Sol Survivors Chapter 3: Blood and Alloy 

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Chapter 3: Blood and Alloy 

The MOSHUUS stamp on the robot torso lingers in Rand’s mind like a bad taste. He doesn’t say it out loud. You were right… pig-faced Zuhtou… MOSHUUS… get to the ship… No time to dwell. They had to get moving. 

They push forward, boots crunching over spent casings and twisted metal. The corridor curves gently, following the outer ring’s massive circumference. “Up ahead it should open up to a juncture” Lila speaks up, “It’ll continue on around the outer ring, but there should be a spoke to the right that leads to the hub, where the docking ports should be.” 

As they reach the juncture, the smoke clings; the smell of burned rubber and flesh chokes the air. The dense air thinning only enough to reveal more wreckage. The junction is a slaughterhouse. Corpses lie in twisted heaps, Ares Station prison guards and Sol Libertatis fighters alike torn open by bullets and shrapnel. One soldier’s chest is caved in, ribs splayed like broken fingers, intestines spilling in wet coils across the deck having been torn apart by a LegonaryX robot that had its forearms blown off, using its jagged stumps as meat shredders. A guard’s head is a cavity from a bullet wound through his forehead, eyes frozen wide; blood and brain matter pooling in thick, dark puddles that mix with leaking hydraulic fluid from the robots. The LegionaryX robots are wrecks, chests blown open, limbs blown apart from grenades, circuits dangling like entrails, oil and coolant mingling with human blood in black-red slicks. The air is heavy, thick with death. The smell hits hard: copper, ozone, burnt rubber, and the sour rot of opened bowels. The fighting they heard earlier happened right here, grenades, lasers, bullets. 

Lila averts her eyes, avoiding the scene, having only caught a glimpse of the carnage through the parting smoke, not letting her mind process any of it. She steps past it all to where the junction splits. The passage ahead keeps bending around the outer ring, continuing the curve, and as expected, another path branches perpendicular. The spoke connecting the outer ring to the central hub is a straight, wide spoke tunnel arrowing inward toward the station’s central hub as she recalls the map in her head. “That’s the way,” she says, pointing down the spoke. “Straight shot to the hub. Docking arms are there. Our ship.” She does see what looks like some hoverbikes that came from down the passage to the hub, now on their sides; some smashed into LegionaryX robots. Seeing that there are no human remains, she investigates. 

Rand pauses at a cluster of debris, crouching to sift through it, acting numb to another scene of death. He spots a full magazine for the AK2K wedged under a shattered robot arm and the riddled corpse of a soldier. 30 rounds, undamaged. He ejects the old magazine and seats the full one, slapping it into his rifle, checking the chamber to ensure there’s still a round ready to go. 38. He feels a little better having more than a handful of cartridges that could actually do some damage. 

He looks over at Toku, seemingly unaffected by the bodies he’s standing over. He seems to have found a couple of magazines for his pistols as well. Toku looks at each of the magazines he recovered, 12 rounds left in one and 15 in the other. 41 total. He takes the time to fill a pair of magazines to their fullest achieving his sense of balance with both pistols loaded evenly again, leaving one spare mag with just 1 extra round. He tucks his pistols back in his belt as before, one in the front and one in the back. 

Several hover bikes lie among the wreckage that Lila goes through, Sol Libertatis markings, matte black, thrusters still humming faintly with residual power. She kicks the first one upright, checks the power cell: 40%, no leaks. The second is similar, 35%, minor scorch on the fairing, but thrusters respond when she thumbs the starter. A third and fourth are worse, frames bent, one thruster dead with its front fork tangled in a LegionaryX torso. “Hey” she calls out to the other two, “I found two bikes that might work if we want to get down there faster,” she says, her arms sweeping over the two seemingly functional bikes, posing like a game show assistant. ” No major damage, I think, Fuel’s low on both, but they’ll run, probably?” 

Toku looks over at Lia and nods, then tilts his head, listening, hearing something the others haven’t yet. A low rumble grows from further along the curved passageway, not from behind them, but ahead on the outer ring, echoing off the walls. Fast. Mechanical. 

Rand hears it, glancing towards the oncoming sound. A flat-bed transport sled bursts into view around the curve, open cargo deck, armored sides low enough for the prison guards to lean over, six men in total clinging on the open transport, SMGs raised. Red emergency lights flash across its frame. It’s coming hard, closing the distance in seconds. 

“No time to test the bikes,” Rand says. “Grab ’em.” 

Rand and Toku each swing onto a bike. Lila hesitates one heartbeat, odds flashing through her augmented mind, then jumps on behind Rand, arms locking around his waist, MP12 slung across her back. “Don’t crash,” she mutters meekly. 

Toku is already on the move, twisting the throttle. The machine lifts with a sharp whine and shoots forward, Toku leaning low as the bike runs hot underneath him. 

Rand follows after. The bike coughs, sputters, spraying a shower of sparks from its front  thruster, then surges forward with a lurch. Toku is already ahead, pulling away fast. 

The transport roars up behind them, SMGs barking. Flechette rounds snap past, pinging off walls. Rand weaves the bike erratically, keeping low, making them a harder target. Toku slows just enough to twist and fire backward, one-handed, precise. Hollow points crack toward the sled but the angle is bad; the cart’s bulk shields most of the guards. 

Lila leans around in her seat on the back of the bike as the transport closes distance, the guards clutching the sides of the transport as they lean out of the flatbed to get their shots in as they charge toward her and Rand’s bike. As they pull up closer, the bike’s thruster sputtering, she raises her own MP12 up, bracing against Rand’s back. She remembers to fire the SMG in three-round bursts, but all of her shots still go high, missing the guards’ heads as they crouch down trying their best to make themselves as small a target as possible while holding on and trying to aim their own SMGs with their shots going wildly off target. 

“Don’t try for headshots,” Rand shouts back at Lila. “Aim lower, center mass!” 

Lila lowers her aim and squeezes short bursts. Flechettes spray. The burst catches a guard as he starts to climb over the side to get a better angle to shoot, hitting him low. The man screams, clutching his groin, and tumbles off the sled. 

Rand winces hard. Toku’s head snaps around for a split second. Even the guards on the transport flinch, a collective grimace rippling through them as they watch their compatriot rolling to a crumpled heap on the floor of the shaft to be left behind. 

Lila lowers the gun, confused. “Wasn’t that center mass?” 

The transport barrels along, parallel to Rand and Lila making them inevitable targets no matter how bad their opponent’s aim was. Rand slams the throttle harder. The damaged bike lurches, erratic, thrusters stuttering. He’s unable to outrun the sled on this damaged bike. 

“Center mass!” he shouts back at Lila over the wind and gunfire gesturing to the center of his chest. 

She nods, aims again as the guards regroup, but the bike’s wobble throws her off. The burst goes low again. Another groin hit. The guard howls, crumples, and falls. 

The other guards look back at their fallen comrades, distracted for a fatal second. 

Rand’s eyes snap wide as he sees something down the passage. He immediately slams the brakes. The bike skids sideways, thrusters flaring reverse. Lila’s grip slips, she gets flung forward off of her seat. Rand’s hand shoots out, catching her by the waistband of her pants as she sails past him. The fabric pulls down past her hips as he keeps her from flying any farther forward. She yelps but is held firmly by Rand’s grasp. 

Toku sees Rand brake and follows his lead. His bike responding better than Rand’s. 

The transport speeds past them, too fast to stop, straight into the path ahead. 

Two massive shapes charge from the opposite direction, filling the spoke tunnel. Two and a half meters tall, armored in segmented plates, helmet crests like ancient kabuto, katana blades extending in their grips. The robots move like mechanical Oni with terrifying grace, fluid, precise, and unstoppable. 

The transport races right between them as they tactically slide to each side of the passageway in a practiced dance. Katanas flash in unison. Two clean, horizontal arcs. Bodies slump. Blood sprays across alloy armor in thick arcs, arterial jets hitting the walls and ceiling in red patterns. The sled careens off for a few meters before crashing into the wall, wreckage scattering, torsos sliding across the deck in wet heaps. 

Lila watches as the falling heads tumble from the sled to the floor. It seems like slow motion, each bounce an echoing wet thump. The sound and imagery remind her of watermelons falling from the back of a truck until one of the heads rolls to face her to stare at her with its vacant glare. 

Toku pulls up beside Rand who’s still holding the back of Lila’s pants still tugged down past her butt, holding her up as she just stares forward, slack, oblivious, captivated by the scene. 

The robots turn as one, optics glowing green in the dim light. Katanas snap in unison with a startling motion that flicks the blood off the blades in a spatter onto the walls of the passage. 

They were not protecting the guards. They just killed them. All of them. A boiling in Rand’s stomach rises as he forces his reflux down. 

Lila steps back as Rand lets go of her waistband. “They weren’t on their side,” she says quietly. “And they sure as hell aren’t on ours.” 

Rand unmounts the bike and raises his rifle, flanking to one side as the robots advance, drawing attention from Lila. “Fall back!” He barks, AK2K up, squeezing single shots in rapid succession at the closest robot’s joints, three rounds, then three more. Bullets spark off the segmented armor, but one punches a gap in the shoulder linkage, sparks flying. The robot staggers a step but keeps coming. 32 left. He grits his teeth, shoulder wound burning with every recoil. 

Toku dismounts, pistol raised. He flanks to the other direction, picking the other robot to engage. He fires twice, hollow points ricochet off the plating, no penetration. He grunts without emotion and returns the pistol to his belt. Hollow points ineffective. He circles wide, using his speed, eyes locked on the katana blade of the second robot. He darts in, ducks a sweeping arc, the massive katana whistles over his head, close enough to slice one of his dreads. He rolls under, grabs the robot’s forearm housing, twists and sees that the sword itself is attached by linkages to the robot’s hand. The robot counters with a backhand pommel strike, clipping Toku’s sternum, sending him sliding away across the floor, pain lancing through his chest. He recovers, breath ragged, and circles again. The blade is too well secured for a quick grab, he needs a better plan to take it. 

Lila moves back, her heart pounding, steps shortened by the restriction of her half-dropped pants. The robots are nightmares, armored behemoths, menacing steel gleaming red with human blood. Faces starting back at her from severed heads on the floor pooling in blood. She stumbles back over Rand’s damaged bike, landing with her head by the power cell that hisses and sparks from the damage. Her Neuro-T implant chirps faintly, a sound only she can hear as she accesses stored schematics without thinking. Old hover bike tech from Hari’s hacks, similar enough to these thrusters. A thought comes, overload sequence, reroute the cell, spike the output. It could work. She crawls forward, fingers prying the access panel. 

The first giant samurai robot engages Rand directly, katana sweeping in wide arcs, deceptively fast for such a hulking mech. Rand rolls, fires mid-dodge, five rounds into the knee joint. Armor dents, servos whine, but it keeps coming. 27 left. Sweat stings his laser burned shoulder; the pain sharpens his focus, but the doubt creeps, how much ammo can I burn? 

Toku feints left on the second robot, dodges a downward slash that splits the steel of the deck, wedging the blade in the floor. He closes again, taking advantage of the brief opportunity, and grabs its arm again. The Samurai robot twists, the sword dislodged, and its pommel smashing into Toku’s ribs, lower this time. Breath explodes from him as he hits the ground hard, rolling away. Desperation fuels him; he can’t get close without some kind of an edge. 

Lila’s hands shake as she twists the relay on the power cell. The whine builds, overload imminent. The robot fighting Rand notices the movement, pivots, optics flaring. It swipes its katana toward her. Lila dives; the blade slices air but grazes her arm, blood welling. The sound of her scream is drowned as the cell detonates in a sharp electrical arc. Electromagnetic burst ripples out. 

The blast knocks Rand and Toku over. Rand hits the deck, shoulder flaring white-hot, ribs screaming. Toku tumbles, gasping, grabbing at his chest. 

The robots freeze like Oni statues, optics dim, limbs locked, internal reboot cycling. They have mere seconds. 

Rand scrambles up, lunges to the closest robot. He jams the AK2K barrel into a cracked torso plate damaged from the fight. He pulls the trigger and empties the rest of the magazine. Rounds hammer inside the mech, ricochet around the armored plates inside the chest cavity. Circuits explode, servos shred, hydraulics spurt like blood. The robot shudders, sparks flying, it collapses in a heap. Empty mag. 

Toku is quickly on the second robot. He climbs its side, boots finding purchase on blood-soaked armor plates. He draws the pistol, fires point-blank into the linkages attaching the katana to the forearm. Sparks fly, metal shears. The sword clatters free. 

The robot reboots, optics spark back on, locking onto Toku. It swings a free arm. Toku ducks and grabs the fallen katana, long, heavy, awkward in human hands, like a bulky nodachi. He swings two-handed, the blade biting deep into the robot’s torso. Armor splits, internals rupture, sparks and fluid spray. The machine staggers, shuddering as it collapses, spewing a flood of oil, cogs, and sparks. 

The corridor falls silent except for cooling metal and ringing ears. 

Toku wrestles the katana free from the wreckage, hefts it. It’s bulky and too long for quick use, but it’s a weapon he’s familiar with. It feels right. 

Rand ejects the empty AK2K mag, swaps to the partial one from earlier. Back down to 8 rounds. He slings the rifle and rubs his shoulder. The graze burns, ribs ache from the blast. He grits his teeth and looks down the passage ahead. The large bay doors to the central hub loom in the distance, the ship waiting somewhere beyond. “We keep moving. And Lila,” He shakes his head at the girl on the floor with a glint of humor in this scene of destruction, “Keep your pants on.” 

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