Outside, about thirty feet up the hallway of the service hatch, floated a modestly sized robot of uncertain function. In appearance not unlike a large toilet bowl attached to an inline turbine, it droned quietly as it drifted along the ceiling.

A distant crumpboooommmmm reverberated up the hallway from some distant intersection, and the floor buzzed again.

The robot, which—in spite of the fact that it should have been decades old—seemed to be a completely intact GUN Mono Beetle, did not notice. It appeared undisturbed by the state of the station, and equally undisturbed by the meteor impacts, which — while not actually fatal — were increasing in frequency, and showed no signs of stopping.

In the depths of the station the group was too far away from the outer hull for any of the meteors to directly affect them, but the sympathetic humming of the station as the rampant space debris struck it began to take a cumulative effect, jarring old conduits and causing badly-secured lights to flicker.

Rock took a fatigued stumble out of the maintenance corridor after Tau. He looked... just as plainly tired and pained as before. In truth, this likely had nothing to do with any lack of progress, but more the constant, searing pain he endured, ripping from the side of his head, among other grizzly burns and puncture wounds. In fact, owing to the robot's shortcut, they were actually making pretty good time. The complex structure of the new hall, which was significantly nearer to the cannon's core (and already starting to show more signs of the bizarre technology that made the Eclipse Cannon what it was), made it clear that they'd be getting no more free passes on progress, though.

A reddish streak *swizzed* through the air with a crisp bang to concuss the Mono Beetle into a popping, satisfying mess of loose, jangly parts. Rock, pistol in one hand, the other clutched close to his body in its sling, jogged down the curved hall not with renewed vigor, but forced vigor. Chances were he wasn't going to be outrunning anybody anytime soon, nor did he want to; with uneven steps that favored his right side strongly, he readily fell in behind anybody who pressed to run any faster. As far as he was concerned, he was going to be the minimum pace setter.

Soon enough, they'd find themselves at a couple of open-hanging security doors, long ago circumvented by a prior infiltration. Beyond them, a drop: a long, daunting drop, the likes of which words like "long" vastly understated. Leading through a ridged, vaguely cylindrical chasm, down, down, down, and ultimately terminating in a chamber that, in lieu of a floor, held a few olympic swimming pools' worth of that unpleasant fluid they had encountered before, burning with a caustic, green glow, the mighty hole in the floor looked to be a fantastic way to die.

Naturally, Rock was already at the very edge of it and visibly preparing himself to jump.

"Anybody need help gettin' down this?" asked the battered combatant, crouching at the threshold of the Glowing Doom Pit.

OOC: Sorry I've been so hideously AWOL. My activity should start picking up again, soon. Fun fact, though: I caught up on most of these posts on a smart phone at the Verizon store.

Jam, who had endured the undesirable (to say the very least) working conditions, in silent disapproval, took Rock's every additional burden in stride, perhaps understanding the futility of protest. Towards Ace and his sensible observation, she cast a glance that was both appreciative but sympathetically exasperated until the mention of an unexpected bullet point on their list of able-bodied personnel. Instantaneously, both brows shot up into her hairline; her eyes flashed, and she caught herself just before allowing her head to turn.

It was with surprising passiveness that she watched Rock -- as he always did -- spearhead their push forward, and followed with little more than a single, jarring crack, quickly and effortlessly passing the primate within a few strides.

The dead air that their radios had been tuned to crackled and chirped.

"Eep?" it said, "work — t — lup?"

After a short pause, it went on.

"Sa — ngineering, and I can give you th — ubstation where you c — yan — the char — it's only a —"

(Feel free speak up if your against Ace briefly becoming luggage, Greens. )


Unconcerned with the height of the fall as well as uninterested in colliding with the others on the way down ( and partly because he preferred having the high ground to pick off possible enemies attracted below by their entry. ) Tau had intentionality delayed his decent until the majority of the others had made it to the platform below.

Once enough of the others had landed on the bottom platform, Tau made his way to the edge of the cylindrical chasm and took a few moments two to pinpoint his intended landing spot (preferably one that wouldn't include an unintended 'organic' cushion) prior to jumping, yet delayed his jump upon noticing the nearby serval continuing to linger near the edge.

"I take it you either lack the will to jump blindly into a massive cavernous pit or lack a safe method of descent. Either way, while being cautious is wise, now is not the time." Unless otherwise prevented, and without a further word or a chance for a response from the serval, Tau simply collected him over his left shoulder (while keeping in mind not to treat the serval as rough as corpse rolled in a rug, but probably pretty similar to it) and made his leap, cat and all.

Once in free fall, Tau carefully ignited his primary thruster in short, controlled bursts to slow his descent enough to prevent damage (structural or otherwise) to either his body or his passenger, and to ensure he didn't literally smash through the platform below upon landing.