The Pale Tide

[Fromikeable]

Vance had heard a lot about Taris before he’d ever lived there. From what he’d known, it wasn’t too unlike Coruscant; a sprawling metropolis high above the ground with levels stretching below seemingly forever. Politics were omnipresent, crime was omniscient, and money was omnipotent. Such had been its nature, or rather, the nature of those had inhabited it.

As of today, there was a new nature to the planet, and it was omnipresent, omniscient, and omnipotent all on its own.

The Rakghouls had only just been beginning to swarm then. Now? They were everywhere. They had flooded the crater like a sea of snarling, pale, deformed flesh, and they had overtaken everyone and everything with ferocity Vance hadn’t thought living things of any kind could show. Entire battalions had been bitten, torn to pieces, or worse in mere seconds. Every building had been ransacked, every street shot into disarray, every fortification and battleplan instantly scrapped. Chains of command had been breaking down all day, and now, only mere hours afterward, as the sun hugged the horizon, sweetly bidding it farewell for the night, fear reigned with more power than either government could have possibly hoped to attain.

And so it was that the darkness only matched the desperation. Every minute that ticked by, the population of sane creatures dwindled. Every second that passed, the likelihood of surviving dipped. Vance wouldn’t even think about how with every attack, there was a chance that the number of rakghouls increased; that from every cry of agony and pain that had permeated the city that day, more than half had a chance of producing more and more.

Well, provided the origin of those cries hadn’t simply been butchered and… he’d think about it later. Much, much later.

But even if he had the will to consider it all, instinct demanded far more of the ex-padawan’s attention. There was no street free of the creatures now as there had been earlier; the only variable at this point was how many there’d be, and if they would be too busy doing the most ungodly things ever to notice him or his companions.

Most, it seemed, did.

Turning one such corner, the padawan’s green blade would lead others as such one case occurred, a half dozen creatures of the deep looking up from their meal of mangled flesh and uttering the most in-human sounds. Making up their minds as they bolted past, they would join dozens and dozens more galloping down the street mere meters behind in a race for life itself.

The only saving grace, the only glimmer of hope in a dark, deadly, infested city (if the remains in the crater could even still be called that; whole blocks were leveled) was the literal light blocks and blocks down the road; a great wall twenty stories high gleaming with floodlights and, more recently introduced, slag, scorch marks, and dents.

It was Fort Bennick, first and last line of defense for the East Tarisian Metropolitan Spaceport. Nowadays it was the last bastion of safety for a hundred miles.

The spaceport was… well, gone. The easternmost wall sat on the edge of the crater, as if perched right on the rim to peak down with its (now rare) volumes of light. Originally built to fit into the city, the fortress was roughly square, occupying numerous city blocks worth of space. Within the walls, the tips of massive, antiquated artillery could be seen jutting out at the sky, and atop the walls, nothing but the whispers of safety. The fort had been abandoned for years; Tarisian officials had hardly considered a warless fort to be worth the upkeep, and it had never been restored sufficiently for tourism. Its walls still stood strong, surely, but hitherto without purpose.

Today, it stood as the only hope of quite possibly the last people to ever see it in person. That was, of course, if it proved as effective at repulsing rakghouls as public interest.

[Dutch]

This is a post cowritten by Squee and myself, and is considered both character's entrance to the thread (Squee will be after me in the post order too :3)

---

Three hours earlier…

Jessoin stood back and to the right of the Sith Commander, Tesa mirroring him at the masked Darth’s left. With arms clasped behind his back and wry grin perched upon lips, his glowing green eyes would lazily move about the command deck. From the space battle outside, to the nervously sweating Imperials and over to admire Tesa’s rear, they were the only part of the zelosian that moved.

Meanwhile, Tesa stood with the opinion her time was better spent elsewhere. She was disinterested in flashes of fire and streaks of lasers that uselessly splashed the shields. For all she understood, she and Jessoin were standing here only because the Darth willed them to do so. Excellent time wasted. Tesa felt out of the loop, not being in a room with communications. Her entire, immediate future purpose was based on the happening of a little red light.

From the console before the Darth the little red light began to flash. The distress call echoed in the silence, a look to Tesa then Jessoin the only motion given by the Darth before the two bowed and left the bridge.

***

One hour earlier…

He would turn, dramatic shadows cast onto his pale skin by the flashing red transport emergency lights. Opaque black sleeveless robes hung off his lithe form, the dark underweave visible at Jessoin’s chest and arms. Half of the Sith’s face would be hidden behind a breath mask, the only sign of his grin wrinkled at his eyes. His plasteel boots would glint in the red glare, making the zelosian’s steps seem uneven as he approached the still changing Tesa. Bent over to fuss with her own boot, Jess would pause behind her with arms crossed to clearly stare at her rear.

“No need to stand yet, precious. You never looked better.”

Tesa rolled her eyes. With a final jerk, she pulled the last kink out of the boot’s tongue. Swiftly, Tesa tightly pulled the strap across the laces. The foot hit the deck with an experimental smack as she stood upright. Turning sharply, her braid swinging back over her shoulder, her critical eye quickly checking his appearance.

“You have.” Stepping toward him, Tesa lifted her hands to fix a fold at the V of his collar. “The mask doesn’t do it for me.” Her hand caressed the armorweave over his chest, thumb brushing gently, as she melded their presences. She took his hand as she turned and rested her back to his chest.

“And I have too looked better,” she mused aloud. Her head rested on his shoulder. “Recall the sleek, black dress with the green shimmer?” Really, there was more memory of her not in that dress than in it. “With the open back. And you spent so much time trying to sneak your hands under to…”

“ETA two minutes, my Lords.”

Tesa stepped away from Jessoin, still holding him lightly by the wrist. In the last year, their strengthening connection made it easier for her to feel him. The binding process, the reason for their high effectiveness, was easier now than ever. Holding his gaze momentarily, Tesa sharply nodded before releasing his arm.

You will not perish. For as long as I live.

***

Ten minutes ago…

With a wet crunch the leg was pulled from socket, the dead duros limply tossed aside by an invisible force. Jessoin flung the leg aside with a wave of his hand before the other pushed with a burst to spatter the head of a downed human. The zelosian whistled lightly, the sound tinny and haunting through the vocabulator of his breath mask. He would casually step from corpse to corpse, mutilating them idly as Tesa and himself made their way closer to the megastructure entrance. The main doors into Fort Bennick and where they were to rendezvous with Novus.

Had to make it look like the rakghouls had killed everything, and not the nerve agent Tesa had released into the vents for a few minutes. They had received the message from Novus, a group of Imperials and Republicans were en route to Fort Bennick. After clearing the base out of any remaining Republicans Tesa and Jessoin were to aid the entire group in escaping the area, not just the Darth and her entourage. Something about keeping the loyalty of a favored pet by Jess’ understanding. One more level and the pair would be at the front of the Fort.

***

Now...


The massive metal doors sat at the edge of the crater into Fort Bennick. When Tesa hit the switch to open them, a great boom would sound as the door mechanism clanked to life. Slowly they would begin to slide open, a strong gust of wind rushing to billow Jessoin’s robe. His brilliant green eyes would stare out into the horrors that spanned for miles. A sea of pale bodies tearing into screaming, desperately fighting soldiers. Pairs of Jedi and Sith, back to back fending off rakghouls until simply being overwhelmed and devoured. Yet as the mass of ghouls pressed closer and closer to the fort, Jessoin could see the last group of survivors running for their lives through the rubble towards him.

“You close the doors when you know I won’t have any more time, T. I trust you’ll leave me enough time.”

His voice crackled as Jessoin peered over to send her a wink. Her amber gaze turned from his to rest on the expanse of incoming pale flesh. Consciously she gripped her lightsaber a little harder, her thumb resting beside the ignition slider. “If the door closes with you outside it, you will become monster food.”

With a step forward he began to let his presence flow out to plant roots into the Tarisian darkness. Massive wells of dark energies hung lazily all around, melding with his mind to begin pouring into Jessoin as he calmly strode. Lightning cracked above, and the heavy rain drowned out some of the screaming from everywhere. Recognizing the whelp that Darth Novus favored, the Sith waved for them to run towards him. The rakghouls weren’t far behind, some literally nipping at the group’s heels as they ran for their lives.

Breathing deeply, the smell of wet stone filled Jessoin’s mask as the dark side swelled within his chest. Almost unbearable to receive, the torrential amounts of fear and death crackled in the Force as the Sith drank it in. The zelosian would shake out one hand, a small jolt of pent up lightning escaped a finger to fizzle in the rain. Thunder boomed, and a hissing laugh would sound from Jessoin as both arms began to rise with palms spread open. Feeling the energies of the planet around him, the Sith’s eyes would drift closed as he listened to Taris. A moment before they would slide open, his once green eyes now a blood red as the dark side soaked him through.

A cruel cackle would be given before Jessoin reached with the Force into the clouds above. He balled his hands into fists, sparks of electricity showering off them before the Sith aggressively brought both arms down. In a blinding flash a massive bolt of lightning slammed down into the rakghouls behind Vance and his party. The following crack of thunder was utterly deafening, the haunting echo of Jessoin’s laughter muted by the ringing.

A violent thrust of his hands would arc bolts of electricity into the ghouls. He would begin to alternate hands, sending bolt after bolt of searing lightning into the pale tide. The group would seem to begin to break away, pride fueling Jessoin to further assert his power over the beasts by drawing even deeper into the darkness. The bursts of Force lightning would become longer, ropes of violet energies frying and shocking the rakghoul lines.

“Hurry fools!”

Jessoin would bark as he began to backpedal, the survivors nearly to the doors. Yet with them came the rakghouls. There simply wasn’t much more time to give them. Drawing a breath, Tesa fed her energy toward Jessoin to help him sustain his assault. Then she stretched out her arm and pulled the locking mechanism free.

From behind him could hear the boom of the door mechanisms begin to work again. They were out of time. With a hiss the zelosian would renew his assault, watching the survivors run past him as the Sith worked to hold the tide back.

The survivors pelted past Tesa’s scrutinizing gaze. Some of the survivors collapsed upon entering, their heaving chests signs of their effort. Fear and confusion ran among them, and Tesa drew on it for strength. She eyeballed the closing doors and stepped back into the fort. Looking between the narrowing gap, a small ball of ice began to form as she looked at Jessoin’s purple silhouette against the rain of lightning.

He could feel Tesa’s anxiety begin to rise, and knew his time was almost up. Jess cast a look back, seeing the doors were nearly closed. With a burst the Sith launched backwards, a Force assisted leap catapulting the zelosian back. He landed, another burst and a spin in mid air would send Jessoin to flip through the narrow gap of the bay doors just before they slammed shut behind him. The Sith would land, both arms thrown open wide as if he had just performed some sort of magic trick. Glowing red eyes gleamed gleefully as Jessoin stared the survivors down.

“Now how was that for some thrilling heroics? Welcome to Fort Bennick.”
With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Tesa approached his side. “Were any of you bit or maimed?”

[Meira]

This wasn't war. Contrary to what some might believe, she'd seen war. War was brutal and terrible. War was hell. This was worse. This was pure, unadulterated chaos. This was madness. Her hands, her arms were covered in the grime and soot of Taris' ruined landscape. It mingled with her blood in the various cuts that marred her skin. Her hair fell in a matted mess from the bun she'd tied it into that very morning. She'd been clean then.

When the sun rose, Meira Valli had made a choice. She'd cleaned herself up, dawned freshly cleaned robes, and chose to go to war. Master Took had been in her thoughts as she meditated. Flashes of their last encounter danced through her mind... the comfort he'd offered, and the request that she had refused. As lost as she'd felt then, the choice had been clear. She could not follow him. But when the sun rose, Meira Valli found herself on that path anyway. Maybe Master Took had been right all along. He'd seen that this was unavoidable and decided sooner was the same as later in the end. As she dawned the light armor provided to her, Meira knew that she would not have changed her choice, given the chance to go back to that moment. It had been the right one for her, at the time.

She clenched her hands, folding her fingers into fists and then releasing, over and over. The tremble would not cease. Her heart still raced, hammering against her rib cage. Her mouth was dry. Around her, the transport shuddered as the engines built up power. The ramp was closing and the sun was setting. This was going to be the last evacuation run for the day. Bodies were all around her, in various stages of exhaustion and death. These were the ones permitted aboard. How many had been left behind? How many had been changed?

"Leave her alone!"

Meira lifted her head to see a man, a medic's insignia emblazoned on his uniform, pushing another man away from the body of a woman. The other pressed forward again, but the medic drew his sidearm. At this, Meira and two others stood, ready to react.

"I said I checked her! She was cut by debris! She's not infected!" His eyes were bloodshot, from grief or exhaustion... she couldn't tell.

"My orders are to check everyone myself."

The ship lifted from the ground and all those standing suddenly found themselves stumbling for their balance as it was rocked sideways. Rakghouls! Came a voice over the comms. The man who'd been trying to check the woman turned, moving quickly to a view port. He then shouted for two others to move to the light guns. The ship continued to shake and Meira moved toward the cockpit.

"They're gonna pull us down! Shake 'em!" the pilot shouted.

"Hang on!" came the reply from the copilot.

The ship dipped hard to the left, and then the right. Meira grabbed an overhead rail to keep from being thrown. The sound of bodies tumbling across the hull signaled that the maneuver had done the trick. Meira breathed a sigh of relief along with the two pilots.

"We'll be only a few minutes now, ma'am." the pilot said, seeing her. She nodded and turned to return to her seat when a scream came from the hold, followed by another, and then another. She reached for her lightsaber, but did not activate it. The cockpit was far to small for anything but the most basic of movements with the blade. She could not risk injuring the pilots.

Moving forward, Meira came suddenly face to face with woman the medic had been protecting. Or, at least... she used to be that woman. The rakghoul barreled into Meira, sending the young knight crashing into the wall of the corridor that separated the cockpit from the hold. The wind rushed from her lungs, dazing Meira for a moment as the rakghoul bounded past. She recovered, rushing back and igniting the violet blade of her lightsaber. There was a hiss as she swiped the blade horizontally, severing the creature's head from its body. But she was too late.

The pilot's throat was missing and blood poured from the wound angry spurts, soaking his chest and the controls in front of him. The copilot was still alive, but his face had been slashed and he could do no more than breathe in quick, shallow gasps. The controls were going haywire. Where the panel was not smashed, lights were flashing and alarms were sounding. Meira heaved the beast out of the way, grunting with the effort, and reached for the controls just as the ship began to pitch forward. She pulled back as hard as she could, but sparks exploded from the panel and the whole ship began to dip left. She could barely register the high walls and closing gates ahead as she pulled and tried to slow the ship's descent. She wasn't sure they'd clear the walls and was almost certain they'd not make the gates. They were the last thing she saw.

The ship hit, the sound of metal grinding and tearing filled the air. The stabilizer wings were ripped from the fuselage and fell to the ground outside the gate. What remained of the ship slammed into the ground inside the bay. It slid across the duracrete floor before coming to a stop and tipping sideways, finally at rest.

[DreadPirateMike]

"So, another hundred miles of this, tops. After that, we're in the clear."

Jaidan had to wince at how exhausted he sounded as he yanked his spear free of the umpteenth Rakghoul who'd thought him a tasty snack. Evidently, the stinking bastards thought it was too brilliant a notion to be wrong forever, and at this point, he had to concede they might be onto something. He could barely even work up the energy to be repulsed by the stench anymore, though to be fair, that may just be that it was blending with the natural fragrance of the sewer tunnel. Xierra, for her part, elected not to waste the energy on a response.

He wasn't an idiot. He'd pretty much known by perhaps half past noon that victory in any sense here was a fantasy, yet he'd refused to entertain the idea of flight so long as there was still something to be accomplished by fighting on. It was just a matter of choosing the right targets. So he'd fallen back and thrown himself into the furious delaying actions that had bought time for...he had no idea how many had escaped. He chose to believe the number was something big and round. Something to make him feel marginally better about giving up his own chance at getting out that way. That was the problem with being all noble and whatnot; sure, the big sacrifice seemed nice and heroic in your head, and the feeling of fulfillment was real enough in the moment. But then came the moment after. The deed was done, and he still found that he'd kind of like to not die.

Chancing to meet up with Xierra had been one bright spot, at least. One Jedi was formidable; two Jedi had managed to convince each other that the right plan might yet be worth a damn. Hand weapons, not lightsabers; no light, no signature hum, no smell of charred meat to summon a few dozen of that Rakghoul's friends to the feast. Move along the high ground; from the upper stories of some of these ruined structures, they could get a better view of where the creatures were the most concentrated, and their scents were less likely to immediately give them away. From there, the idea was to find some defensible position, secure a signal beacon for eventual evac, and then begin a sweep for survivors.

It worked well enough at first, while one could still find the occasional street more or less empty of the monsters. Soon enough, however, their areas of concentration included...just about everywhere, and ironically, the only place they found themselves able to move at all with any chance of relative stealth was their hunters' very place of origin. There were still Rakghouls aplenty, impossible as it seemed given their numbers on the surface, but for once, those damnable devices of Novus' worked in their favor. So focused on breaking out into the dying light, it had proved difficult but possible to escape their notice. They'd had no luck getting their original plan back on track, but if they could just get some distance from this place before the Rakghouls exhausted the food supply up top...

And that was about when the sound of dozens upon dozens of running feet came reverberating through the confined service tunnel. Evidently, an exit lay just up ahead. And there was more. Voices. Sentient voices, exhorting their fellows to speed, answered in vastly greater quantity by the rapid screeches behind them...and behind Xierra and Jaidan, further back into the tunnel. Leaving them nowhere to go but out into the open.

Well...there was no death.

"I believe that's my sixth wind." he said to Xierra with a smile, some of the weariness seeming to lift from him. The smart money said there wasn't much further to run now.


************

Zarander. And fashionably late to the party, it seemed. That show of power was not the gesture of a man who'd earned his survival this day. Well, fine. What he and his better half had missed was the transformation of a place of stubborn hope, where men and women had sought to rebuild and make lives anew into...a charnel house. Beyond those great durasteel doors lay a place where life had been wasted on a scale that he doubted anyone here had truly begun trying to process.

It would have been bliss for him. Whatever the reason, Jaidan took some small comfort in knowing the (For lack of a better term.) man had been denied at least one sick pleasure. What precisely that reason might have been was a question well worth investigating. He didn't think he'd been recognized just yet, rather one more face lost in a crowd. But given the chaos which had engulfed this place, nor could either Sith have reasonably expected everyone here would be a loyal citizen of the Empire. And yet, aside from an entirely reasonable dose of caution in Tesa's question, to which he gave simply a shake of his head, there seemed no indication of any imminent ill intent. Or rather, any obvious readiness to act on it.

He was STILL pondering what all this might portend when it became rather dramatically apparent that the excitement hadn't ended entirely just yet. The sound of vainly straining repulsor lifts assaulted the ear nearly as effectively as Jessoin's thunderclap a moment earlier. Once the cause of all the din became clear, he instinctively cast a quick look at their "hosts" and quickly concluded this hadn't been part of their plan. All the more reason to check it out, then. But as he passed his former prisoner, he was not above a quick clap on the Zelosian's shoulder. Tired, sore and hurting he may be. But he'd been granted the luxury of thinking of something other than his immiment survival, and so he'd not allow a Sith the pleasure of thinking him cowed.

"It WAS an impressive show, Zarander. As good as your escape act. But I think your entrance was just upstaged."

With that, he took off at a trot for the shuttle's final resting place, lightfoils already in hand to help him make a quick entrance. He could sense life yet aboard...and something about it felt disturbingly familiar.

[Ash]

Lancer was exhausted from fighting throughout the day, and taking plenty of his own hits, most of which were already healed. He was starving, a side affect of his metabolism and healing factor, as well as general exhaustion. He took bites of food when he could, but he needed a break.

Earlier, Gae Buidhe was damaged, and he had to gut the pike, and stuck a short vibro-sword in it, melting the metal together. It worked, but wasn't near as well off as the red spear in his right hand.

Now, he was working with a pair of Jedi, fending off Rakghouls as survivors of both sides rushed towards the opening gate behind them, leading to the fort, and their last way of escape from this blasted planet.

As the doors began to close, he and the Jedi turned and began to run, Lancer using the force to accelerate his movement as much as he could, which was a fair amount. He made it safely, as did one of his Jedi partners, but the second was locked out. He looked over at Jessoin, who spoke to the survivors.

I hope this little welcoming party has food.

Immediately after that, half a ship hit hard not to far away. Lancer felt life still within, so he continued there, along with a few others.

Unlike Jaidan, Lancer didn't have a lightsaber out, but kept his spears handy. There were plenty of tears in the hull, allowing him to use the force to widen them as they neared. Leading with his left side forward, he entered near the cockpit, heading right for the head of the craft.

Anyone still alive in here?

[Mara]

[...from Cold Space]

Her memories of the last several hours were like a fragmented holovid, damaged beyond repair. Brief flashes and blurs in the remaining few frames that had escaped destruction. They all ran together in her mind, and she could no longer discern its chronology. Snippets of the Falleen Knight and her fellow Blades fighting against the Sith. War preparations yet again, in the pre-dawn light, this time on Taris. The sickening familiar screams of the rakghouls. Lightsaber blades humming and blazing in a deadly kaleidoscope among the raindrops. A heap of rubble squashing the mindless new enemy. Everywhere, death.

Currently, Xierra found herself below ground accompanied by another Jedi, an Echani older than she and slighter of frame. But with his age came experience, and she had been grateful for his sudden appearance--when he had arrived, she couldn't rightly put a finger on--beside her. In the briefest of moments she had allowed herself to even feel the elation of an ally before it had been back to the carnage-filled trenches. Fighting off the hideous rakghouls to ensure her own survival in this chaotic mess that had once between a straightforward invasion and now was a desperate struggle to merely stay alive for one more second.

For the moment, though, they were unmolested, alone together in what could only have been a sewer tunnel, judging by the odors the Falleen was picking up. But she didn't much care; given all that had already happened, this was nothing. Plus, she and Jaidan--this was no time for formality and she addressed him by his given name, as he did her--likely smelled just as badly, covered in blood and gore and who knew what else. Her brown and sodden cloak was long gone, torn away and left behind during a fight--with a Sith or a rakghoul, she couldn't recall--and she was clad only in her traditional beige Jedi tunics and trousers, also much the worse for wear. But her remaining wet clothing reeked in the moist air, starting to steam as it slowly dried.

Xierra was breathing heavily, exhausted to the very core of her being, and trying to regain the little strength she had left during this temporary respite. She was regretting her decision to come to Taris. The Jedi had told herself that after Gargon she needed some time to herself, time to rest and recuperate and get her health, mental and physical, back in order. But when the call had come through, she hadn't been able to turn it down. Hadn't even dwelt on the choice for more than a second or two. Her duty as a member of the Order had been too great; she was here because of her damnable loyalty. And maybe in some sick corner of her head, she enjoyed the violence and action.

She stood with the weight off of her right leg, keeping alert for more rakghouls; the one Jaidan had just dispatched would most definitely have friends aching for revenge, if these mindless drones had such a concept. An old injury was resurfacing and causing her some pain, not to mention creating a fairly obvious limp. Earlier, she had removed her boots and tossed them aside, leaving her in her bare feet, and the release of pressure had helped somewhat. With her rough and scaly reptilian skin, Xierra could survive against the hard city streets and detritus without footwear. The more comfortable she was, the longer she would last in this never-ending battle.

The inevitable sound of reinforcements snapped her out of the reverie. Both of them spun around, drawing their weapons once again. Ready to face another onslaught. Though much deadlier, her lightsaber hilt dangled unlit at her side and instead she held her two bo staffs.  When the first rakghouls had appeared, she had had no qualms about slaughtering them with the energy blade. Just as she had back on the isolated research station weeks ago, the first time she had encountered the foul beasts. But she had soon discovered it had also acted as a calling card, an invitation. So she had switched tactics, leaving herself just the Force and her fancy rods, trying for any advantage, however small, she could manage.

Then there was another sound, this time from above. Xierra set her jaw, thinking it was more rakghouls, meaning to surround them and corner them down here in this death trap of a tunnel that had formerly offered sanctuary. But as she reached out with the Force to confirm, she did not feel the sickening presence of the rakghouls. Healthy beings, lots of them, pounding the duracrete, yelling in unintelligible words but sane words in Basic nonetheless. Jaidan hadn't had to tell her twice that it was time to exit the sewer and head back to the surface; better to die in the open than be buried underground. And had she heard "fort" being shouted?

They quickly joined the crowd of others running in the downpour, merging in with the running survivors being chased by still more rakghouls. The odds were slightly better out here in the open. Instead of two to a couple hundred, it was a few dozen to well over a thousand. It took all of her energy and strength as well as a heavy pull on the Force for Xierra to keep up with everyone. She barely registered the others around her; her only focus was keeping ahead of the rakghouls long enough to reach the safety of the large fortress ahead, mercifully having still survived.

And then, after a few tense minutes, she was inside with the rest of them, and the big heavy doors were being shut against the furious horde. She felt no shame in bending over, gasping in breath, hands on her flexed knees; so many others around here were doing the same, unused to such unrelenting exertion. Even with the Force as an ally, Xierra was spent. The Jedi hated to think how the innocent civilians had fared against the rakghouls without the Force to aid them; those citizens were probably the very same rakghouls out there, pounding on the walls.

Soon, she was upright once again, the cooling rain soothing her while it soaked her.  Xierra's dark eyes took in her surroundings, catching details for the first time in what seemed like forever. And then she stopped cold. There were Sith in here, everywhere. Was this a trap? Her heart clenched, and her hand reached involuntarily towards her lightsaber. But then confusion took over, as she noticed that the Sith were not attacking... the Jedi were not attacking... They seemed to be working... in tandem. It was... peaceful, despite the setting there will still ensconced in.  

An old saying came to her mind, something her former master had told her: The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Was that what was going on here? Two sets of enemies brought together and united by a common enemy, the rakghouls? Xierra was uneasy about this truce, if that was what this was, to say the least. She knew she couldn't trust a Sith as far as she could throw one. However, she brought her hand back away from her weapon, willing to go along with the facade for the moment, just as Jaidan appeared to be doing. It seemed to be the only way at the moment to stay alive. But the second a Sith made a wrong move...

Sounds of screaming, wrenching metal forced her to look upwards, afraid of a new strategy by the rakghouls. But instead she saw a shuttle, smoking, heading right for a crash-meeting with the fort. Xierra's dark eyes caught Jaidan heading in that direction. There was a moment of indecision as she glanced around herself, sensed outward with the Force, and then turned and jogged limply after him. She had felt the brief presence of the light side of the Force before losing it; there was a Jedi inside that wreck. And if there was a choice of hanging out with a bunch of Sith who might later kill her after the rakghouls were dealt with, if ever, and saving one of her own, she would take her chances with the crash victim.

Someone else had just ducked inside a large hole in the fuselage as Xierra arrived, followed by Jaidan. With all the different Force users around, light and dark, it was hard to discern which this other had been. Coming up to the gaping makeshift hatch, she slowed. Rakghouls. She sighed deeply. Of course, this couldn't be a simple search-and-rescue. Now they had to take care of more of these fiends before they infected all the survivors inside the fort. Not to mention save the Jedi and any others within. With a deep calming breath, a tug of the Force, she plucked off one of her bo staffs, pressed the hidden button to extend it, and stepped into the unknown dimness.

[Fromikeable]

Vance could barely make out the doors far in front of them cracking open, a single form walking out of them. Between his ragged breathing, his utter focus on the monstrosities behind him, and what was quickly becoming a very regular sense of doom (he’d felt such since he’d landed planet-side that morning), he couldn’t exactly give a lot of attention to the individual, instead only interpreting the doors’ opening as the next place to sprint to.

Ergo, the lightning that started blasting down from the storm clouds shocked him, both literally and physically.

But the ex-padawan could only run, his eardrums screaming in protest as the air above him was forced to smash together. Another bolt came searing down, closer to him, he swore. Then another. Then another. The smell of iron flooded the air. Every hair on his body stood tall and alert, as if trying to coax the bolts straight at him. He even considered turning off his saber, not able to recall its physics well enough to know whether or not it might work as an accidental lightning rod.

So when he and his party got to the doors, he lunged in, landing on his stomach and rolling like a stone. By the time his momentum subsided and his finally lay limp on his side, he was in a coughing fit, desperately trying to fill his lungs as the doors creaked closer and closer shut, the rakghouls threatening to stop them if they moved even a millisecond slower. Fortunately they didn’t, and as the thunder-caller landed with a dramatic maneuver, an overly-loud sigh (really more of a groan) escaped Vance as he coughed once again for air.

Finally he looked up, still catching his breath.

Oh what the f- Of course it was these two psychos. His face must’ve told quite a sour story; Tesa and Jessoin had to be two of his least favorite people in the galaxy. Both were so deep in Sith mantra and values, he was amazed at first that they were shoved up Darth Eurachris’s ass deep enough to no longer see their feet. In fact he’d hoped so; today he had endured enough with a lightning-happy madman and his disconnected girlfriend showing up only to undoubtedly make things harder.

On the other hand, they had just saved his and everyone else’s life. He had a sinking suspicion that hadn’t been done from the goodness of their hearts though.

So at Jess’s self-appreciate, Vance shook his head, focusing on another few coughs to keep himself from saying anything. When a legitimate question was posed, his hands quickly patted his own body, checking for any new holes.

“I thi-” Another cough, followed by him sitting up and panting a few more times before mustering, “I think we’re good.” Just as he was about to ask the rest of his companions, a brand new sound grew in his ears; a gradually closing whir of broken parts and struggling repulsors. When it got close enough to be deafening, there was the tell-tale sound of impact and crumbling mortar, followed by a second as the other sounds ceased, leaving only the hum of intense fire.

Vance could only think of one thing as he stumbled to get up, watching as others were quicker than he in responding. Looking at Jess, he cringed, asking with a painfully lifted brow, “Please tell me that wasn’t your ship.”

[Dutch]

Jessoin's chuckle at the weary sass turned towards him ceased as the Force tugged at his thoughts with a warning. Seconds before the shuttle came crashing down, the Sith would turn with one hand spread. Bits of wreckage bounced harmlessly off the shield blocking himself and Tesa, his other hand beginning to channel currents of electricity within its palm in case of attack. Yet none came as the dust settled. Jessoin dispelled the lightning with a flick of his hand, the other lowering and the shield with it.

"It WAS an impressive show, Zarander. As good as your escape act. But I think your entrance was just upstaged."

"Yes well, that does happen doesn't it Shatani." Jessoin replied as the Jedi turned to go assist with any survivors. "But a true performer saves his best acts for later..." His voice crooned mechanically through his vocabulator. The zelosian turned his still red eyes down to Tesa, the dark energies within beginning to ebb into something more controlled. Red shifted brazen, his iris' for the briefest moment the same shade as hers until the familiar glowing green of his species returned. A quick wink was given to Tesa before he turned to regard the wreckage and those who went to aid it before Novus' whelp spoke.

“Please tell me that wasn’t your ship.”

"Gather your wits, boy." The Sith started with a turn of his head to better see Vance, looking the boy up and down as if to size him up. A single long finger would lift to point at the very obvious Republic insignia plastered across the left side of the shuttle cockpit. He would step closer, that same finger moving to press into the center of the teen's chest.

"There's no room for one who can't hold together. Take your fear, feed on it, and use it to get yourself out of here alive. We won't drag you." Jessoin hissed, another prod given at the end to accent his point. Hearing nothing coming from the wreckage, the Sith never looked away from Vance menacingly as he stepped around him. He moved with purpose away from the wreck that burned behind him, ignoring the heat of any flames as he strode for the gateway that lead to the rest of the fort. He didn't need to look back to see if Tesa would follow, he knew she wouldn't be far behind.

"We have two shuttles waiting in the bay atop the tower. If you want a spot on one, don't fall behind." Jessoin crooned cruelly, his pace never slowing as he marched forward. At the gate, he used a push of the Force to flip the door panel. An audible click and the door would swing open, revealing a pitch black hall. At the threshold would lay a corpse, perhaps once twi'lek strewn in red gore where the light from the hangar shown in.

"...Right. There may or may not be pockets of rakghouls within. Stick with Tesa and I, and we'll ensure you arrive to the shuttles alive."

[Squee]

The survivors’ verbal admittance of no wounded momentarily satisfied Tesa. Of course, she didn’t believe them all. No one would admit to being halfway to rakghoul. She breathed deeply as she pressed outward with the Force to touch each individual through either their fear or despair. Tesa silently searched for signs of ephemerality.

“Eat a rakghoul.” she countered to one of the Sith. A quick flick of her gaze, Tesa judged him without damage and looked to the next person.

Half a heartbeat later, she felt the ripple, amplified through Jessoin. She cast a brief glance at him as her lightsaber leapt back to her hand. The purple blade hissed to life as his barrier projected protectively around them. Positioning herself at his back, Tesa sent a wave of gratefulness toward Jessoin, watching as bits of rubble bounced way. The larger pieces she captured and held at a floating ready.

The air cleared and no further danger presented itself, physically or through the Force. The lightsaber extinguished at the same time as the lightning, effectively snuffing the purple light. With a little manipulation of her hand, Tesa lowered the floating debris gently to the ground.

“Just a ship,” she reported. “A very crashed ship.” Then a voice chilled her blood. His name growled through her head, tainted with the influence of disgust and hatred. Shatani. Amber eyes swiveled around to rest upon the pale-haired man. The muscle of her jaw tightened as she made eye contact with him. The galaxy was big, the lessons had repetitively told her. Not big enough, obviously. Jessoin responded to the man’s jibe amicably enough, and she felt her lover’s impression to relax. Though Tesa said nothing, she was sure the sour expression on her face was enough for Shatani to understand.

As he jogged away, Tesa rounded her gaze onto Jessoin. “Of course he’s here,” she hissed. “Where else would he fracking be? Of course.” As his red irises faded into an orange-gold, Tesa felt the dark side ebb and dilute. With a large, frustrated sigh, Tesa glared after Shatani. “ … He’s the first to get eaten.”

“Please tell me that wasn’t your ship.”

Tesa opened her mouth but Jessoin spoke first. “No,” she said to Vance, before the berating started. Vance had spent years with the Jedi, learning their doctrine and studying their ways of emotional management. He wasn’t going to know how to use fear, only how to manage it. No doubt Jessoin had forgotten how he’d changed his ways since being a Jedi and how long that may have taken. Tesa grasped his forearm before he prodded the young man again. “Jessoin, you are contributing to the ‘not helping’ scheme.

“Or,” Tesa said, as Jessoin walked away. Her gaze settled on Vance briefly as they began to walk. “Do what’s most comfortable. Jessoin likes to be… emotional. I prefer to keep my personal emotion at a minimum and enjoy the clarity of control. However, it is useful to know how to use your emotions. You do not have to become a murderous, rage-monster, Vance. Only some have the ability to do that.” She extended her hand to present Jessoin’s receding back. “You have a choice. There is always a choice. And so you choose what you like, what you’re good at, and you exploit it to your advantage. Hm…”

A dark hall had been opened and a corpse was their greeting. Tesa looked over her shoulder, to the shaken mix of Republic and Sith. The Jedi had gone to crash site, as well as one of the Sith’s own. Some soldiers had moved to follow Jessoin, others to the wreckage. Other, less confident soldiers were standing, looking betwixt the two sides, torn between morality and the basic necessity to escape, survive.

After a moment’s consideration, Tesa approached Jessoin, persuasive words primed on her tongue. Likely, he could already guess what she was about to discuss. “There are a fair number of Republic. For now, it might be better not to make enemies of them. Wouldn’t you say? The Jedi will always choose morality over survival. You should know that better than I.” Give me time to make a plan. We did not know Novus’ apprentice would rescue any and all he could find.

She turned then, and began walking back toward the wreckage, though it prickled her to be closer to Shatani. “Survivors?”

[Meira]

Her hearing was the first thing that returned. It came fast and sharp, a ringing from somewhere at the center of her brain that radiated outward and drowned out everything else. Her eyes fluttered, at first seeing only blurs of color; grey and red swirled around her. She blinked, over and over, until the moving colors settled. When they did, they formed the soot and bloodstained face of the copilot.

Angry red gashes oozed near-black blood. His wide eyes were a shock of white against the rest, surrounding pale, gentle green irises. His mouth opened and closed, like some landed fish forgetting how to breathe. She wanted to turn, to look away, but a weight held her fast in the moment with him. Slowly, she reached a hand toward him, finding his own, unseen, but holding tight to it. His hand did not squeeze hers back, but she still held until the light faded from his eyes and his lips ceased in their attempts to remember.

There was a groan of metal, followed by the sound of voices that shook Meira from the spell of death and brought her mind back to the present. The weight atop her suddenly became known to her. Grinding her teeth, she shoved with all her strength, but it was not enough. Taking a breath, she set herself to the task once more, this time calling on the force to aid her. The decapitated corpse submitted, reluctantly at first, to her efforts. With a growl, Meira managed to heave the ghoul up and pushed it away. The lifeless corpse launched toward the cockpit entrance, just as a figure came clambering through, shouting.

“Here.” she called, her breath loathe to assist her in the answer.

Now free of her burden, Meira glanced around the wreck of the cockpit, doing her best not to idle her eyes on the bodies of the pilots, in search of her lightsaber. She spotted it quickly and called it to herself, the hilt flying to her hand as she looked up to see the being that had come. At this time, her senses were beginning to return and Meira could feel the tingle in her spine that sang of danger. But there was another sensation, one of familiarity as well.

“Who are you?” she demanded, holding her lightsaber ready, but still lifeless. It was dark; only sparks illuminated the small cockpit in fretful bursts that faded too quickly. “Who else is here?”

[DreadPirateMike]

Jaidan's approach to the crashed ship slowed when it became apparent he had company, but only momentarily. Shooting Xierra a quick look, he nodded silently toward the Sith, an unspoken request that she watch him. Simple precaution only, of course. Then, he was on the move once more for the hath into the main hold, and a quick inspection revealed it had, indeed, been warped by the crash and now stood resistant to any attempt at opening. Fortunately, "resistant" was always a relative term. Giving the door three sharp raps with the butt of his lightfoil, waiting a beat, and then repeating the process, he judged that a pretty good "all clear", then ignited both blades and thrust them through the hull.

It only took him a moment to cut the hatch free. Taking both now deactivated foils in his left hand, he stepped off to the side, made a sweeping gesture with his right, and tore the hatch free. Waiting a moment for the clatter of the flying slab of durasteel to fade, he called out before stepping back into the entryway, and then the hold beyond.

"I'm Republic!" The announcement was born of both a recognition of the shuttle's design, and a knowledge that any potentially armed and conscious veteran inside would share. A non-red lightsaber did not necessarily make its bearer a Jedi. "Hold your fire!"

Wise or not, the precaution proved unnecessary. Some of the lighting fixtures were still functioning back here, and revealed a few infantrymen stirring, but still too dazed to be remotely trigger happy. Even so, he concentrated on looking with the Force rather than his unaided eyes, and so identified those beyond all help. That left five. The nearest two, thankfully, appeared only a bit the worse for wear. Minor cuts and scratches, little bruises which would later blossom into large ones, but nothing requiring immediate attention, and so he stepped past them in favor of the other three.

One was still unconscious, but would recover. Jaidan left him be, for the moment; he wouldn't be summoning him back into anything pleasant. He proceeded in like fashion with the Togruta vomiting spiritedly in the corner. All his power to intervene had to be reserved for the whimpering kid, clutching a gash across his abdomen in a futile attempt to stanch the flow of blood.

"Forgive me." he entreated softly, kneeling eye to eye with him and receiving a look of confusion mixed in with the fear and pain. All three faded as Jaidan's nerve pinch silenced him; the lad did not want to be conscious to see the Jedi's shoto ignite, much less feel it cauterizing the wound. He was very nearly done when a commotion off behind him told him that trigger happiness wasn't entirely absent after all.

"You lying bastard!" The snarling armored Twi'lek screamed as he forced a field medic up against the bulkhead.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"You lying, poxy schutta! You killed us! The least I can do is-"

Sadly, they would never get to discover just what constituted the Twi'lek's notion of reciprocity. Strong, black gloved hands firmly took hold of the armor's equipment harness, a moment before the soldier in it was hauled away and thrown roughly back against the opposite bulkhead. The wind was knocked out of him by the jolt, and he found himself able to get only a small portion of it back on account of the Echani forearm pressed up against his throat.

"General!" He croaked in shock, coming to his senses once his initial struggles had gained him nothing but increased pressure.

"Just so, Corporal. Now stand down."

"But he-"

"Killed you. I heard. Now be silent and listen carefully, because events are moving quickly. We're inside the fort, but there are Sith here, their intent as uncertain as our time before the horde catches up to us. I'll leave it to you what all that means. Either we are one unit, our bonds unbreakable as Mandalorian Iron, or you can disobey a direct order. Which, if I'm not mistaken, would make you a mutineer in time of war, and me the commanding officer who must pass sentence. Am I understood?"

At no point had Jaidan's voice deviated from its even, civil tome, yet the weak nod he was met with suggested his point had been well taken.

"Excellent." Jaidan dropped the soldier back to the deck, and strode forward toward the cockpit, raising his voice as he went. "Medic, see to the wounded. I'm quite certain your comrade will render any assistance you need."

[Ash]

Lancer took a step back as a body came his way. He had a firm grasp on it with the force to keep it at bay before he realized that it was missing something quite important: its head.

Before continuing fully into the cockpit, he heard some shouting from the main area somewhere behind him; so there were some survivors back there as well. He himself went forward as a voice called out.

Lancer closed his yellow spear, hooking it to his back due to the extra length of sword at the tip, and knelt down next to the woman who voiced that she was alive. she was the only one left alive here, everyone else dead one way or another: probably due to that rakghoul which was obviously flung his way. A quick glance told him that she wasn't bitten by the pale monster, but something could have been hidden beyond his eyesight.

I'm Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, one of the last survivors. I'm with others; Republic, Jedi, and Sith alike, and we're getting ready to get off that rock if you want a free ride. Are you well enough to travel right now or do you need help?

The orange eyed man held out a hand to the jedi, a light smile on his face if one was able to see it from the sparks sprayed out from the ruined consoles.

[Fromikeable]

Vance couldn’t help but blink at the sourness Jess met his question with, the prodding finger and condescending tone feeling belittling, particularly after the day he’d had and was apparently still having. We won’t drag you? He’d picked himself up after having his skull caved in, and he’d found not only found a Jedi Master, but then he’d found a Sith Lady in order to tell her about it. Sure, he hadn’t exactly displayed a whole lot of grace or finesse today, but..

… for Force’s sake, didn’t he deserve at least a little credit? He bit back a sigh; maybe it was just luck. But by statistics, he should’ve died at least a dozen times today, and that was being conservative.

Picking himself up slowly as the madman walked around him (and biting his tongue just a little, if for no other reason than to keep from sighing at him), he would look up at the tower in question; atop it apparently sat salvation. He couldn’t help but frown though; Novus had surely told Jess of his own insistence, but… whether or not that insistence could be enforced, either by sheer will or (Force forbid) force of arms was yet to be determined. Maybe the Jedi cou-

Heh. The Jedi. He swallowed dryly, trying not to remind himself that he was no longer one of them. Few of them would regard him as their comrade no matter what he did, how he felt in the Force, or how he treated them. The lines had been drawn far before he’d ever met them, and it saddened him to think that he was forever on a side they would never even talk to were it not for imminent doom.

... maybe that can be fixed. Thinking quietly for a moment, his musings of… something stupid were interrupted by Tesa, better known to him as “the sane one” (though he used that term loosely). He knew very little about her; only that she was not only associated, but indeed shagging the lightning-jockey that had just scolded him for essentially being too nice.

She seemed to break the assumptions of association, luckily, actually speaking to him like… well, like someone who could have a conversation. Those were the little things that had kept him sane all through the day; people sometimes gained an odd kind of respect for others when faced with dismemberment, whether by rakghoul or saber.

“Exploitation isn't really a forte of mine.” He walked with her, his hands gently rubbing a few burns and aches he’d developed through the day that chose now as a good time to smart. “And you’re going to have to excuse me if I’m less than happy about being near a murderous rage-monster. Mostly because of the ‘murderous’ part.”

The ex-padawan sighed, glancing over at the shuttle as a Jedi he didn’t know disappeared into it, the sounds of talking (and then furious yelling) echoed out of it. “... but… I guess you’re right.” He hesitated for a minute to quiet the many terrified screaming voices in his head before breaking away from her, approaching the shuttle. Popping his head in, he found the Jedi, a male Echani, and a handful of terrified troopers, some hurt more than others.

So far today, the Echani had been... well, cooperative was a strong word. He still didn't know his name, or what he was doing on Taris, or why he had been fighting Novus, or even his rank. There hadn't been a whole lot of time to talk seeing as how he'd only just had enough time to give Novus the news before the rakghouls hordes had caught up with him, forcing both him and the Jedi to flee. As it was, he still had no idea where Novus was, how her injuries were. In a way that he didn't really understand... well, he hoped she was okay.

Ergo, he and this Echani had been the nucleus to the group that they had run in with. It was therefore more than a little awkward that he couldn't even profess to know what to call him.

“Um… hey…” Though he addressed them all, he was more squarely speaking to the Jedi, his presence clearly dancing with nerves. What did you say to someone who assumed that you were just another champion of destruction?

“... Uh…” Luckily Tesa beat him to essentially asking if they were alive, and he once again bit his tongue to keep from blathering on. He was quiet for a second before trying again.

“You guys need an-”

BOOM.

The sound of metal ringing filled the fort, as if someone had struck a giant rigid bell with a wrecking ball. The sound made Vance jump just a bit, withdrawing his head from the shuttle and looking around with observant, waiting eyes. For a few seconds there was nothing...

And then, like clockwork, there was the sound of rushing snarls in stereo, followed by a second massive impact. The gate to the outside trembled, filling the fort with sound again.

Evidently the crashing shuttle had rang the dinner bell, and hungry rakghouls were literally smashing at the gate in waves.

Without thinking, the ex-padawan popped his head back into the shuttle, his voice stressed and clearly concerned. “Grab anyone who can’t walk and move toward the tower.” He immediately popped out again, looking down toward the other end of the shuttle, wherein two people could be sensed.

“Hey, let’s go!” A third boom made the immediacy of the situation overwhelmingly apparent, the gates to the outside not only physically shaking, but denting inward. No one had to be an architect to see that they wouldn’t last another strike or two.

[Mara]

Inside the confined space, with durasteel between her and those within the fort proper, she could get a better handle on her sense of the Force. Xierra swept her gaze all around herself as she turned a slow circle, standing in place. Along with the muddled presences of a few survivors and/or rakghouls, there was Jaidan, just before her, as well as the Jedi, or at least light-side user she had originally sensed before the crash. And then there was that third figure she had been unsure of who had entered the mangled ship ahead of her and Jaidan.

The back of her neck prickled as she finally felt him and the familiar taint of the dark side which cloaked him. She flexed her fingers, adjusting the grip she had on her bo staff. Jaidan nodded her to the cockpit then before taking the opposite direction himself to search for survivors. Xierra tilted her own head to acknowledge that she understood. Even with this unsteady truce going on between them and the Sith army against the rakghouls, there was no telling what one might do to an injured being on the other side of the lines, getting him or her alone. Though numbers would dictate that she would do more good with Jaidan and the others, she realized that it was best for her to keep this Sith in her sights, despite the illogical nature of it.

Picking her way carefully through the mess created by the less-than-graceful landing of the shuttle, Xierra used her staff to prod a couple of corpses. By the look of them, they had already begun the transformation into rakghouls before being killed. And she just wanted to make double sure they wouldn't be jumping up and ambushing her once her back was turned. Satisfied, holding her rod out in front of her, she followed the Force towards the cockpit where she still felt two lifeforms, one light, one dark.

Just outside the cockpit hatch, she caught a woman's voice, scared and defiant, asking who was coming for her. It was the Jedi she had sensed. And kneeling over her was the one she had to be wary of, introducing himself as if he had just stopped for a cup of caf. The tall man who took the beautiful gift that was the Force and twisted it into something almost unrecognizable. Stepping into the space, she lowered her bo staff and moved her free hand in preparation to call her lightsaber to it if need be. Xierra hoped that this Sith wouldn't dare try something in the presence of two Jedi; even injured and exhausted, they would be formidable.

"And I'm Xierra Zalq, Jedi Knight." The introduction was just as much for the woman's benefit as it was for the Sith, as odd as it felt to speak them aloud, considering the circumstances. Though they likely had both felt her presence, Xierra wanted to give the other Jedi audio confirmation as well as any confirmation she had through the Force. In the darkness, visual evidence was out of the question; the Falleen could see perfectly with the gift of night sight from her reptilian genes, but she was well aware of the limitations of other species' vision.

"Let's get you out of here," she said, stepping back to allow the Sith to help up the woman and go through the hatch. Obviously Xierra would have preferred to assist the Jedi herself, not wanting that foul creature reeking of the dark side to touch her. But doing so would have required her to stand down one of her weapon hands, making her, and the other woman, just that more vulnerable to attack. No, she had decided to allow this Sith to go ahead with his suggestions, and she would be watching him with her dark eyes, ready to attack and defend if he made a wrong move.

[Dutch]

Jessoin huffed disdainfully at Tesa’s reasoning. His long arms turned to cross loosely before the Sith leaned to rest against the duracrete wall. As the others wasted their time digging for survivors, the zelosian let his emerald gaze wander the bay. Some sort of storage area by the look mostly for out dated tech. Older model Republic war droids sat still in ten by ten formation, a decommissioned hover tank and endless crates emblazoned with the Republic insignia.

“Some of these crates might hold something useful, we should-”

BOOM.

“... Damn.”

Less than a half a heartbeat and Jessoin could feel the ravenous hunger of the rakghoul swarm. Cursing the delayed group under his breath, the Sith fluidly pushed off the wall as his senses flowed outwards. Besides the staccato spikes of fear and anxiety coming from the crash and his own yellow annoyance at that entire group there was the hunger. Appalling, unending, torrential waves of stomach seizing hunger. In a way he found a simplistic beauty in it. There was nothing else to the wave that once again thundered into the bay doors.

BOOM.

No anger, no hatred. No pride nor even desire. Just pure, focused, unfiltered need to feed on flesh. It was so very dark. Jessoin had once read in the Sith Archives that the rakghoul plague was born of the dark side itself. With the elegant effectiveness of such a weapon he was inclined to agree. This was no simple virulent strain of mutating cannibalism, this was the perfect analogy for the Dark Side itself. Jessoin could feel it leaking into the fort from every crack and hole in the structure. Dark clouds like ink dropped into water would billow into the bay with each of the rakghoul’s attempts. It would flood even further with the third charge.

BOOM.

The dark energies gathered in great clouds that hung mid-air, heavy and low to the ground. Jessoin turned to look at Tesa, lingering on her a moment before they flicked back to the now dented bay doors. If the bay fell, it would be a massacre. They would all be devoured or worse, turned. With eyes transfixed onto the giant bay door he began to stroll forward. Straight through one of the clouds of darkness. The Sith inhaled and the cloud suddenly sprang to life around him, now hugging onto Jessoin’s presence he began to quicken his stride. Flicks of his wrists would cause the Force to twist and begin to pool into his form. The once great dark cloud was fully within him now. Only the ethereal tendrils of the Force coming off his body like black mist gave away what was stored and swelling within his chest. The very hunger that pressed to consume them. He could feel the rakghoul army prepare another charge.

They wouldn't have her.

Jessoin’s pace quickened to a run, letting the dark side build within him deeper and deeper as he sprinted. A whisper within the Force told him he was nearly out of time, and with a great push outwards he sent massive columns of dark energies forward. Like umber tornadoes they surged out and against the bay door with an audible whumph. The Sith snarled, mechanical and filled with static through the breath mask as the fourth attempt was made.

BOOM.

He stumbled back, yet the door held firm this round. Eyes glinting in victory he barked a laugh. Only to feel something different. There was no receding of the rakghouls to prepare again. Instead there was the scrabbling sound of claws over the entire door, more and more desperate as the howls began. The sustained groan of metal resisting against one massive relentless push was the worst sound Jessoin could hear. He turned a quick look to Tesa. Mixed anger, fear and desperation took his eyes as their iris’ slowly went from green to gold.

“Run!”

He hissed before the Force roared within him anew. With both hands held forwards he pushed the energies out against the slowly bending durasteel door. It groaned in protest at the new force pressing, but stilled with great effort from the Sith. Beads of sweat quickly built and began to slide down his brow, the gold of his iris’ dappled with red now as he cried out in defiance as the rakghoul’s pushing became even more frenzied. And Jessoin pushed back.

[Squee]

“Bite this,” she said to the soldier. He looked at her quizzically as she held up a piece of white linen pinched between bloodied fingers.

His face was a mix of white and green, giving him a pallor reminisce of Jessoin’s skin tone. “Just use the biofoam,” he said.

Tesa shook her head stiffly and continued impatiently. “It is broken. The bone is poking out. See?” The color faded a bit more from his face. “I can mend it well enough for travel. Bite.” She shoved the cloth closer to his face. “Or you’ll be forever hallowed as the man who shrieks like a girl.”

The man complied and accepted the gag. His good hand clasped with his concerned companion’s, who was crouched beside them. Tesa paid them no heed as the Force responded to her beckons. It hummed with the vibrations of life, pulsated with each beat of a heart. The fragile lives of the wounded soldier and his companion were like a pair of drums being pounded next to her ear. The pain of the screamed like a banshee set on fire.

Her presence seeped through her hands, resting on either side of the wound. “This will hurt.” His body was like a control board, full of buttons and knobs representing anything from his stream of consciousness to heart rate. Tesa touched places – exponentially increasing localized cellular growth and adhesion while decreasing the rigidity of flesh.

And he began to scream.

Tesa pulled the arm and watched as the bone slipped back beneath the skin. She caught the skeptical, frightened look from the companion as the screams heightened. With a pull in the Force, the flesh began to knit together and Tesa paid special attention to the temperature of the cells. The bone cells thrived as muscle tissue strengthened.

BOOM. The noise sounded swallowed by water, but a subconscious tug alerted Tesa to finish up, and quickly.

Slowly, Tesa withdrew, the bone still brittle, sinew untested and the flesh a bright pink scar. The screaming had stopped. When she looked, he’d fainted against his companion’s shoulder. The gag had fallen from his slack jaw. The companion was staring at her in horror.

“I thought you said you were a healer.”

BOOM.

She gestured to the arm. “He’s healed. Mostly. Wake him up. Or I will.”

The Force was swaddled in a thousand feelings. Through Jessoin, she could sense the overbearing hunger cloying the air in thick clouds. Horror mingled like a heavy mist close to the ground. Determination, courage, desperation, willfulness, and rage were all there as well.

The terror was electric.

BOOM.

Tesa! She felt Jessoin tugging. He was running for the dented door, steeped in determination and the dark side. “No…” she muttered. He wasn’t going to be able to hold that door. Not alone.

They won’t have you.

“Get out of the DAMN SHIP! Get them out or leave them! And you…” Within the wounded soldier’s body, she commanded him to wake. He jolted, and groggily swung his head. “Go! Run!”

Then Tesa was running. Straight for the metal doors. Directly to Jessoin. She could feel his fear, joining the chaotic electrical storm of everyone’s panic and terror. That fear came to her, magnetized to her, invigorating her. Jessoin’s cry to run was as much directed at her as it was to everyone else.

Not without you.

Tesa pulled on every ounce of fear, trying to sense its depth in each person she passed. Some people were running. Some were limping. Others were standing, looking torn, as if they wanted to interfere somehow.

She slowed enough to grab a nearby Republican and drank the fear that paralyzed him. The Force surged through her, carrying the motivation these people needed to move their asses.

BOOM.

The telepathic burst contained one word, set to trigger the basic flight mechanisms. Run. The soldier’s eyes stretched wide and his pupils dilated. He jerked from her grasp, a wheeze in his breath, but he found his footing and ran. Around her, those formerly rooted began to run.

Tesa turned and sprinted the rest of the way to Jessoin. She drew her arms in a large sweep, the Force prepping within her. A massive burst propelled from her palms. It struck the door hard enough to push some of the dent back with a loud groan of metal. Breathing deeply, Tesa cast a look to Jessoin, trying to synchronize their telekinesis.

You and me, Jess. We survive together.

[Meira]

She'd managed to push herself up to her knees by the time the figure had neared enough for her to make out some of his features in the fleeting sparks of light. Her breathing was a bit ragged and she felt sore all over, but otherwise she knew that she would be alright. The man -she could see now that he was male- knelt and gave his name. Meira's brow furrowed at the sound of it. No way she was going to be able to remember that. It was what he said next that gave her pause. Jedi and Sith working together?

Another voice sounded in the small space and Meira glanced up. She felt the other Jedi's presence more than she saw her form, but a wave of relief washed over her all the same. She had seen what might have amounted to a cease fire between the Republic and the Empire soldiers as the battle deteriorated into a mad scramble for survival. Perhaps it wasn't so far fetched that the force wielding counterparts might stay their blades long enough to do the same.

"Meira Valli." she offered, pushing herself up to stand. She did not take the Sith's hand for help. She didn't need it. She opened her mouth to ask about the other passengers on the shuttle, when she heard a familiar voice rise up from the direction of the hold. Shatani?

"Jaidan!" she called, moving to pass the other two, but a loud boom echoed all around. She stopped in the small corridor between the cockpit and the hold. Just in front of her stood Shatani, and all around voices began to shout and bodies began to move. She could feel what was coming, like a wave against the walls. They crashed again, the sound reverberating again and again; it hadn't even faded when the next came. There was no time now for questions or for hesitation. There was no time to consider better traveling companions. There were no banners or creeds when the living fought against the dead. That was what crashed against the gates now. There was no real life in the rakghouls.

Meira took a deep breath, pulling the force into herself and using it to create a counter balance to the darkness she felt all around her. This was no physical light, of course, but it was a pool of clear air in what felt like a fog of pain and fear. She passed Shatani, placing a hand on his shoulder in acknowledgement, then moved to the hold. Immediately, she stepped to the side of a Rodian who seemed to be just now coming to. She stooped to pull his arm over her shoulder and hoist him to his feet. He stumbled a moment, but then found his balance and Meira was able to let him go.

"We have to move." she said, her voice carrying a sense of fortification with it through the force. Fear would do these men no good. Panic would lead to bad decisions, and that would only bring death. "Breathe." she said, and it was an order. "Now run."

With the shuttle emptied, Meira moved out into the slightly lighter darkness of the bay. Here, she was met with the sight of more soldiers, all moving toward an inner door opposite the large gates that... Meira froze as her eyes swept toward the outer gates. Two figures braced against an invisible burden. They were holding the gates for the rest. It was not this display of heroics that stopped her, however. It was who was putting on the display. One, she did not recognize. The other... Meira was fairly certain she'd never forget that brand of corruption. Zarander.

But once again, the crash of mutated bodies shook her from her mind and Meira set to move again. A few stragglers gaped, frozen in fear. Meira reached out to their minds through the force as she moved, sending them courage enough to remember to move. In all, It seemed there were a few shy of two dozen soldiers now through the inner gate. The uniformed showed a slight favor toward the Empire. Meira cleared the doors and assessed the beings around her, moving from one to the next and using what knowledge she had to ease pain. She had no great skill in healing, nor did she have the time to do it properly, but she could help with pain for now.

[DreadPirateMike]

"Meira."

He doubted very much if any smile he'd flashed that day (Though admittedly, any smile at all had made for an increasingly rare sight.) had rested so easily and loose across his face. Admittedly, he was far from surprised to see the Kiffar, for she numbered among only a few people on Taris whom he'd have recognized so quickly by Force alone. Still, he knew all too well that her decision to take up arms here today had been difficult and long deliberated. As it should be, as good character demanded. And if his friend should come to regret her decision, he was relieved to know she'd at least lived to do so.

"I propose we both learn to ride a horse once we're clear of this place. I'm not sure that ships like you."

He was grateful that the Force had seen fit to provide him a moment for levity. It soon became evident from the cataclysmic crash, felt in his teeth even from here, that he'd received all that could be given.

"Nobody will be left behind." he commanded, his voice carrying clearly through the shuttle's ruin as he stepped once more fully into his rank among these men and women, although he kept his voice calm and level in defiance of both Tesa's vehemence and the horde's relentless push. "If they live, we bring them. Over our shoulders if need be."

With Meira on her feet, and particularly if the Sith spearman continued to feel like being helpful, the numbers seemed on their side, more than enough able bodied people present to help those still in dire straits. Even so, he'd have liked to take up such a burden himself. He may have gotten used to people saluting him, but he didn't think he'd ever much like the exercise of authority without the action to back it up. But as he gazed out the hatch, he made a different decision. He'd doubted much in his time, but one steady truth had led him here, and he'd go on trusting it. Wherever the fight was, that's where he'd be the most useful. And right now, he was missing one hell of a fight at the main gate.

"Go on. You'll have all the time that the Force can give you."

It was oddly touching, the sight of them. Judging by the way they'd been standing around each other not long ago, maintaining a slight but conspicuous distance and acting professionally nonchalant about the other's presence, it seemed they didn't wish to seem anything other than associates. Perhaps the effort was successful in most cases, transparent as it had seemed to an Echani's gaze. Now, however, with all their strength and focus thrown at the task before them, an interested observer might have any number of ways to pick up on the bond. And they'd know it was no gossamer thing. Surely, each was the other's strength.

And their weakness.

He'd made a promise to these two when last he'd seen them. Not a threat, a promise to himself no less. Some day, no matter how distant or how smug they allowed themselves to feel in the meantime, justice would find them. And now, how easily their comeuppance might catch up to them. He'd just have to keep his thoughts shielded to ensure no accidental warning was given. One swipe of his sword, and Zarander's head would come away from his body. There would be a certain poetry in the abruptness of it. How many times had the Zelosian flashed that smirk, chuckling at some joke he declined to share? Perhaps he'd have smiled less if he guessed he himself might be the punchline. He might be able to get Tesa immediately as well if he struck quickly enough, but if not, he wondered. Would her fury replace her horror in time to help her seek vengeance, or would she recoil in an effort to save herself? He could enjoy himself either way.

That wasn't justice, of course. And even if what lay on the other side of those doors didn't ensure the murder would most likely be a suicide as well, it wasn't worthy of the Sith, much less him. Even so, he didn't suppress the ugly thought. Banishing an evil impulse to some dark corner of his mind only gave it a chance to fester and grow out of sight. Instead, he acknowledged it. In fact, he fed it. He took the spark of malice, and let it become the gathering point around which assembled all the fear, all the anger, all the frustration over life wasted wholesale that had assailed him all this dark day.

And then, he let it all go, let it become lost in the Dark Side cloud he'd sensed accumulating around these two like a tributary joining a mighty river. If Tesa or Jessoin could use it, they were welcome to it. As for Jaidan, he was tired. Rather, his body was tired, that real insistent tired he could feel in his damn follicles. But as much time and work as had gone into strengthening his body, the spirit was more resilient still. And now, it surged all the stronger for having shaken off its burden.

With an outstretched hand, all that strength was directed at the gate. And once again, that giant dent shrunk just a little.

[Mara]

Following the Sith and the other Jedi through the wrecked innards of the shuttle, she felt more than heard a loud thudding. It reverberated against the fuselage and through her body all the way to her bones. And seconds later, it had elicited a cacophony of overlapping shouting voices in response. The frantic nature of it all told her that it hadn't been another crash but something else much much worse. Xierra sensed an added chaotic tension in the air that hadn't already been there among the opposing sides stuck together for better or for worse within the fort. Rakghouls.

Quickly, she assisted the others--for still more had come to the crash site--in extracting all the injured and wounded from the inside. They were led out and pushed to run to cover where they wouldn't get in the way and could be medically attended to. "Go! Go" she urged with her voice as her dark eyes watched them stumble away. But then she and those few still left with fight in them had to put them out of their minds and focus on the more imminent threat. Because if they could not stop this and escape with their lives, there would be no point in their rescue.

She tore away her gaze and looked towards the banging come from the front gate.  Calmly began slowly and resolutely walking limply in that direction, where she could already spot a trio with arms upraised against the power of the rakghould hoard on the other side, desperately trying to hold them back as long as possible. To give the rest of them a chance to prepare for the inevitable attack once the infected beings finally broke through. And it all began once again, continuing on as it had for the last few hours.

The Falleen Jedi stopped a few dozen meters away. She reached back and exchanged weapons, tucking away her collapsed bo staff and snapping her lightsaber hilt off her belt. No use being stealthy any longer; the enemy knew exactly where they were, and the energy blade would be more deadly against the rakghouls anyway. Xierra knew she should reach out with the Force as well and help the others at the gate. But she also was aware that her strength was waning, had been for a while now, and she wanted to save all she had left for the fight ahead. Because this blockade would eventually fail, despite best efforts--sheer numbers told her that. So when she closed her eyes, took deep relaxing breaths, and called on the Force at that moment, it was to prepare herself for the impending carnage. And maybe, just maybe, she would survive this.

[Fromikeable]

Of all of the sounds he had today, ranging from earth-shaking explosions to piercing screams and winds, that one dull, enormous thud still shook Vance to his core. The raw power of it, the way the Force rolled with every hit, and the way the gates groaned against it, begging to give way to its tremendous demand only to be forced into endurance by the mixed group keeping it closed.

BOOM.

After a moment, he blinked, realizing that he had just been standing a pace away from the shuttle, feeling the swirling clouds of rage and hunger grow and grow. The sensation began to surround other parts of the walls as those rakghouls who couldn’t find a position to help smash in the gates probed for other points of entry, the sound of sharp claws striking hard durasteel and mortar omnipresent.

BOOM.

Others were already running inside, as he’d had a mind for a moment ago. His mind a bit too captured by the impending sense of doom, his body began to carry him with them toward the inner base, the smaller inner gate beckoning to his survival instinct. His eyes remained peering over his shoulder, finding supreme difficulty in breaking away from the sight of, among other things, Jess and Tesa working with an actual Jedi.

That was about when his eyes suddenly found themselves staring at the pavement, a crunch and a groan of pain coming from another person under him.

He’d stumbled on one of the Imperial troopers who had been limping to safety. Whoops.

Unthinking, Vance’s arms were immediately propelling himself back up before grabbing the trooper, ignoring his waves of pain from his injury and slinging him over his shoulder. The sudden need to help another person’s life managed to wrest his focus away from the encircling horde, which was now scratching at and bashing every conceivable spot on the walls they could reach.

Oddly enough, there was a short pause in the bashing of the main gate, the air almost a little empty without the heralding sound of immediate demise filling his eardrums. Odd.

Vance found himself running as fast as he could under the weight of a Zeltron officer, his body stinging in protest as he reached the door. Setting the man back on his legs, he couldn’t help but look back again. Why hadn’t there been a-

BOOM.

Oh Fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffforce. This time the sound was easily double that of before. Apparently the rakghouls had caught their second wind.

Suppressing a shiver, the ex-padawan subconsciously tugged at the presences of those still beyond the inner gate, his worry and fear unmasked and evident. He feared for his own well-being, but more than that, he feared for all of their well-beings. The thought of even one of them becoming one of those… things struck a chord in him that seemed to reverberate through his presence outward, making it clear that he didn’t much care who died or why.

He just wanted them all out of this alive. Why couldn’t no one else die today?

The fear gripped him a little, and with a small degree of panic in his voice, he turned back at all of the soldiers, as well as their Jedi and Sith counterparts. Some stumbled, some sat, and some were administering further healing.

They needed to keep moving.

“No no no, keep moving.” His tone was less ordering and more utter concern, a particularly loud chorus of roars sounding from the other side of the main gate as they could only be felt amassing to an ungodly quantity.

“Please, please keep moving.” He was more akin to begging than asking.