The Pale Tide

[Ash]

Lancer wasn't the least bit surprised that the Jedi didn't take his hand, nor really show anything nor say much to him besides give her name. She did seem well enough, and he ignored the cold shoulder. Instead, the woman took off when she heard some yelling from the main cargo hold. The Jedi who fallowed him in here left as well leaving Lancer alone in the ruined cockpit, even as the rakghouls pounded at the front gate.

Ignoring the impact from their bodies, he left the craft the same way he came in, meeting his allies outside. The survivors began backing away, heading towards the main complex and hopeful safety within. He made sure to stay near the rear of the survivors, gnawing on a strip of jerky to try to get some calories and energy back.

To anyone else, it may look like he was being irresponsible, except for his eyes showed deep concern and his body was relatively tense. Everyone was wounded and tired, and Lancer bet that not everyone would make it out of here alive.

BOOM

That last one was loud... a massive impact of flesh on metal, and Lancer doubted that front door would last much longer. He finished his jerky, a near grimace on his face. He rushed with everyone else, staying near the doorway as people ran, limped, or was carried in. He heard a Sith apprentice pretty much begging people to continue on. That tone wouldn't work. He put a hand on his shoulder, hopefully putting the younger man at ease, despite Lancer's own look in his eyes.

Freedom is a little ways up ahead, so if you want that, we keep going. The longer we sit here, the closer they come to us, so stand up and move. Everyone... Now!

Lancer didn't fancy himself much of a speaker, but sometimes all it took was a few words and the fear of death if they didn't do something: the fear of death was a good motivator. He, for one, wouldn't want to remain here when that wall broke down.

[Dutch]

With angry red eyes scrunched by the gritted teeth of effort, large beads of sweat now poured down Jessoin’s exposed face as he pushed back against the latest charge. He felt Tesa’s presence meld with his as she assisted, defying his request with her aid. Had the time not be so dire, he would cuss her out for not running. Another great push by the pale tide quickly returned his attention, an omnipotent metal screech echoing through the bay. The sound made every hair on Jessoin stand as a shiver took to his skin.

His heart would flutter and his arms shook, his boots slid on the dusty stone below as he did his best to push back. His voice echoed through the mask as he cried out in effort, another great swell of the dark side around him burst forth to slam into the gate. Even with Jaidan and Tesa’s support Jess knew that was the last one they could hold back. He would turn to cast a single baleful red eye back to check on the survivors, seeing Novus’ pet slip in with the last of the soldiers.

“Tesa, Shatani.” Jess growled electronically. “It’s over. Go.”

I won’t fall behind… He reassured her through their bond.

Jessoin turned his gaze to Tesa, holding her eyes for the briefest moment before he gestured with a nod to the inner door. From behind the great gate before them, he could feel the darkness pull away further than before. His eyes would narrow as the rakghouls seemed to hold off, causing the Sith to backpedal warily with a hand moving to push Tesa back with him.

The sound of scrabbling claws on stone would swiftly reach a horrifying staccato, the deep gravelly sounds of stone moving beginning to fill the bay. A pale form lurched through the hole the Jedi shuttle had caused. It hit the stone floor wetly as the drop killed the rakghoul. Then another. And another. Then three at one time.

The flood of rakghouls suddenly exploded through that opening, causing more stone to crash through and crush the broken mutants that had died on impact. More and more they piled through, a sharp spike of panic seizing Jessoin as the Force whispered in the back of his skull.

In seemingly slow motion he would turn, dark energies gathered within to fuel Jessoin’s leap. One arm would wrap around Tesa while the other gathered arcs of lightning to its palm. He cast a look to the pouring flood of rain-soaked monstrosities, more and more surviving by the cushion of dead below. The gate they had tried so hard to save would suddenly be flattened to the ground with an almighty slam. For the briefest second the pressing ghouls outside were too constricted by their own numbers, the unlucky ones at the edges ground between stone and endless flesh. With a wet squelch and a series of crunches the tide would burst forth, hundreds of bodies rolling over one another as the fiends desperately lunged to give chase.

A hissing blast of lightning would come from Jessoin as he fled, his other hand gripped a tight handful of the back of Tesa’s top to push her roughly. Every sense screaming, the Sith paid no mind to Shatani or the Falleen. In that moment, there was only himself, Tesa, and the inner gate that would lead to safety. He could feel the hungry filth press for them, still a few meters behind. Another pull from that umber pool of energy and the two Sith would cross the threshold into the hall..

“Back, I said back!” The zelosian would bark, with no time to enjoy the sight of both Imperial and Republic soldiers obeying him as they scampered back. Jess turned as his hand flung out to grasp Shatani’s to pull him roughly into the hall as well. Summoning the Force into himself as rapidly as possible, Jessoin latched tendrils of the dark side into the stone ceiling above. He would backpedal and with a grunt ripped both hands downward to collapse the stone. It would thunder as the hall before the Sith crumbled, the rows of lights in the remaining hall flickered off until replaced by emergency red. A great cloud of dust billowed and seized the entire hall, colored crimson by the lights above.

Blinded momentarily, the Sith was grateful for the breath mask Renata had recommended as he breathed easily through the dusty haze. Moments later it would settle to reveal a grotesque sight. The newly formed wall of stone was caked full of dead rakghouls, more than a couple weakly grasping for the survivors as their twisted life ebbed. Black, tar-like blood leaked down the Tarisian stone. Seemed the Force was with them, another second and they rakghouls would have broken through. 

Panting heavily, Jessoin's shaky breathing was still steady despite his jumbled nerves. With a single huff the Sith would begin laughing, a dry and exhausted sound. He turned to face Tesa, a single wink of his red eyes given before Jess turned to the other survivors.

"I do think... we should keep... moving." He suggested, words broken between labored breaths as Jessoin let his nerves slowly settle.

[Squee]

His frustration was apparent. A single bit of laughter croaked through her mask, giving her clenched jaw a brief respite. The dark side siphoned into them, controlled by intimate combination of will. Two, rhythmic heart beats drummed as a single, reconcilable entity as she completed the meld. His fear swirled into her, drawn into her by an invisible tether which entered the base of her ribs. The chilly tendril coiled around her warm, untouchable heart before she redirected it back into the humming collective of dark energy.

Tesa glanced behind to assess where the majority was in relation to safety. Most everyone was gone, besides Shatani and that falleen Jedi, who stood with a hollow lightsaber in hand. Annoyance flourished within her. “Are you just going to stand there, you useless trite?” Shatani was at least helping! Effort was dripping from the Echani’s brow. “Join or -”

BOOM.

Tesa staggered and she whipped back around. In sync with Jessoin, the Force surged anew through her, and she stamped forward as their bursts conjoined, assaulting the gate. She recognized they were losing this stubborn game of wills, Jessoin’s confirmation echoing her thought. With a robotic snarl, Tesa shot him a look, mildly surprised to see his ruby eyes on her. Hands curling into fists, she looked away in resignation.

She was half turned before she felt Jessoin’s spike of suspicion. His hand was upon her then, arm barred across her. By instinct, she quickened her pace and moved slightly behind him.

As one who constructed, molded, and submitted fear to her will, Tesa Yarum was not afraid of many things. She could create fear from bravado, turn gleeful laughter into terrorized shrieks, and cripple the most profound warrior with his darkest nightmares. Arguably, she had one fear: death. She feared dying, especially of old age. She feared outliving Jessoin.

As the first rakghoul made a bodily crunch on the floor, Tesa learned she feared rakghouls. Nothing in its right sanity should commit suicide in pursuit to assuage its hunger. Ice struck her core, stealing her breath. Rationality departed, replaced only by the instinct to act.

And Tesa was not aware of the acts. She barely registered Jessoin’s arm snaking around her, her feet leaving the ground, or the jarring impact that made her teeth clatter in her skull. She wanted to run faster and absurdly wondered if her feet had been misplaced, exchanged for wooden blocks. Tesa did register the threshold that was supposed to mark safety. She also became sharply aware Jessoin was no longer with her.

With a measure of great effort, she looked back even as she advanced into the hall. Shatani crashed bodily into her. Grasping his sleeve, Tesa stumbled to keep upright as they briefly whirled about each other, like two planets trying to stay in orbit.

The Force stirred with Jessoin’s interference, and then the ceiling cracked and rumbled. Dust assailed her eyes, making them water, but they searched rapidly, longingly, for Jessoin’s lithe frame. There was the sound of plinking as small bits from the hall tumbled down the jagged new wall. The small, weak snaps and gurgling growls of pale, sickly bodies. The sound of their claws made her frozen heart squeeze. Jessoin’s laugh was a merry sound to her ears, rising above those all.

Why was Shatani quaking? Looking down at her hand, Tesa realized it wasn’t Shatani at all; her hand was tremoring outrageously. And then she was aware she couldn’t breathe. The ice that had seized her heart also gripped her lungs, turning them into solid masses that wouldn’t contract. Her breathing was shallow and fast (hyperventilation, she briefly thought) as Tesa fought to control her panic, worsened only by the blackening ring around her vision. Tilting, she held fast to Shatani’s sleeve – the only thing anchoring her.

I can’t… I can’t… Force dammit, I can’t… breathe.

She couldn’t stand the humidity condensing in her mask. Fingers fumbling, she finally gripped and tore the mask from her mouth. The air tasted of dust. As the floor jarred, Tesa squeezed her stinging eyes shut, and drew in a long deep breath, forcing those frozen lungs to expand. Concentrating on her bond with Jessoin, the confusion swishing and sloshing within her head steadily began to level. Slowly, her breaths became more controlled. Clarity returned. Eventually she let go of Shatani and waved her hand dismissively.

Red emergency light cast everything into fuzzy, elongated shadows. With a dry swallow, Tesa repositioned her mask. Beyond the broken hallway, a hoard of wriggling monstrosities was at her back, vying ever deeply for awakened flesh. There was an uncertainty in her bones, and she felt as if she were outside her body, watching as she enter the catacombs of what would become their tombs.

[Meira]

As others came running, or limping, through the gates, Meira tried to assess each one. She was somewhat relieved to see that the vast majority of their number moved of their own accord and upright. Only a handful needed the support of others. A Togruta, a Rodian, a Zeltron, and two humans. This was manageable... she hoped. She moved from person to person, giving a reassuring touch to the arm or extending a sense of fortification through the force wherever she could. She was organizing a few able bodied soldiers to assign them to assistance with moving the wounded when the time came. That was when a voice rose up above the others.

He was young -at least younger than herself- and she could sense an imbalance from him. Not like the other Sith here, like the one that came in just behind him... the one she'd awoken to. This one was conflicted. The sensation of it was obvious to her, but she had no time to dwell on it. She turned to the soldiers and dismissed them to their tasks, then moved toward this young man. Perhaps speaking to him would shed some light on who he was and where he might stand when all of this was over.

But the talking would have to wait. Her eyes looked toward the gate, where she could see that Shatani and Zalq were still out there with Zarander and the woman. Their efforts were failing. And with what Meira would normally consider a shameful loss of composure, she cupped a hand over her mouth to stifle the shocked intake of breath as the first of the rakghouls came through the hole in the gate. They dripped and splattered to the ground like liquid, but accompanied by the solid sounds of crunching bone and torn flesh. Even at this distance, she could hear it clearly.

She turned and joined the chorus that drove the soldiers forward and deeper into the megastructure. "Up!" she said, and "Back! They're coming!" She looked back and the four were running, the rakghouls close on their heels. Shatani and the woman were through. Meira thought she saw Zalq as well, but could not confirm it when the structure began to shake. Meira's senses warned her of what was happening and she turned to shield a soldier struggling to move a man with a wounded leg. The lights failed and were replaced with the crimson glow of emergency lighting. She coughed the dust from her lungs, looking around.

A voice came from near the cave in and Meira turned to see that it was Zarander, panting and obviously strained. It took all her will not to allow emotion to lead her toward useless action against the man. It defied her every instinct, but this group truly needed every living soul it could take if they were going to survive. She took a deep breath, calling on the force to aid and soothe her mind, then turned her eyes away from him.

"Sound off!" she called out. The Republic soldiers began to respond immediately, eight voices total. The Imperial soldiers were hesitant to respond to her, but missed only a beat before counting themselves as well; ten voices. That left three Jedi and four Sith, though her mind recalled the one and wondered if that was truly what she should call him. She shook the thought away for the time being. There were more pressing concerns.

The soldiers she had spoken to earlier were assisting with the wounded and soon their company, such as it was, began to move forward into the fort. Meira picked her way through the group, drawing toward the only being she knew in all of this mess. She could see that his efforts at the gate had been taxing, to say the least.

"Are you alright?" she asked, and then saw Zalq nearby and connected with her eyes, silently extending the question to her as well.

[DreadPirateMike]

In the back of his mind, he dimly hoped Xierra would forgive him for not rushing to her defense in response to Tesa's venom, but in truth, he simply couldn't spare the focus. He assumed these two Sith had been stationed with their fleet in orbit prior to their arrival here, perhaps reading holozines, or playing Vector, or...well, any number of things he'd rather be doing right now. As it was, he'd been here, fighting. And then, more enervating by far, watching as all that agony and loss of life became utterly meaningless when the Rakghouls in their thousands simply devoured everything the Republic had toiled to build here anyway. That the Sith had also paid dearly for Novus' misstep might, perhaps, soften the blow when the overall effect on the Republic's war effort was calculated, but right now, Jaidan just knew he was tired. Operating at this level didn't even leave him enough left over to be heroically obstinate. He sustained his share of the effort to the last, but when Zarander exhorted them to retreat, the Jedi gave him no cause to repeat himself.

"Come on, Xierra! It's too late for that!" he managed to find the strength to shout, much as he admired the sentiment behind standing to fight. All this running was becoming so very tiresome, and a final fight you knew you couldn't win was no less beautiful a moment. But no, if his life was a prize to be taken, that honor would go to a warrior. One who would long remember the struggle it had demanded of them. Not these mindless piles of stench and teeth.

Such grandiose assertions were more than mere bravado. They could strengthen him, to a point. But, as with his command of the Force, there were limits. A few hours ago, perhaps, he could still have sneered and left these monsters behind at will, but now...the Force had not abandoned him, but after his struggle at the gate, it was a question of spurring his tired body to keep moving at all, not whether mundane eyes could clearly perceive him. It was perhaps questionable whether he'd have needed the help during the initial flight into the fort, but this time, there was no denying he owed Zarander. But then, he owed Zarander a number of things, and he was spared dwelling on it by the momentum that sent him crashing into Tesa.

It took longer than he'd care to admit to get his balance back, and when he did, he was too short on breath to simply ask why the woman wasn't letting go of him, but an arched brow did advertise his bewilderment. It took a moment to realize she was probably oblivious to the unspoken question; it wasn't exhaustion alone he was looking at. Ah, but of course. She hadn't been confronted with these things all day. She was earning her survival now, and evidently not liking it terribly. Even Zarander, chaos junky that he was, seemed to be feeling the strain now.

Good. Let the Sith enjoy the fruits of Sith handiwork at its finest. Still, he didn't pull away, but allowed Tesa the support until she made clear she didn't need it anymore, by imperiously waving him off as if the moment of fear and vulnerability had never happened. He saw no reason to dispute the fantasy. But he'd been witness to her moment of weakness, and she knew it. And that merited a chuckle as he sunk down against the wall.

"Welcome to Taris."

To his embarrassment, he suspected he'd been on the verge of nodding off when Meira's voice jolted him back into awareness. His first reaction was to look either way, only to relax when it became apparent that the terrible twosome's attention was elsewhere. Good. He wouldn't need to worry about getting harped at for goldbricking on top of everything else. Only a moment later did Meira's actual question sink in. The laughter began as his typically subdued chuckle, but quickly gathered strength at the seeming absurdity of the question and its source, until it had assumed all the energy and vitality that felt drained from the rest of him. Which one of them had just walked away from a shuttle crash that had punched a hole in a ferrocrete wall?

"Honestly?" he answered, wiping a stray tear with the heel of his hand. "I could really use a strong drink, a hot shower, and a long nap. All more or less at the same time. Failing that, I'm alive. I suppose we'd best get back to keeping ourselves that way, eh?"

[Mara]

Everything around her had slipped away as she dropped into her meditation, head bowed and eyes closed. Took the precious seconds that she still had in the brief calm to draw on the Force and use it to restrengthen her, body and mind. Fill up her energy reserves. Xierra's breathing was slow and steady, and with each inhale and exhale she could feel herself rejuvenating. Not fully, of course, but it was better than nothing. All the while, she recited the Jedi Code, over and over, silently. Every syllable of the mantra increasing her fortitude and decreasing her fear. Reinforcing the icy calmness she would need to survive.

There is no emotion, there is peace.

However, it did not last, as only moments later, she reluctantly but needfully pulled herself out of the Force reverie. Even though she knew she was still well below the level of efficiency she was used to. But on borrowed time, she could not keep herself sidelined for long. It was inevitable that the Sith would fail and the gate would fall, letting in a rushing flow of bloodthirsty rakghouls. And Xierra needed to be ready to do her part to stop them from claiming any more victims. She had gathered all the power and stamina she had been able to. It had to be enough. It had to.

As she came back to the present, all her surroundings had slammed back into her. All of the chaos. Beneath the pounding cacophony at the gate, another sound grabbed the attention of her ears. A sickening squelch, like a large melon incinerating on duracrete. There was no need to glance over; the Force told her all she needed to know. She thumbed on her lightsaber, the pale green blade coming to life with its snap-hiss! Xierra sucked in a deep breath, lifted her head, and flipped open her dark eyes. And with the Force as a comforting cloak around her, moved forward towards the new danger.

Because her dark orbs had focused upwards on the hole off to the side of the gate, high above, that the shuttle had punched through when it crashed. Where rakghouls had managed to reach and were climbing through and so far, dropping to their deaths stories below. Their already misshapen bodies distorting further against the hard surface. But they were gradually getting the hang of things, and using their dead as a cushion were surviving the fall, the mound of corpses a launch pad towards her and the trio  trying to keep the horde at the gate at bay. The Falleen Jedi was ready for them, though.

She swung her blade, decapitating one here, another there, still others getting a lightsaber blade to the heart as she danced around them, her movements smooth and fluid. The maneuvers of Ataru were second nature to her. Fully immersed, she was one with the Force, and she only had eyes for the enemy; Xierra could not let herself dwell on what was happening at the gate nearby. For that was to distract her, and that could be her death as she twisted and slashed among the rakghouls, adding to their death toll.

But then they were coming too fast; they would soon overwhelm her attempts to subdue them. Xierra was smart enough to know when it was time to fight and when it was time to fall back and retreat. So as she battled, she slowly moved herself back, closer to the inner door, which everyone else had disappeared through already. Giving herself a better vector for her eventual escape, as a plan began forming in her mind. It all rested on her getting this right, she thought, as she back-flipped out of the way of a rakghoul's claw.

There is no death, there is the Force.

Once she was in position, Xierra reached back to grab her secondary lightsaber, the blue-bladed weapon of her former master that she kept mainly for sentimental reasons. She ignited it and held both weapons in front of her. Drew on the Force and grasped the hilts with it. Then with a Force shove, she blasted the rakghouls in the front lines as well as sent the energy weapons spinning towards them. Without a second look back, she used the rest of her strength to sprint towards the open door, the trio at the gate hot on her heels, her mind keeping the lightsabers aloft and sheering through more of the beasts like twin buzz saws.

After she was through the opening and into the hall beyond, she spun and shot her arms forward to call the weapons back to her hands. They flew back like boomerangs around the corner and slapped against her palms, miliseconds before the ceiling came crashing down. The screeches of dying rakghouls filled her ears along with the tumbling duracrete. She blinked against the debris, ducking her head out of the way of most of it. Once the dust had settled, the space was strangely silent. Yes, there were murmurings from the survivors around her and the vexed cries of the enemy outside. But the din of earlier had disappeared.

Then, in the lull, she could finally take stock of herself. Her breaths were short and gasping; her heart was pounding out of her chest. Her bad leg screamed out in protest, as did all of her muscles and the rest of her body. Normally green, her skin had gone more gray and clammy in response to being at the end of her reserves. The Falleen Jedi was also splattered with fresh rakghoul blood, from her dark hair down to her bare feet.  Without major injury, Xierra was still extremely spent, having burned off all her energy and adrenaline; the Force the only thing keeping her on her feet.

Xierra glanced around herself slowly, taking in the red-tinted scene with a tired gaze. Soldiers from both sides, many wounded. A handful of Jedi and Sith. And under the circumstances the mixed company no longer bothered her, exhausted as she was. Meira caught her eye, and she could see the unasked question written there. She nodded, reassuring her that she was all right. Or would be. She was alive after all, and that was all that mattered; the rest would take care of itself in time. And then finally, she let go of the Force and with a sigh, collapsed to the floor in a heap of relief.

[Fromikeable]

Laughter. Elated, exhausted, hysterical laughter. Of all the things from all of the people in all of the galaxy, the sound gracing Vance’s ears was Jessoin laughing…

Force above, just let it end.

The maneuver had left him… well, not worse for wear, but certainly just a little more worn. He had been about to respond to the odd Sith with the… was that a spear? He hadn’t had much time to think about it; there was nothing like another sudden surge forward as the death-wishing defenders of the gate had come sprinting in, bringing with them a horde that would’ve given the fleets pause.

The horde, meanwhile, only found itself paused by the sudden collapse of the entrance to the fort. Even then, much of the debris consisted of their half-dead bodies ever reaching forward, trying to crawl and morbidly knash at their sought prey.

It was more than enough to make Vance shiver, finding himself as far from the debris as any of the others, his instinct having demanded him to unthinkingly take more than a few steps back from the encroaching scene.

I’m a coward. Another thought to be shoved down for later. For now, there were shuttles and dead rakghouls and dying soldiers and… and… Taris, in all of the unbearable chaos it was proving to reap.

The silence after the entire ordeal was palpable, broken only by that awful laugh and the slow stirrings of the populace. The Jedi checked on one another, the Sith… well, experiencing whatever sort of odd mental processes each was subject to. Honestly, Tesa seemed sane, but so far Vance’s experiences had only reinforced his feeling that a good number of Sith were absolute nutjobs.

Trying to calm his own heartbeat, the young apprentice took a minute of relative silence, managing to pry his eyes away from the ghastly spectacle of the collapsed entrance and further into the fort. With the red emergency lights, he could only see so much, and even then only in two colors; pitch black or glowing blood red. Appropriate, a small part of him would think. The rest of him would just find it morbid.

The only saving grace he could find in it would be his own saber. A shaky hand moving to his belt in intentional slowness, Vance carefully unsnapped it and checked it for damage before holding it above his head, snapping the dark green blade to life as less a weapon against the unknown way ahead and more simply an additional light; a way to see just a little further ahead. He found an odd comfort in his saber’s familiar hilt, it automatically seeming to be “Jedi” in every way… save for the dastardly things it had been used for today. Vance bit his lip for a moment, suppressing an urge to toss it and then a consequent urge to vomit.

Just keep going. He could only hope that he wouldn’t regret his persistence later.

As people managed to pry themselves up and dust themselves off (literally and figuratively), the ex-padawan took a few more small steps forward. The room they had landed themselves in was simple; a large hallway, once aesthetically pleasing and meant for tourists and (more recently) military planners and strategists, now absolutely ravaged. Fort Bennick had been both a target and a stronghold, and while it had held strong in both roles, it had hardly escaped unscathed.

A good example was the shuttle-sized hole in the walls outside, or now the gates. Or even still, the floor; perpetually covered in a good half meter of water.

“Ugh…” Vance could already feel his socks getting wet. Looking back at the crew of survivors, he would reveal where his focus was. “Hey, uh, Tesa…” He blinked for a minute, his exhausted mind needing a minute to confirm that he hadn’t asked Jess and that he had remembered the correct name therefore. Satisfied, he finished.

“The shuttles through here?” He pointed with his saber down toward the flooded section, the blade humming a little too warmly for the cold, broken atmosphere of the fort.

[Dutch]

Jessoin’s breath was still more ragged than he expected, his gut tight and torso stiff as he struggled to breath. Despite the breath mask filtering his every inhale, the very act of breathing seemed harder than it should. One hand curiously moved to his darkly robed abdomen, a plasteel covered gauntlet would press into a surprisingly warm and wet patch. The Sith pulled his gauntlet away, and studied the dark green blood that dripped from fingertips. Shamelessly the zelosian shrugged off half of his black robe before he peeled up the skin-tight underweave tunic to reveal a deep emerald gash parting pale flesh. Jessoin breathed, and the wound bled further. With two fingers he pressed into the wound, only to pull out a shard of metal that had cut straight through the underweave. It clattered musically against the duracrete below when he dropped the shrapnel from the collapse.

“Huh.”

The Sith looked to his right where an Imperial soldier sat doubled over against a wall. The human coughed bright red blood and clutched at his own wound, the purple wyrms of intestines just barely poking out from the bleeding hole. A ripple of malicious intent would flutter from Jessoin, his next motions swift as he stepped to the soldier. Both hands swooped down, one clutched at just under the man’s jaw while the other gripped his flak jacket. With a growl the Sith lifted him off his feet, eyes wild as he slammed the groaning man against the wall. The Force twisted around him as umber tendrils forced their way into the dying Imperial’s gash. Fear and agony rolled off the human in searing waves, and Jessoin drank of it greedily until soldier’s shaking stopped. The zelosian let the emptied husk of a body tumble limply to the floor before he turned to reveal his own wound twistedly healed to leave a new scar.

“Oh don’t look at me like that.” Jess’ all too casual voice crackled in the silence. “He was dead already.”

He shrugged and straightened his underweave before languidly sliding his robe back on. Jessoin moved forward to pass through the crowd of Jedi, soldiers and Sith only to pause just before Vance as he made his query to Tesa. Jess turned too to look Tesa’s way, brows lifted in what she would know as a look of mocking delight.

“Do tell us, dear Tesa. Are the shuttles just across the hall there? A little shuffle through a puddle, open the door and there we go!” Jessoin put a hand on Vance’s shoulder and gripped uncomfortably tight as the zelosian turned his attention to the boy.

“The shuttle, is very very many stories above us at the top of the tower. Though most of this place is in utter disrepair, Republic engineers did keep the cargo lift to the top hangar in working order. For the most part. Tesa here earlier told me that we shouldn’t try to take it back up. She doesn’t think it could handle more than her and I.”

Jessoin turned and stepped further into the foot or so of water. He moved in a way to not cause too much noise, and gestured for everyone to follow.

“So you can decide. Either take the steps from the very bottom of this quite tall and likely rakghoul infested megastructure to the very top, or take the lift for a long, vertigo inducing ride to the shuttles.”

Once at the front of a sliding lift door, Jessoin thumbed the panel. His eyes shown gleefully as a soft ding heralded the door opening. Water drained lazily down into the gap between the lift and the floor. Without hesitation the Sith stepped in, and placed a hand against the side as he turned an expectant gaze at the group.

“Stairs is it then?”

[Squee]

Tesa lifted her hand and studied its shadowed shape, trying to understand whether this was as much as she could see or if it was a consequence of her deoxygenated brain. Blinking hard did not bring any clarity to her surroundings.

Voices behind her made her glance at where Shatani slumped by the wall. His exhausted laughter was directed to a woman, and the lean shadow of the Falleen stood not far off. The Jedi would care for their own.

Where was Jessoin? As a zelosian, he would be able to see even less...

Reaching for him, a phantom ache echoed within her chest. Pain. A wound? Tesa felt her throat constrict. Had a rakghoul somehow managed to scratch him? Granted, the ailment could be resolved with the serum she'd brought, but Tesa would hate for that to be common knowledge.

Jessoin was a few feet away, lifting a mortally wounded soldier. The dark side roiled within Jessoin, cruel and potent. His natural gift of conjuration was bolstered by Taris’ natural atmosphere. With the rakghouls around? The dregs of life as the soldier's essence winked in existence, fading rapidly under Jessoin’s dark touch. Her phantom chest ache disappeared. He’d managed to heal himself. Tesa released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Turning away from her lover’s half naked frame, Tesa walked on to find Vance.

A green bar pierced the gloomy environment, held high above Vance’s head. That hadn’t been hard. He didn’t look much worse for wear, besides exhaustion.

As she hurried toward Vance, her boots splashing through the water. “Vance,” she said, ready to tell him not to continue this way. He interrupted her, though, posing a question to her answer. Unfortunately, Vance had also managed to ask in time for Jessoin to appear at her shoulder.

No, not that look.

”Do tell us, dear Tesa,” Jessoin began, and Tesa snorted derisively.

Jessoin…

He continued, fueling her ire. “Jessoin,” she said. He persisted, his mockery making him gleeful. Tesa gritted her teeth.

” Tesa here earlier told me that we shouldn’t try to take it back up. She doesn’t think it could handle more than her and I.”

A small growl gurgled in her throat. Shut up.

“…or take the lift for a long, vertigo inducing ride to the shuttles.”

“Can’t you say anything without sass and belligerence?” The lift was on their floor, as she and Jessoin had left it. Tesa opened her mouth to address the others, but was interrupted by Jessoin’s final, satirical jab. After a moment’s worth of baleful amber eyes glaring at her smug fiend, she finally addressed the group. “Please ignore my companion and get on the lift.” He voice was unintentionally frosty. “It will hold most if not all of us. It’s designed to hold much heavier weights.”

Tesa stepped into the lift beside Jessoin. “What is wrong with you? No, I know. Taris has you wrapped around its little finger. You are starting to annoy me, though.” Even after a year with Jessoin, most of his quirks still made her tight with irritation. However, she’d learned to live with it.

Today, however, he was being excessively obnoxious. However, the crinkled lines around his eyes told her he was vastly enjoying himself.

Her gaze dropped from his face to his chest. She resisted the urge to tug aside his robe and underweave to check his healed injury. Nothing in their bond alerted her to further or lingering pains. So she crossed her arms and stood beside him instead.

Once their numbers were boarded, Tesa reached and thumbed the button representing their destination. Slowly, the lift door slide and latched securely with a barely audible click. With a shudder, the lift began a lethargic ascent.

Elevators. A necessary evil. Squeezing her thumbs alternatively, Tesa became fascinated with the tear in Jessoin’s chest underweave.

The lift shuddered again, its vibration caused the metal to emit a small groan of effort. Seconds later, it dipped slightly when it halted entirely. Although she knew this ride had been much too short, Tesa checked their level. Only about halfway up. Mildly alarmed, Tesa looked at Jessoin in time for the lights in the corners to black out. No emergency lights came on.

Tesa grabbed Jessoin’s hand and placed his fingers on her belt. Anxiety became the general mood within the lift and was rising swiftly to a panic with accompanied murmuring of disturbed feelings. “One moment,” Tesa said, though she was unsure if the lift’s populace heard her. In the dark, she groped for the small light somewhere on her waist while the other explored for the lift’s controls.

“Here.” She pressed her tiny flashlight into Jessoin’s hand. Her fingers hooked the control casing and, with a small call to the Force, she pulled it off. Inside was a larger tangle of wires than she had anticipated. Old technology, slightly degraded. Meeting Jessoin’s gaze, she shook her head. She wasn’t even going to attempt to hotwire the lift.

“Away from the door,” she said. Lifting her hands, she grasped the door and pried it open along its rollers. They were about a foot above the level’s floor, its own door closed to them. Using the Force, she looked beyond the lift but sensed nothing presently. “Shall we move onto the current floor?”

[Meira]

Meira returned Zalq's nod, but her attention moved back to Shatani as he began to laugh. At first, she'd thought to laughter was directed at her. She chalked this up to her general fatigue, which made it hard for her to cast her own self-absorption aside as she'd been trained to do. After a moment, she saw his laughter for what it was. Some beings froze in times of great danger, some ran away. Those who had the courage and training to act in times of crisis had to find ways of coping, lest their minds become consumed by the weight of the things they faced. Apparently Shatani laughed in those moments when there was nothing else one could do. So she rolled her eyes, a quick upturn of the corner of her mouth indicating her appreciation of the levity Shatani's words brought to the situation, however briefly.

"I suppose so."

Meira turned to start moving along with the others. Somewhere ahead, the familiar snap-hiss of a lightsaber could be heard, a green glow accompanying the sound. It was the man she'd seen earlier, the one that didn't seem to fit with the other Sith. But her attention would be pulled away from him once again as the sounds of a struggle came to her ears. Meira turned, her hand pulling her lightsaber from where it was clipped at her belt in one fluid motion. By the time she had pinpointed the origin of the sounds, it was too late. Her stomach churned as she felt a life draining away to nothing. Zarander let the body fall, stepping away from it like a child might step away from a toy he'd grown tired of. Meira could feel her jaw tighten.

“Oh don’t look at me like that. He was dead already.”

She had to turn away. Her eyes connected with Shatani's and she knew her features prominently displayed her difficulty with their situation. But she did not voice this. There was no point, not now. Instead, she moved toward one of the Republic soldiers and quietly instructed him to keep a careful eye on the others, Republic or not. If it came to it, Meira would not allow something like that to happen again. The cease-fire between their two factions was tenuous at best. It appeared that it was necessary for their survival, but Meira could not abide such actions again, even if it meant risking their ability to escape this hell they'd all fallen into. What was the point of getting out if they brought the brimstone with them?

After a few mocking remarks from Zarander, their next step was made clear. Meira lingered toward the back of the group, making sure that all were moving, or being helped toward the lift. When she stepped in, she had to shuffle past a few soldiers before finding a spot with enough room. This ended her next to the young man. She studied him for a moment, noting that he was, surely, younger than herself. Even still, his expression was weary, and Meira wondered how he'd ended up where he was. She'd seen the way Zarander and the other woman acted around him. Particularly to predatory look in Zarander's eyes when he addressed the man. She'd seen that look before. She wanted to speak, to ask him why he was with the Sith. It was obvious that the man was troubled by something. This quality set him far apart from the others. Was he some sort of prisoner?

These thoughts and questions swirled in her mind, but Meira could think of no way to broach the subject without raising the suspicion of his comrades. At least, not until the lift suddenly stopped and went dark. There was a moment of silent unease amongst the group as they waited for emergency lighting. When it did not come on, the soldiers began to murmur. Meira took this opportunity to try and speak to the man.

"Are you with these people willingly?" Meira knew no other way to put her question. She didn't have the time, or the privacy to approach the topic more delicately. "My name is Meira." she added, hoping to allow a sense of connection if he would have it. "We can help you, if you need it." Her eyes glanced around as bodies shifted and the doors were pried open. "We can protect you."

[Ash]

Lancer was starting to get tired of Jess's manerism's, and he doubted he was the only one. He would have much rather seen him off the soldier quickly rather than pretty much eat him, but he just huffed a little and went on his way.

Once they resumed moving, he kept to the center of the pack: actually, he was closer to the rear. He could feel his temper starting to get shorter and shorter as they day went on, and he didn't exactly feel like exploding and wasting energy.

It wasn't long before Vance asked Tesa a question shortly after he lit his lightsaber for light. He remained silent and wished the kid remained silent. Right on que, Jess spoke up to Vance with his little sarcastic tone. Tess soon fallowed suit. Man he couldn't wait to get out of here.

As he thought, the shuttle was waiting for them on the roof, or close to it, of this damned decrepit building. Now they just needed to make it up there. The lift would make it easier.

But of course, it couldn't make it up to the top. That would be too easy. The lights went out as it suddenly lost power and stopped moving. While most would have been blind in the darkness, Lancer wasn't as his eyes took on a silvery look as his nictitating membranes covered his eyes, allowing him to see a broader spectrum of light compared to most of the species in the lift. He heard mutters coming from others, but he would keep quiet for now unless someone addressed him directly.

A small flashlight soon clicked on and Tesa opened the doors: they were stopped between floors, and the closest floor was a few feet below them. He looked across everyone, holding eye contact with whomever happened to be looking at him at that immediate moment.

Just move rather than ask ridiculous questions.

[Fromikeable]

Vance felt like he should have been used to the feeling of life ebbing away from individuals after he’d sensed it so many times, but this time was… different. Looking back over his shoulder, his eyes would widen as they confirmed what he felt. That… that sucking through the Force. Not sucking, no, just… pulling. As if energy wasn’t simply leaving a being as it would naturally, but… being forced out, directed toward another.

It was being robbed. Oh dear sweet Force, that was absolutely sick.

He would’ve reacted if his body wasn’t just so repulsed by the idea. His spine shivered. His hands were cold and clammy. His eyes stared almost unblinkingly, as if they’d just seen a phantom. It almost felt like his own presence had been tugged at, as if someone had stolen life from him rather than the dying man.

Well the robber in question gave an indignant “He was dead already”, Vance had to close his eyes, bite his tongue harder than he’d yet had to that day, and grip his saber all the tighter.

The ensuing snark from the robber didn’t make life easier. Jess found just the right combination of nerves to hit so as create a two-fold effect; a deep, burning desire to get what was coming to him, and, if Vance was being honest, a disturbing fear. Fear not of Jess, per se (though summoning lightning and draining people of their very lives weren’t exactly comforting), but more a fear that…

… well, even Jess must have been a Jedi once. That was more terrifying than a thousand “eaten” soldiers.

Luckily all of this managed to distract Vance from what the man actually said, his conscious mind too busy digesting the very idea of Jess to actually catch what sort of gas came billowing out of his mouth. The only thing he did catch as people began to board the lift was Tesa’s apparent distaste for his snideness as well; something that won her another brownie point, for whatever that was worth.

And yet, as the lift began to climb, Vance would find himself next to one of the Jedi; a Kiffar woman who seemed to have a few years on him. He did his best trying to get lost in his thoughts, and when he realized what a bad idea that was, he tried to get lost in minutia. The sound of the lift. The coughing and shuffling of the party. The flickering lights, the cries of Force-only-knew-what as they passed level after level. Anything that could distract him from the events of the day, the consequences of his actions, and the awkwardness of standing next to someone he’d aspired to be like.

Then the lift jammed to a stop, and his strategy went out the window.

“Are you with these people willingly?” Her question made his mouth dry, his fingers rubbing themselves as he kept quiet. Maybe she would think he hadn’t hea-

“We can help you, if you need it.” He would need far more than help, he would ne- ”We can protect you.”

The odd Sith with the spear leaned over and added his own piece of advice, noting that he should keep quiet, and Vance quickly enacted it, becoming quiet as the grave. He should have felt happy, should have felt… overjoyed that not only did these Jedi recognize his disdain for where he had wound up, but were offering help. Help! A ticket back to the Order, right? A return to how things were, a chance at that future he’d so wanted. Knighthood, then the sky was the limit. Helping the galaxy, helping the Republic, helping people most importantly. Of course he would take any offer of help, of protection, from Jedi Knights, especially if it meant getting shove a saber up the ass of one of the most hideous Sith he had ever encountered.

.... right?

“... I’ll… let you know as soon as I figure it out.” The words tasted sour to him. That wasn’t how this was supposed to work, and yet that’s how it was. He could have tried to break out Locke, to stay with Levin, to… hell, to escape on his own.

But he hadn’t. He’d stayed.

Of all the thoughts he’d had today, that one had to be the worst. It wasn’t even easy to shove down like the others, and for a second, he actually had to stop his eyes from watering. It helped that he was far, far too tired to cry by this point.

By now, it didn’t matter what came from who. It was aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall just temptation. And he was far to weary to weigh it all.

So when the doors were ripped open, he gladly shouldered his way through the party to the escape, giving it a glance in the Force to ensure nothing laid in wait. Stepping down the foot or so gap between the lift and the floor, he voiceless offered up his hands to some of the wounded, focusing on helping them down; easy, as he used he’d been using his size subconsciously for years now.

Anything to keep from thinking. The problem was that the more tired he got, the harder the effort to stay thoughtless became.

[Mara]

However, she hadn't been able to rest for long. Others--consistently mainly of impatient Sith--were urging them to keep moving; it wasn't over yet. They had blocked off the rakghouls for now, but it would not be a permanent solution. The monsters would be back. And Xierra understood that, oh, she did. But she would have liked at least a minute or two more to gather her breath and strength. Otherwise she would be entirely useless to any kind of escape plan. For that's what they were involved in now, she realized: getting off of Taris, leaving the destruction behind. War had taken a backseat to the chaos below.

But she would not be left behind, and so she pulled on the Force with what energy she had remaining and managed to find her feet after a couple of false starts. Putting the majority of her weight on her left leg, as her right was screaming at her. The old injury, though healed, was not up to this level of combat, as she was obviously discerning right now. Hadn't been ready for Gargon either, and this was much worse in her mind. It would be something that would always be with her, going forward. Spikes of pain, dull aches, from the lightsaber blade that she had contacted on Rhen Var. Dealt, ironically, by the Sith she had been dueling. Usually it was in the background, and she could ignore it. Now, though... it was a severe hindrance to her ability to get even the simplest tasks completed, after all the strain it had taken fighting the rakghouls for hours.

Xierra went forward to join the others who were gathering near a hallway. Her severe limp giving her a jerky walk and causing her to remain in the back of the group. She decided this wasn't all bad. Despite the uneasy truce with the enemy, she felt better having the Sith in front of her and not at her back. In case that one felt she was 'already dead' as well and decided to end her in front of everyone like the poor trooper. The Falleen wasn't sure if she would be able to fight back in a capable way, if there were to ever happen. So in the rear, she remained, slowly splashing through the cooling pool of rainwater, soothing her feet.

She caught an argument between the Sith who appeared to be the ringleaders of this strange operation. Another leading the way, his lightsaber--green of all things, not the usual red--held high as a glowstick. The trouble appeared to be whether to take the stairs to the top where a shuttle awaited them. Or to try to the turblolift. Xierra groaned inwardly, as her gaze lifted upwards. There was a spasm in her leg just then, a reminder of why the thought of having to tramp up several flights of stairs was not appealing to her. And so she was relieved when it was decided that they could indeed take the 'lift all the way.

One of the last to step inside, she found herself in a front corner of the metal box. Mixed in with both Sith and Jedi, soldiers from either side. Preparing herself for a long ride upwards, she closed her dark eyes, figuring to use the free time she had now to meditate in the Force. Allow her body to recuperate what it could. She wasn't much of a healer--those skills were not her strong suit, as her training had been fairly combat-oriented--but she did what she could. Taking deep breaths, closing herself off from her surroundings, focusing on herself. Drawing energy and strength back slowly as the 'lift cruised. Even around all these beings in close quarters, it was strangely relaxing for the Falleen, and she could feel herself beginning to revive.

Until there was a screech of metal and a thud. Though she hadn't been sure of the building's height--as she ran in, she was not staring at its architecture--she was quite sure their trip had ended prematurely. Opening her eyes, she discovered she was correct; the box was in darkness, and some were murmuring. Rakghouls must have gotten to part of the power grid. The Force was filling with nervousness, the first signs of panic. But Xierra made herself remain calm. After all she had been through, this was nothing. And on the bright side, if they were stuck in the 'lift, the foul pale beasts couldn't get at them. Win-win, in her mind.

As nice as that sounded, though, the survivors could not remain their indefinitely. They had a goal to reach. One of the Sith--a female--tore apart the controls as if to try to get the machine working again. But apparently quickly dismissed the idea, as she waved her hands, manually prying open the 'lift doors with the Force and revealing that they were between floors. Xierra had been thinking along the same lines, but in her current state, it wouldn't have been possible. Not to mention wanting to save her strength for whatever was to come. Because the rakghouls would find them again; she was sure of it.

The odd Sith--the one with the green blade--broken the tense moment of indecision by barreling through to the opening, jumping down and turning back to help others through. This one was an enigma to her, and Xierra had begun to wonder if she was wrong about the man's allegiance. Her certainly wasn't acting like his compatriots. Perhaps she had merely lumped him in with the Sith based on his recent proximity to them, and he was really a Jedi. But in the Force, he didn't feel entirely Jedi-like either. There was definitely some... confusion in his aura.

No time to pursue that line of thought, though; it was her turn to leap down out of the 'lift and into the dim corridor. The immediate threat was the priority; she could deal with the paradoxical man later. Reaching the drop, she made sure to land on her good leg to give herself a sturdy purchase before limping off to the side to allow the rest egress. As she waited for the others to empty out, she scanned the area with the Force. Not sensing anything but those beings nearby, it appeared they were okay, for the moment. But she would keep alert, more than ever, as she moved off with the group, looking for the nearest stairwell.

[Dutch]

From the moment Jessoin’s fingers had hit the fabric of her belt, the zelosian angled them to slide down the back of Tesa’s pants. The longer Tesa took to find her light, the lower his hand moved over the gentle curve. He snickered quietly in the darkness, barely perceivable over the din of hushed chatter. Gripping firmly, he grinned widely behind his rebreather as Tesa shoved the light in his other hand. Dutifully switching it on, he leaned over her to hold it closer to her busy hands. Still cast in shadow, the Sith rubbed her rear appreciatively until she looked up to shake her head. With a mock-dejected sigh he withdrew his hand and stood back with the light now held high to fill the elevator with a faint glimmer.

Tesa forced the doors open, and Jessoin waited for the lift to empty. He turned and swung himself out from it gracefully. Without missing a stride the Sith went from landing to walking, each step splashing lightly in the shallow flooding that covered the floor. He peered around actively, green eyes glowing in the gloom as they flicked all around to take in their surroundings. Plain military-drab walls and decor, the claustrophobic labyrinth of cubicles the only thing Jess was able to see.

“Many corners for beasties to hide…” Jessoin said to no one in particular. Luckily a chance glance lead him to notice a door down a short hall. The set of ninety-degree lines indicative for a stairwell, the Sith motioned for the group to follow. He strode slightly ahead of the group, eyes careful to note anywhere something could try to ambush him. The Sith never stalled, a line made straight for the stairwell before them. The closer he got, the more he could hear the sound of running water. With the splashing of his steps getting louder Jessoin guessed the water was getting slightly deeper the closer he got the the stairs. Pausing before it Jess looked back to the group as they caught up.

“A moment.” Jessoin requested, and turned his attention back to the door.

He put one hand to it, the other urging the group not to stand too close. His eyes fluttered shut, and a sudden pulse within Jessoin would send a ripple of electricity to cascade from elbow to fingertips. The Sith could feel the energies he had released conduct into the water, until they suddenly ceased at the surface. The stairwell wasn’t flooded, that much he could tell. But the way the lightning had somehow moved upstairs was at the moment a mystery to Jess. Lids lifted to reveal glowing emerald irises, and he turned to glance back at the group.

“Might wish to lift your robes.” Jessoin suggested playfully before the Force channeled from his hand to the sliding door. It would move with a restrictive groan but opened about half way. Murky waters instantly rushed from the opening, flooding the hall momentarily before lowering to ankle level. Once the water had settled, the Sith peeked around the corner into the stairwell to see if it was clear. Besides the blinking red hazard lights and steady flow of water down the stairs, it was. Without waiting Jess turned and moved up the stairs swiftly, his long legs taking steps two at a time. The door at the top of the well was wide open, and the room beyond it cast in total darkness.

From inside the zelosian could feel life, but was dormant and comatose. A subtle buzzing in his ears over the living aura’s that normally came off sentients. Cautiously, the Sith stepped onto a platform at the base of the stairs. The top of a smaller set that lead down into the darkness. He considered sheathing his mantle in lightning a moment to provide light, but as the water splashed about his knees at the bottom of the steps Jess considered this a poor idea. Instead his lightsaber flipped to an awaiting hand, and snapped on with the iconic snap-hiss!. Pale cyan light cast around Jessoin, an eerie radiance in the flooded floor of the tower.

A wide open area, with glass walls acting as partitions between grisly looking operation rooms and laboratory equipment. Probably not always splashed with blood, the cause of the dark waters was revealed in the variety of bodies that bobbed in them. Of course. Jessoin shuffled through the murk to the nearest one, face down in a blood-stained lab coat.

“This seems more Republic SIS than military,” Jess started, a mischievously accusing look cast back at the Jedi and Republic troopers. “Experimenting with rakghouls perhaps? How devious... makes you wonder what else your masters research behind your backs…”

With a boot he rolled the body over, and immediately stepped back at the sight. The being would appear entirely humanoid, its body untwisted by mutation or marred by wounds. Yet the face was all wrong, deformed and grotesque the mouth stretched from jaw to jaw in a four-toothed grin. The brow grown wide and low, its face was all scattered hairs and waxy flesh. Two beady black eyes stared aimlessly at opposite sides of the head, still and dull. Yet it gurgled, and its chest rose once in breath. With an angry buzz the Sith’s cyan lightsaber angled and lanced out with a quick stab. It entered the skull and left a perfect circle in the middle of the mutant’s head.

“We have to move forward…” Whispered Jessoin as he angled his saber into a loose guard, then stepped into the damp darkness that loomed all around.

[Meira]

He hesitated. Meira could feel a sense of conflict surrounding the young man. She could not read much farther than that on the surface, and she dared not pry through the force. The last thing she wanted to do when offering help to someone who might be held by users of the dark side was to seem as if she were trying to impose her will. So she remained quiet after her offer, leaving it up to him to respond... or not. In the end, he did respond, and Meira could tell the conflict remained through the tone of his voice. Then he moved for the lift doors. His haste to distance himself only seemed to strengthen her belief that he was not entirely free among these Sith.

As she took her turn to hop down to the floor, Meira moved past him. Making sure to catch his eye, she spoke one last time on the subject. "It is never too late to choose." she said, and then moved away to take up a place along their group's perimeter. She would not force a decision from the man, but it was vital that he knew the decision existed; that it always had, and always would.

"Ma'am"

Meira turned her attention to find one of the Republic soldiers, a sergeant, standing at her side. He kept his voice low so that it did not travel beyond her and asked for her help. Nodding her head, Meira followed the sergeant toward two other soldiers. The whole group moved, following Zarander toward a stairwell. The sergeant took the free arm of a wounded Republic Corporal. The wounded soldier's other arm was over the shoulder of a Sith soldier who helped to bear the corporal's weight, but kept his eyes away and his face blank. Meira walked alongside the three as they moved at the back of the group.

"What's the matter?" she asked, whispering.

"He's lost too much blood, ma'am. We didn't see it earlier because of his armor, but he has a-"

"I told you, it's from the crash." the corporal interrupted. Meira could see in the sergeant's eyes that he wasn't entirely convinced.

They reached the stairwell, and it became obvious that the corporal would not be able to handle the steps. The sergeant and the Sith soldier hooked their arms under each of his legs and hoisted him up. Meira walked behind them, her arm outstretched and her palm against the corporal's back. Her eyes became unfocused as she followed them up the steps. Inwardly, she reached out through the force, searching for the connection that all living things shared. His was weak, as she expected, but there and she followed along the flow through his body until she felt his wounds. She removed her hand.

"Stay alert." she said to the two who carried the corporal. She did not want to say more and so let her eyes convey the unspoken portion of her warning. The two soldiers stiffened, but nodded their response.

The floor they moved into was much darker than the stairwell. Meira pulled her lightsaber from its place on her belt and activated it. The violet gleam illuminated the space around her, and she took a few breaths to steady herself against the sights. Everything around her felt wrong. On guard, she picked her way through the water and bodies until she was once again beside Shatani. Rather than speak, she reached out to him through the force.

"We have a problem." she thought. Drawing on the connection she and Shatani had established in the past, she shared what she'd just gleaned from the corporal's wounds. It wouldn't be long before it became a problem and she was worried that handling it in the wrong way would shatter the fragile and grudging peace of the group.

[DreadPirateMike]

Was Zarander afraid that without regular reminders, those around him would simply forget about his jubilant disregard for life? Such had been Jaidan's read on him, at least, and he was seeing no pressing reason to revise it: the man (For lack of a better term.) could endure, indeed very probably enjoy being abused in any number of fashions, but not ignored. The Zelosian's stunt had certainly gotten the attention of every Force Sensitive present, and Jaidan supposed ennui was as effective in this case as any amount of Jedi training when it came to putting such things in perspective.

He'd been cutting down men like Zarander half the day, and yet evil like this still persisted. That was beyond his control. But just as surely, Jessoin's actions would be his undoing some day with or without his stir. Many Sith throughout history had claimed both great power and an unrestrained willingness to use it; few indeed ever died peacefully, or on their own terms. That wasn't to say the Echani would MIND holding the blade when that end came, but in the interest of necessity, he could wait...a little while.

But that sort of detachment wasn't what he conveyed with a gentle squeeze of Meira's shoulder on the way to the elevator. Given the nature of their lingering bond, he trusted a gentle smile could do the rest. He was standing again, and he'd be standing with her when the time came to act. Whatever the consequences of that action, they'd not be on her alone. He'd dearly like a few minutes of meditation to stop and gather the strength he'd need in that moment, but if he put his mind to it and the respite from Rakghoul attack at least held awhile longer, he could make do on the move.

And that's what he busied himself with right up until Meira found him again, and conveyed the latest wrinkle with the same efficiency he'd managed before. And it was a significant one, even though the Corporal should have several hours at a minimum before the infection took hold.

"The Sith have a serum. Green liquid. Please, begin asking around to see if anyone has some left. The couple as our last resort. We may not need to volunteer the specific need, but if pressed, I think honesty is our best hope."

With that, he finally made his way to the front of the group, just in time for Jessoin's latest attempt at provocation. Infantile.  As if a Jedi General hadn't had the run of this place.  That this Jedi General in particular actually had a fair bit of first-hand knowledge regarding what an SIS operation looked like was hardly information in need of sharing.

"Neural mapping." he simply confirmed. "Viable resettlement here was always going to require up to date profiles of the latest generation's intelligence, sense of smell, and so on. All of which, yes, in turn requires actual Rakghouls. But by all means, imagine whatever dire scenarios you wish."

As it happened, however, Jessoin's twisted imagination was not required. Jaidan had never seen this particular variety of horror before, nor was he inclined to stick around and discover what had brought it about.

"Medical labs mean an infirmary, and we have a man who's not getting any better."  Jaidan closed his eyes a moment then, and when they came open again, his vision cut through the gloom as easily as his lightsaber would, though admittedly the Force showed him the physical characteristics of the building around them only as a hazy and semi-transparent outline.  "West end of this level, if memory serves. That's where we need to look for our next exit."

[Mara]

Once again, Xierra kept towards the back as the group of survivors moved onwards down the hall. Content to let others lead, keeping her Force awareness at full alert, as they searched for a way up. It was nice to have the pressure of her for a while and just be a follower. Even if those currently in charge were not her favorite beings, not by a long shot. But after all, Sith company was better than rakghoul company. If only slightly more so.

She was not looking forward to climbing several flights of stairs in order to make it up to the shuttle at the top of the building. But she also knew she had no other choice, unless they somehow found another working turbolift. An unlikely occurrence. So she just sucked up the pain the best she could and limped on with the others who lagged behind, either due to injury or similar wariness of their newly acquired allies. Prepared to act at a moment's notice of betrayal by the Sith. Or worse...

The water they were wading through seemed to gradually sweep as they walked on. But Xierra wasn't bothered. The cooling liquid was actually helping her out. Seeping into her already damp trousers, wet from the rainstorm outside, which in turn plastered tight against her legs. In any other situation it would have been uncomfortable. However, under these circumstances the wetness seemed to be helping some of the swelling of her old injury that had flared up. Soothing it. By no means was it completely better or even healing but it did ease the pain, dulling it enough that she could focus on other things.

Like slogging through the mini flood in order to start working on the stairwell. Setting her jaw against the occasional flare-up, she went slowly upwards, keeping as much weight off her bad leg as possible as she moved. Xierra held tightly onto the Force as much for strength as for keeping her wits about her. Her rough reptilian feet helped with getting a grip against the wet duracrete, and before she knew it, she was stepping off the landing and into a dark room where the rest of them were already entering, hesitantly.

Within moments, various lightsabers and glowrods were sprung to life, illuminating the large space. The Falleen left her own weapon at her side. She had excellent night vision and could see well enough even without all the glowing blades around. In fact, Xierra was way more concerned with what the Force was telling her and not what her eyes were seeing. Not all of the shadowy bodies that were floating around were dead. And she felt more life besides those, out of sight, perhaps in another room, down a corridor. Her hand hovered towards her lightsaber hilt. The less time they spent in here, the better.

[Ash]

Lancer breathed in heavily, taking a nice breath before slowly letting it out. He did it to calm is temper and is mind, and also to get a feel of what was going on around here. The water didn't have a stagnant smell to it, or stank of any sort of rot from bodies.

He wasn't worried about walking through the water. Moaning and crying about it would get him no where, and he just felt too tired now to bother with it. He simply fell in line with the others, tugging along.

Various light sources came on, from lightsabers to glow rods. Lancer himself didn't bother fallowing suit with most of the others. He had fine vision in whatever lighting.

They found their first body quickly, and the stench of burning flesh touched his nose. He moved forward to see what it was, and his eyes fell on the grotesque individual, now with a hole in his head from a lightsaber.

The Firrerreo readies his spear now, leaving his yellow one collapsed tied to his back, and his red one in a loose guard on his right hand, his left one free. He looked to the white haired Jedi as he spoke about an infirmary, and their wounded. He looked back at the rest of them, looking at the Republic trooper being supported by two other troopers, and the Jedi right next to them.

If it hasn't been done so, you should cauterize his wound. If we all plan on getting out of here alive, we cant stop, as bad as that sounds.

[Squee]

“Your epitaph,” Tesa said, pausing briefly to step off the elevator just after Jession. “I will ensure your epitaph reads ‘The Creepy, Bold One’. Your eulogy will be a horrifying testimony paying complete homage to your creepiness.”

If you want to keep your hand for tonight, I strongly advise you maintain a hands off policy for remaining mission duration.

She decreased her stride, letting Jessoin lead. Tesa lingered in the main body of a rapidly drooping group. Their exhaustion hung on their shoulders. Yet none of them were particularly at ease. Mistrust lingered in a pair of eyes here and there, but guarded wariness was prevalent regarding Jessoin’s presence.

Well and good.

With a gentle push, Tesa’s senses expanded to the soldiers nearest her. She gently tested the resistance of each soul. Little oppression met, Tesa anchored remotely in them – feeling as they did emotionally and physically. A range of fears and anxieties. Each one fueled her, but Tesa understood the necessity of keeping the soldiers from complete panic. A soldier was having frantic concerns about every dark corner.

Laying her hand on the Republic soldier’s shoulder, Tesa presented her flashlight to her. The tension eased from her shoulders as she accepted the flashlight. “Do not shine it into faces.”

Most of the others managed fine until they entered the lab. Fears shifted into the higher spectrums, and Tesa was emboldened by the nightmares whispering in their skulls. The lesser her own fears became.

Tesa paused by a table to pick up a datapad sitting near a full chemistry set and stopped test tubes. For Force's sake, Jess. She fed him her annoyance. Shut the frack uuup..

A low battery symbol and a passkey request appeared on the screen. Turning, Tesa silently stowed the datapad for later analysis.

"Studying virus mutation?" she asked. She listened to Shatani's explanation as she slowly walking around one of the lab tables. "I would still be careful of all the vials." Tesa gestured toward the broken glass walls of observation units and then looked back to the Jedi. "Those may be cells for neural mapping studies. These are chemicals.” Tesa pinched a couple of vials between her fingers and lifted them, reading the label. “Some of them you don’t want touching your skin. I would avoid breaking anything."

She appeared at Jessoin's side and grimaced down at the rolled, half-mutated body. "That's still breathing." Not much longer, as Jessoin pushed his lightsaber through it. A datapad sat at rest on the table near him. She picked it up, doubtful of its helpfulness already. The screen was cracked. Passkey request again. She subtly collected this one, too.

“Which man is it? I have some healing talent,” Tesa said to Shatani.

There was a sharp, sour bark of laughter among the soldiers. “Yeah. Never thought healing would hurt like a motherfu-“

“Real healing doesn’t feel much better, soldier,” Tesa said, bite to her words. “And takes much longer.”

“He says he’ll pass,” another voice said. “The infirmary would be nice, though.”

“Have it his way, then,” Tesa resigned and sloshed through water.

A couple of bodies lay in her path as she walked between lab stations. The first she passed had a gap where the main body of his neck should be. The second twitched and emitted a snort when she nudged it with a wet boot. Hissing in mild surprise, Tesa dispatched the creature, amethyst blade sizzling softly upon water contact.

The water parted against her shins with mild force as she raced to surpass Jessoin at point. There was less light here than the floors below. That knowledge caused a feeling akin to her stomach dropping – a ghost sensation emanating from the bond she shared with Jessoin. His racial anxiety was bothering him, and Tesa strengthened their bond to greedily feast on it.

His cyan blade was bright compared to her purple one, so she switched it off to reduce the colorful glare playing on the ripples. Identifying the infirmary by the posted sign, Tesa entered to find this room entirely unkempt. It had been raided – blood streaked the counters and tables. One impressive, foot wide smear marked a nearby glass wall. Only one cabinet hadn’t been opened. The label read ‘Serums’, and Tesa was sure that would be handy. “What do we need?” She rattled the locked cabinet door.

[Dutch]

Pushpushpush

For extra awesome listen to this while reading

www.youtube.com/watch?v=cDyAouw3nUw

---

Jessoin followed Tesa, his thin cyan lightsaber angled in a low guard. As they waded he could see dozens of other bodies just below the surface. The bloat was beginning to set in, waxy skin stretched across pocked flesh. Some still wore lab coats and guard uniforms while others were disturbingly nude. Jess turned his attention to Shatani a moment, a coy grin winking in his eyes. With an elbow the Sith nudged the Jedi and gestured to a pale ass that bobbed in the water in front of the echani. Despite the jest, Jessoin couldn’t deny the tingle at the base of his skull. Not something of the Force, but something older. Something primordial. A tiny voice at the edge of sense shrieking for him to find light. The Sith knew this anxiety, had faced it time and again since he was a lad. The zelosian racial curse.

He did his best to keep his mind busy, just as the Jedi instructed so long ago. Focus on the now, not the abyssal unknown of pressing darkness. Jessoin turned from Shatani to drift a gaze down the shadowy curve of Tesa’s back, and the shift of her muscle beneath the bodysuit. When she turned into the lab infirmary Jessoin positioned himself at the door, glowing green eyes surveying through the glass walls of this floor.

They narrowed above his breath mask, oblivious to the passing others. Just out of vision he could swear there was movement, difficult with the myriad of reflected lightsabers splashed all around them. That subtle anxiety swelled louder, an icy pool in Jessoin’s abdomen. Just before the last couple Jedi entered, his gloved hand reached out to grip Meira’s shoulder.

“Wait.” His voice crackled through the rebreather. Jess turned to face the Jedi, though his eyes remained vigilant to the phantoms in the blind. The fear crept deeper into his limbs, but the Sith gave no outward sign of the discomfort.

“There’s movement in the dark.” Jessoin continued with a nod down the mirrored glass corridor which lead to inky gloom. “I think. Not sure if you’re aware of my people’s… situation.” The zelosian finally looked at Meira, his eyes suggesting a sheepish grin beneath the mask.

“Let us just say I enjoy Korriban most for the sun.” He said, finishing that thought. “I need to secure this floor while the others tend to the wounded, but would be suicidal if I’m right.” With a gesture from his lightsaber Jessoin affirmed his intention.
“Shatani and Tesa can more than protect the others. I need your help, little Flower.” His eyes turned to the others that stayed outside. Jessoin wasn’t sure if the other Jedi knew of the zelosian’s history with their comrade. Or if they suspected some strange familiarity between himself and the kiffar.

“Or anyone, really.” He added before his shoulders rolled with a languid shrug.

Without waiting for the Jedi, Jessoin spun his saber in a makashi flourish to angle down behind him. The Force gathered into the other hand, and the Sith stepped alone into the dark. Next to the panic in his chest lay the slightest hope that somebody would follow him.

That he wouldn’t have to face the dark alone.

***

“You know, all zelosians feel this in the dark. Completely normal.”

Jessoin’s voice crackled quietly in the black. He paused momentarily and turned to look back from where they came. The area was complete pitch, a murky desert with a single distant oasis of glowing lightsabers. The infirmary. By Jess’ guess himself and Meira were some thirty meters away from the group now, a testament to the sheer size of the Tarisian superstructure.

So far there had been nothing, no monsters skulking and hunting them. Not even any bodies anymore, the dark waters empty of pale floaters. Perhaps they drifted in some small unfelt current. That silent answer did little to quiet the anxieties that nested in the fringes of the Sith’s mind. Jessoin opened himself to these emotions. He could feel the generated energies tingle throughout his muscles, coiled and prepared for anything. Paranoia or no.

“Zelos II has a parasite most don’t know exist. They only move in darkness… and prey on lost stragglers. Jumpers, we call them.” Jess rambled. “Known to drag family off in the night… and leave nothing but blood spatter… Not unlike these beasties...”

There was little Jessoin could do to hide the tremble in his voice. A flare of indignant anger ignited around him a moment, heated shame at the phobia. A quick thing, he covered his momentary loss of composure with a muffled cough. He refused to turn towards Meira for a long moment, unwilling for his eyes to meet hers.

A loud splash in the distance instantly ignited Jess’ basest instincts, emerald eyes wide as the Sith whirled to face where he thought the sound came from. His heart hammered loudly in his ears, the buzzing that accompanied second only to the thrum of his lightsaber.

Another splash. This one louder and behind Jessoin. Again the Sith spun, a hiss of displeasure escaped from the rebreather as he flourished his cyan weapon in agitation. He was all but blind in this darkness, vision limited to the low glow of Meira’s purple weapon and his own. All he saw was the reflection of both lightsabers off glass walls and water.

“I don’t like this…” Another splash, again closer but to their left. “I really don’t like this…” Jessoin hissed as the Force warped audibly around him. Sheer primordial terror filled his senses to a screaming limit, his body trembling from a mixture of adrenaline and pent up energies. Even through the mask, Jess could smell the pungent odor of whatever lurked in the enigmatic darkness. Through the Force he could feel something. Not quite the rabid hunger that came with the rakghouls, but something that felt…lost. Panicked. Confused.

Out of the darkness lurched someone, the stained labcoat he wore similar to those Jessoin saw floating earlier. With an angry buzz the Sith angled his weapon defensively, sweat-soaked brow furrowed in distrust. Head bowed and shoulders slumped, the wheezing survivor splashed closer with both hands cradling his face. Before Jess could warn Meira not to go near it, the man shuddered and shrieked horridly. Not the hunting cry of a rakghoul, simply a man wracked with agony and woe.

Without waiting Jessoin’s blade angled and lanced forward to stab clean into the man’s chest. It slid easily through, the hiss and rank of soft meat being cooked filled the air. The man shrieked again, but only pressed to attack; his face inches from Jessoin’s as grotesquely deformed jaws snapped for flesh.

What was once a likely human face had appeared to melt then re-solidify. A prominent disfigured brow pushed bulbous eyes to the side, and the skin at his cheeks split to allow the jaw to swing impossibly wide. Teeth replaced by four large canines, ropes of thick drool hung from his slackened maw. One of the final stages of the rakghoul infections, as Imperial Intelligence had warned them. The Sith hacked in disgust, and his lightsaber swung upward to cleave the creature nearly in two. From further in the dark he could hear more splashing. Dozens at least.

“... Damn.” Jessoin once more grabbed Meira’s shoulder, and strong-armed her alongside him as he back-peddled. “Go. That infirmary is a death-trap if they don’t flee now.” He felt her hesitation. “Stuff your Jedi nobility and go!” Jess commanded with a shove to get Meira away from him. He brought one armored gauntlet up to point at her. Almost as if to dare her to resist. Yet his eyes suggested something, some unspoken concern that drifted heavily upon his thoughts. Someone he needed to survive.

“Go... I’ll be right behind.” Jessoin reached up with that same gauntlet to clutch the front of his rebreather. The Force began to build up around him, a heavy and dark cloud which whispered wordless tribulation. With a click and a whir the mask was removed to reveal the Sith’s defiant grin. Jess let it go, and the rebreather splashed into dark water.

Once emerald eyes flickered and waned into slowly sharpening gold. As the dark-side exuded further around Jessoin, specks of searing red began to blossom within his iris’. Fully tainted by the dark-side in mere seconds. His training under the Sith had all been for moments like this. No holding back, no survivors.

Glowing caustically in the darkness, a single baleful eye winked at the Jedi before he turned with grin still plastered to face the enemy. Just in time as the mutating ghouls crashed out from the gloom, revealed in the cyan light of the Sith’s saber. One lunged forward only to be expertly beheaded, and another quickly after. Closer now, Jessoin could feel the attackers as their numbers swelled in the hall before him. More than he could possibly hope to hold with lightsaber alone. His heart seized with the realized nightmare, endless horrors in the night coming for his flesh.

Voice caught in his throat, Jessoin hissed and spat as he dipped and dodged the creatures awkwardly in the high waters. Soaked through from splashing and humidity alike, the Sith was as agitated as he could get. His free hand would ball into a tight fist, channeling the darkness that seeped everywhere into it. Lightning wasn’t an option, lest he wanted to kill everything on this floor. Jess was left with only one option. After all; lightning was not the deadliest tool in his arsenal. The Sith cleared his throat, and breathed the Force deep into his lungs. And held it.

All around the glass would begin to groan and wobble, disturbed by the swelling energies that thundered into Jessoin. Teeth gritted by the sheer volume of the dark-side, he leaped forward with an ataru styled flip. Now deep within the crowd, the number of the threat became clear. Lungs screaming in protest Jessoin held everything in until he simply couldn’t contain it anymore. He released, and the Force exploded out from the Sith’s mouth.

A blast. A sonic-boom that rattled everything near Jess. Diabolically low yet disturbingly shrill the sound could be both heard and felt radiating in the Force. Faster and fiercer it stacked, waves of hatred and malice made physical clutched all around the zelosian. The longer the scream lasted, the more forceful the phantom crush.

The ghouls around Jess gripped their skulls and flailed, the Force scream sustained further as his own jaw seemed to drop inhumanly low. Luminescent red eyes glared out searingly as he pushed every drop of fear and frustration outward. Several of the ghouls dropped dead, tainted blood gushing out from every orifice. Still the note held, Jessoin’s hands balled into fists and drawn closer to his chest as the tone filled the air and grew even more piercing. One by one the glass walls around the zelosian shattered explosively, the pain from shards of cutting glass only stoked the fires further. Held until the ground felt it were near shattering, a sharp inhale from Jessoin ended the tone. Muffled silence replaced the only sound momentarily his as he stood there and panted from the effort. Eyes regarded the once again floating bodies suspiciously. Surely they were dead now.

“Stay down.” Croaked Jessoin. As if in answer, the ceiling above him reverberated with a strained groan. Oh don’t even… Jess thought as his gaze regarded the new lack of walls around him. He peered upward with a disbelieving gaze, only to pull back in time for the whole thing to suddenly collapse into the waters before him.

With it came the surprised howls of the dozens of rakghouls which dropped in too. Followed the replying howls from the legion that had filled the floor above them. Barely able to breath the exhausted Sith turned and ran the best he could. The sounds of the hungry beasts behind him closer than he liked, he reached through his bond with Tesa.

RUN!