armor, sparks flying, doing almost no damage. One lucky flechette punches through a robot’s optic sensor; its head jerks, red targeting light flickering out on one side. 

Rand and Toku dive to the sides. “Jeezusfuck!” Rand barks, yanking Lila behind a pile of wreckage as a green laser sizzles past where her head was a second ago. The beam scorches the wall, leaving a black scar and the smell of burnt metal. 

Lila stumbles into cover, stunned, chest heaving. The MP12 is empty, slide locked back. She stares at it like it betrayed her. “Shit. It just… kept going.” 

Rand slides to the side, one-handed grip on the AK2K, squeezes off two rounds into another robot’s faceplate. 8 rounds left. The bullets meet their mark but the damage doesn’t seem to affect the robot’s functioning. He curses under his breath, feeling the need to conserve ammo. Toku, more precise, fires both pistols in quick succession, hollow points cracking into the optic sensors of a third robot. The eyes shatter; the bot staggers, blind on one side, but keeps advancing. 

Lila ducks lower behind the debris, fumbling with the SMG. “How do I…?” She finds the mag release, presses it. The empty magazine drops. She grabs one of the spares Rand gave her, but her hands shake; the mag slips and clatters to the deck. 

Green lasers slice the air. One beam grazes Rand’s shoulder, searing through the ragged remnants of his orange prison uniform sleeve. Pain flares hot and sharp, but it’s shallow. He grits his teeth and keeps moving. He lunges forward, grabs the arm of the nearest robot, and redirects the laser emitter just as it fires. The beam lances across the corridor and punches through the chest of another robot that was flanking Lila’s cover. The machine sparks and drops. 

Lila jumps from the sudden blast, startled, dropping the fresh magazine again. “You didn’t show me how to reload!!!” 

Rand and Toku sync without a word. Rand tackles the arm of his robot again, forcing the laser to track across; Toku does the same with his, twisting the emitter. The two beams cross in mid-air and slam into the remaining robots’ cores. Armor buckles, circuits explode in showers of sparks. The machines crumple, servos whining down to silence. 

The corridor goes quiet except for ringing ears and the hiss of cooling metal. 

Lila pops up from cover, MP12 raised, fresh mag inserted. She points it toward the general area of the action without thinking, squeezes the trigger. Click. Nothing. The bolt is still locked back. 

Rand and Toku both freeze in her line of fire, eyes wide for a split second, expecting a hail of flechettes. The first emotional reaction either Lila or Rand ever saw on Toku’s face. Then they exhale in unison. 

Rand walks over calmly, he gently pushes the hot muzzle aside with one hand, then slaps the side of the SMG. The bolt slams forward, chambering a round. 

Lila lowers the gun, sheepish defiance on her face. “You didn’t show me that part either.” 

Rand snorts once, dark humor in his eyes, then lowers his eyes to the ground in resignation. He turns around to walk back to Lila. “No, you’re right. This was completely my fault.” He stands next to her and holds up his own MP12 after slinging the AK2K over his shoulder. “You figured out the mag release, and can you figure out the bolt?” Lila nods, mimicking the slap Rand did earlier. “Cool.” He lifts his own MP12 to show her the fire select switch. “Guess I only showed you the ‘Safety’ and ‘Fuck Everything’ settings. Between those are the ‘Single shot’ and ‘Burst’, you should put it on Burst when it’s not on Safety, it won’t get away from you like it just did.” He watches her cycle through the switch points. “Keep your finger off the trigger.” Rand nods as Lila complies. “That brings me to my biggest failure to you, always remember these 4 things.” He raises a finger for each point. “Always assume that this thing is locked and loaded at all times, even if you think it isn’t. Never point it at anything or anyone you are NOT willing to put in the ground. Like I just mentioned before, keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to kill something so a twitchy finger doesn’t accidentally punch holes in someone you didn’t intend to punch holes in, including yourself. And last, before you decide to kill that thing in your sights that ou decided needs to die, make sure there’s nothing behind that thing that might get killed if you miss, assuming that you don’t also want it dead too. Got it?” 

“Got it,” Lila replies. “Don’t be a dumbass.” 

Rand smirks. “Yeah, don’t be a dumbass.” 

Toku secures one pistol in the front of his belt, consolidating his limited cache of rounds into one magazine, dark eyes scanning the haze ahead. “I have 14 rounds left.” 

Rand switches the SMG for his rifle. “8 and a mag of flechette for the MP12.” 

Lila speaks up. “I got three clips.” 

“Magazines,” Rand and Toku correct her simultaneously. 

Lila rolls her eyes “ok…Magazines” 

Something catches Rand’s eyes on the torso of one of the downed security robots before they move forward towards the hanger where the ship awaits. Printed across their chest reads in large letters “M.O.S.H.U.U.S.” and underneath in smaller text “Agility Dynamics Exercitis Line: LegionaryX” 

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