The Pale Tide

[Meira]

Meira nodded as she felt Shatani's reply move through her mind. As he moved forward, she moved toward a small cluster of soldiers who'd formed together as the group moved through the bodies and the water. She could feel their anxiety as she approached, and did her best to calm the air around them with her own presence. It helped, but only marginally.

"We need to take stock of our supplies." she said, affecting the authoritative voice she knew soldiers would find familiar. "Do any of you have stims, or serums? Maybe a kit?"

Most of the soldiers in the group shook their head. Two produced a few stims each. Meira nodded her head and thanked the soldiers, telling them to hold on to them, but to be ready to help if the need arose. When she heard the female Sith speak, Meira felt a ripple run down her spine. Their version of healing was a grotesque approximation; to spite the body just to close a wound was not true healing. She at least had the humility to admit she felt a little shame when she was relieved the soldier turned down the Sith's offer.

The group began to move again as Shatani led them toward what he believed was the medical wing. Meira lingered, allowing herself to be the last of the group to move. From her place at the back, she could see each being's silhouette as the waded through the water and the dead, accented by the different colors of light. One by one, those being entered a walled off area, which must have been the med bay. She took her place as the others filed in, but was stopped when a hand gripped her arm.

She could feel a shock of ice run through her body at his touch. At first, she didn't want to acknowledge him, but that was fear. She could not give in to fear. Not here. Not in front of him. Her green eyes lifted to look at him, but his were drifting... searching in the darkness beyond the pool of light they'd created. It was hard to read those eyes, and even harder to read his voice through the mask, but Meira had connected with Zarander once before and what lingered in that connection gave her pause. This was more than just wariness.

She shook her head at his question, but then seemed to glean a bit of understanding at his mention of Korriban and its sunlight. She almost smiled at the irony; a Sith... afraid of the dark. He then stated his intention, and his request. Meira's first instinct was to ignore him and enter the medical wing, but then his eyes glanced toward the others of their party. She could not, in good conscience, watch some soldier follow Zarander off into the dark. Not after what she'd seen at the entrance to the base. She sighed, then reached out to Shatani again.

I don't know if Zarander is up to something, she thought, but I don't think I should let him out of my sight. Let me know if you find anything.

***

"Who are you trying to convince?" she replied to his comment.

The darkness they moved through now seemed even more complete than before, somehow. It was as if the black was near solid around them and they were pressing through as it opened before them and closed behind. There was no denying Zarander's anxiety now. Away from the others, his was clear as day to her. And, as seemed his custom, Zarander chose to speak through it. Meira listened, but did not respond. She was of the mind that they should speak as little as possible, and probably extinguish their blades. But she had a feeling that wouldn't help her companion in the least.

Then, a splash. Meira halted in her movements as Jess whirled. Taking a breath, she tried to send out her senses, but his near panic wasn't helping. Another splash and more movement from the Sith.

"Calm down." she whispered when he spoke. Pull it together, she thought.

No use. Zarander was literally seething within the Force and Meira actually recoiled from him. The sensation of the fear and paranoia was almost painful to her. How could he stand it?

A body lurched into their pool of light and Meira, distracted, stumbled backwards. Zarander engaged the being, ending it, but it seemed their presence was now well known by the beasts in the dark. She could feel them moving in. Again, she felt Zarander grab her arm, but this time his strength was behind it. He pushed her, telling her to go back to the infirmary. She dug her feet into the floor as best as she could. It would do them no good to separate. One or both of them would be killed on their own.

“Stuff your Jedi nobility and go!”

He pushed her, hard. Meira stumbled back, falling to her knees in the water. Her lightsaber submerged and cut out. She was in the dark now, at the edge of the light from Zarander's saber. She scrambled to her feet, watching as his face transformed. She could feel her heart rate increasing, reacting to the eddies of the force as they swirled around him.

Shatani, she called out. Get them out of there. He felt so far away, she wasn't sure if the message got through. There was so much pain in the Force around her, she couldn't feel her way through it. Her lightsaber wouldn't reignite. She was alone in the dark.

Meira moved as best as she could through the pitch black. The infirmary was a tiny dot of light, impossibly far ahead of her. He was behind her. She could feel his rage and his terror, pulsing out in waves as the beasts moved in on him. She stumbled over something submerged in the water, almost falling back to her knees. She braced herself against the wall. That was when she felt the rumble. All of the sudden, it was as if a current was pushing against her. The Force moved like a tide and she could tell it was being pulled toward him. Meira glanced back over her shoulder. She could barely see. It was as if the air itself was vibrating. Whatever he was doing, she felt sick just witnessing it.

Unable to walk against the pull, Meira lowered herself down, trying to make herself as small as possible. She put her hands over her ears and tried to center herself. Slowly, she wrapped what tendrils of the Force that she could around herself like a cocoon. It was a feeble shell, but it was all she could muster. Then he screamed.

She was wracked by the force of it. At first, it moved around her. But slowly, she could feel it eating through the meager protection she'd built around herself. It felt as if her flesh was being torn away, layer by layer. Her own voice cried out at the pain. She was sure she'd be dead. But then it stopped.

She gasped, coming to her feet and stumbling a few steps; she was a creature trying to escape. The air felt cleaner now, and she pulled it in with desperate gulps. She was dizzy. She would faint and drown face down in the water. She would become one of those things.

In a last attempt at survival, Meira suddenly found her connection to Shatani. Like a strong rope, she gripped tight to it. Jaidan! She called out, pulling on their connection. She was not proud of it, but she pulled on his strength as well. She knew he was fatigued, but an animal drive pushed her to siphon some of what he had left. Tears welled in her eyes. I'm sorry.

But it worked. She felt a surge of strength within her bones and Meira began to run. It didn't matter that she couldn't see. She had to get back. She had to warn them. When the shapes of things began to materialize around her, Meira realized that Zarander was also running, and had caught up to her. She could feel the beasts, all around, in pursuit. She pushed deep. She would have to keep pace with Zarander if she was going to survive.

A rumble overhead caused Meira to glance up. She could see a crack racing through the duracrete, faster than even their sprint. There was a groan of stone and metal and Meira reached out, grabbing Zarander's clothing and using a bit of the Force to strengthen her arm and she jerked them to a stop. The ceiling gave out in front of them just a moment later. But there was no time to waste pondering the closeness of death in front of them. It was just as close behind.

"Come on!" she urged, and darted through a doorway at their right. They moved, a blur, through a corridor, then an open, empty room. The only way out was through a glassless window frame. On the other side, the darkness opened up into a vast, deep nothingness.

The fort was built with what might have been a beautiful feature in the past. The grand atrium at the center of the structure created an open space that ran upwards through the center of the fort from the ground floor nearly to the highest level. All floors circled this atrium, with large viewing platforms and windows opening to the space. Now, it was an abyss with scaffolding clinging to the walls and rising up like vines through the levels. Meira nearly careened off one of these scaffolding platforms as she raced through the window frame in her blind flight. She grabbed hold of one of the support beams to stop herself, panting, over the pit. She could feel Zarander beside her, also out of breath.

Another groan. Another rumble. And then she was falling.

[DreadPirateMike]

"Close ranks, and watch your corners."

Jaidan didn't know if he'd ever be entirely used to the title of general that the military had bestowed upon him. In some part at least, his mind would always associate that title with watching the battle play out on a holo-map. Generals were the people hunched over the projector table; he was the one who'd blown up that table. But he WAS growing into the role, over time, and he'd picked up a few useful skills of the trade. At times like this, the ability to make one's voice carry long and powerfully without actually yelling, without implying that loss of control was one of the most valuable. He'd kept his foils at his belt up until now; he had better options available for penetrating the darkness, if need be, and until enemy contact was actually made, the tangible reassurance of the weapon in his hand hadn't seemed worth the significance of another weapon drawn to all the warriors who feared this alliance degenerating into a bloodbath. He drew one now, but let it continue slumbering for the moment.

"If you think you see movement, report and await confirmation. Hold your fire unless you have eyes on target within a 30 foot radius. We'll all find Rakghouls a good deal more dangerous if you've spent your power cells shooting at shadows."

He fell in crisply at the head of the armed formation, and led them as brisk a pace as the two soldiers supporting their wounded fellow could manage without injuring their charge further. In this way, he made for the infirmary, troubled only by the Firrereo he’d clashed with that morning trying to be helpful, and Zarander trying to be...Zarander. Only the former rated a verbal response. The Sith simply got an arched eyebrow...and then a glance up ahead, at the corresponding bit of the advancing Tesa’s anatomy. Whether Jessoin took it to mean ‘That could be here, you know.’ or simply ‘I prefer that one’, he neither knew, nor cared. Technically, neither interpretation would, strictly speaking, be wrong, and in any case it seemed a likely diversion for the attention that Jaidan could do without. And so he, in turn, redirected his focus to Diarmuid.

“Cauterizing was the first thing I did when I found him. It wasn’t enough. And I have no intention of leaving this place, so long as even one of us remains alive and inside. But my priorities needn’t be yours, Lancer, not anymore. Move at whatever pace you like, if those odds seem more favorable to you.”

The pledge was sincere enough, of course. The Jedi could justly be accused of their flaws, perhaps, but empty braggadocio was not among them, and he’d wield that conviction right alongside his blades when the time came. But sincerity made no difference when it came to the state he found the infirmary in, and that cast serious doubt on his ability to fulfill his promise to the wounded soldier. His time spent assisting at Drix’s clinic had honed his modest knowledge of the Force’s capacity to heal into a pretty effective diagnostic tool, but when it came to actually repairing more than superficial tissue damage, his best remedy was still bandages, auto sutures, kolto...none of which a cursory inspection found intact. Tesa’s discovery didn’t negate that rather serious problem, but it was exciting nonetheless, and a brief, careful ignition of his foil had the cabinet laid bare to his inspection.

Green, green, green...almighty Force, please, Jaidan thought.

Tesa snorted as Jaidan brutishly opened the cabinet. Could he not take charge of everything? He needn’t to. She was quite capable of autonomously breaking into one stupid locked cabinet. Casting a brief, displeased glance his way, Tesa reached in and rootled around her side of the shelves.

“The contagion.” he demanded abruptly, turning to make eye contact with all Sith present, Knight and grunt alike. “We’re aware the Sith came here with a serum. That, at least, is not a concern on your part, correct?”

She withdrew her hand when Shatani addressed the Sith present. Shaking her head, Tesa met his attempt at a dominant gaze. But she was close enough to see the bloodshot of his tired eyes and the droop in his upright posture. The man was exhausted.

The Sith soldiers muttered to each other, but it was Tesa who answered him. “No. Most of them did not receive a vial.”

Her skin tingled with half a dozen pairs of eyes. Tesa was acutely aware of the distrust between the Empire soldiers and members of the Sith Order. Truly, they could not be blamed. In the eyes of their military leaders, the self-proclaimed Sith Order were usurpers of the Empire. The Order had cancerously injected with the Empire’s politics and troubles with their own, under the pretense of infallible guardianship.

One Sith soldier shifted half a step toward her. “And what of you? Do you have the cure?”

“No,” Tesa said evenly. Quietly, she hoped Diarmuid would swallow any argument to her word. It would do nobody any good to know they had, or did, carry the serum.

The soldier’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. Tesa could feel the steady grow of tension across the small space. “I think you’re lying,” the soldier said, huffing in challenge.

Tesa turned again to reach among the shelves.

“You always lie,” the soldier went on. “Your kind.”

“This is not appropriate,” Tesa remarked, shooting him a sour expression.

“It’s appropriate if you’re cheating us for your own betterment!” A couple of voices muttered agreement. “You care nothing for us!”

Tesa’s fist crashed onto the counter, and a few jumped. She fixed her amber gaze on the soldier. “I advocated for you to receive the cure before you came to Taris, dammit, and to equip those already here! To wait for this day until we had produced enough serum. I wanted you all to have it. Not one of you should suffer the virus. Not after your duty and dedication to this cause!”

They looked at her with stunned expressions. The soldier who’d challenged her stood with mouth open.

“Do you think all your leaders agree?” Tesa addressed him. “Or is it believable for a few of us to be outvoted?”

No reply came from the soldier. Tesa took a quick breath and faced Jaidan. “Where is the soldier?” She held out her arm and unfurled her fist. In her palm rested a small vial of green liquid. “I think it’s a test batch,” she said, voice low. Her index finger indicated the symbols on the side of the vial.

“Sturran, Vex, bring him forward, please.” Jaidan replied in an even tone, for which he had to thank his Jedi training twice over. His surprise was considerable, after all, when he saw what lay in Tesa’s hand, and so was his concern; judging by the angry shout that sounded off behind him, he wasn’t the only one who’d seen it. At any other time, confirmation of animosity between the Sith Order and the regular military they’d assumed control over would be a tantalizing revelation, and later on, it might well STILL be. Right now, sadly, dissent in the ranks was the very last thing they needed.

Fortunately, fate intervened at the last moment. How far was a bit difficult to determine. On his side of the cabinet, third shelf down, he spotted a small, clear topped plastic box, labeled “Test Batch C-15.” Inside, nestled within their cradles, were 6 disposable transparisteel auto-injectors. Their contents: green, just like the stuff Novus, and now Tesa had. That sort of durable housing suggested they were confident they had something pretty valuable on hand, didn’t it? Nodding to Tesa to proceed as the afflicted soldier was brought forward, and putting aside his history with the woman to mouth a silent “Thank you.”, he quickly grabbed the serum out of its container, and with all six vials in hand, turned to intercept the newly enraged Sith trooper stepping forward.

“You want to live...Specialist?” he concluded after a moment to study the man’s rank insignia.

“What kind of a dumbass question is that, Jedi?”

The question was snarled at him by a man who either had an overabundance of courage or simply had found himself overflowing with the frustration of having been struggling to survive this long. Either way, he at least stopped. A Jedi Knight standing in one’s path was a difficult thing to simply ignore. Particularly, he suspected, when you’d trained with the expectation of one trying to kill you.

“A pertinent one. I suggest you think on whatever it is you want to do right now. Let it play out in your head to its conclusion, and see if you can envision it ending particularly well for any of us. And then, decide if you like my alternative better.”

With that, he presented three of the green vials, which, after a moment, the soldier hesitantly took.

“Now, YOU carry the means for betterment, and the decision for how to use it. But do the math. Keep your eyes open, your weapon ready, but most of all, your head CLEAR. And stay alive.”

Handing off the other three vials to a Republic soldier, and silently hoping he hadn’t simply handed them all a placebo, he returned to the patient, and assessed his condition. He needed more than the serum to get him moving. He made and kept eye contact with the frightened young man, but his next question was to Tesa.

“Are you still willing to heal him?”

Tesa nodded, gloved fingers poking softly at the cauterized gash. The corporal made a low moan. “Yeah, I know,” she muttered, disliking what she saw. The crudely closed wound was weepy still, and the black char was striped with raw flesh and oozy blood.

The stab of fear electrocuted her spine, and Tesa jolted in surprise. The frantic burst was from Jessoin; acutely realizing his darkest nightmares were true. Breathing deep and steadying herself, she looked to Jaidan. “I believe we’re about to have rude surprise,” she said quickly. Flipping the clasp tightening her glove, Tesa struggled briefly with removing the apparel.

She laid a hand on his forehead. His skin was cool and sticky with sweat. Snapping her fingers, she ordered one helper to lift his legs onto the table. “It hurts,” she told Jaidan, “when I do it. All I do is accelerate the process, but I have yet to control pain.”

“Then leave that part to me.” Jaidan offered, willing the calm confidence in his voice to overpower the foreboding sense of how unpleasant the task before him was likely to be. Which, quite understandably, failed to provide much comfort for the soldier who had no reason at all to consider his problems.

“Corporal, this wouldn’t be my first choice either, but it IS our only one. This infirmary is skragged, and I can’t get you on your feet in the time we have. But I think I CAN do something for the pain.”

“Appreciated, sir.”

“Then maintain eye contact, and just concentrate on me. I’ll take it from there.”

His deficiencies, in this particular case, essentially boiled down to a question of brute force, the severity of the physical trauma outstipping his ability to quickly repair it. Finesse, thankfully, was less of a handicap, and he was soon prepared to stimulate a massive endorphin rush.

“Still, bite this.” Tesa offered her glove up to the corporal’s mouth. She then eyeballed Jaidan. She hadn’t anticipated him doing anything stupid by telling him about the pain; more warning him of inevitable screaming.“You won’t bite your own tongue off? I have a second glove.”

“Thank you, no.” he replied, keeping his eye contact on the soldier and initiating a low level telepathic link. Whatever agony remained would be spread out among two. “Please, proceed.”

“All right then.”

Much of what assaulted him through his link to the patient was not technically a surprise. He hadn’t expected it to ITCH quite that much on top of the pain, almost as though there was a small swarm of antz biting at his midsection. But the burn was to be expected, if hardly appreciated on top of that already received; at a molecular level, heat was essentially just speed, and the healing was being sped up by several orders of magnitude. The stinging, though, if that was the right word...where Levin, the master healer, would banish the injury and coax the body into recovery, Tesa simply seemed to bully the skin into confronting the damage and drag it through the repair. It felt surprisingly like having the flesh torn in the first place.

But that was all manageable, dulled as if by strong drink by the release of the human body’s natural painkillers. He’d not claim it was easy, enduring the process in silence, but he’d endured all this before.

But then came that which he could not have expected, and could not simply shrug off. First, the surge of panic that assaulted him, which he realized after a moment did NOT originate with the soldier. His conscious mind caught up a moment later, and provided him with its source, but he had no extra time to worry about Meira, for just then, she took action. After a full day of fighting an increasingly uphill battle against all comer for his survival, to suddenly feel the strength he’d called on to hold all that at bay rushing out of him like water from a punctured drum, in the midst of this latest struggle...he hurriedly killed his link with the soldier so as to prevent the inevitable from bleeding past him, but he could do no more. Eyes shooting wide in alarm, breath reduced to a series of shuddering gasps, he helplessly felt his legs give out under him before he plunged face first into the water submerging the infirmary floor.

And once more, a spike of fear punched through Tesa. She gasped, rudely disrupted from her healing meditation. RUN!, she heard clearly. “Time to go!” With a snarl, she drew the white fear deeply into her, until she could feel its energy in her veins. “You!” she called at a Republic soldier, and gestured at Jaidan.

“Pick him up.  Move your asses! Go left! The hall, right, we passed earlier! Now!”

[Fromikeable]

Ugh. More yelling. More terseness. Stressed voices, tense muscles, reserved presences, and tension in the air so thick you could cut it with a knife. Vance just didn’t have the constitution or energy to deal with any of it right now. Voices had degraded from expressions of persona to just noise, and were easy enough to tune out when you had to focus to hear them anyway.

No, the thing more concerning to him was the growing pain in his side.

He’d staked out a soaked, moist seat when they’d arrived at the infirmary, more or less ignoring everyone else once he’d realized that they wouldn’t be moving for a minute. There was plenty going on, he was sure, but focus and attention was a commodity he was beginning to notice he had in short supply. Odd. In a way it was comfortable; after a day of trauma and pain, numbness was a welcome friend.

Enough of him still cared enough to be concerned, however. Even if it was a nice change of pace, numbness wasn’t a good sign. Considering the pain in his side seemed to be the only exception, he undid a few ties in his dark robes. He noted how grimy they’d become, almost slick and wet. Was it mud? Water? Blood? It was so hard to tell.

Undoing the outermost one and shrugging it off, the apprentice slipped a hand under his inner robes, navigating under his undershirt and gently wrapping around his si-

FU- He bit down hard on his lip, immediately darting out his hand. Force, did that hurt.

Looking down and wincing off as much of his panic as he could, he tried again, being doubly cautious this time. He could feel… skin… skin… wet skin… wet shirt… and another jolt of pain was accompanied by the feeling of dried blood and…

… well, he could only best describe it as the feeling of a porkchop.

Lightly prodding the wound, a wave of panic did its best to overwhelm his intense exhaustion. Though it failed, it did make him inspect via touch. It wasn’t large… about the size of a half dollar. It wasn’t a bite or a cut so much as… well, a tear, like something sharp had sunk in and been pulled hard horizontally. There was something solid he couldn’t feel in it. Hard, whatever it was, and soaked in blood.

A yank and a muffled yelp of pain got it out. Dragging it out of his shirt revealed it to be a broken fang.

I’ve been bit. The panic did its best to overwhelm him again, but his exhaustion still held strong. Throwing the tooth into the water submerging the floor, Vance closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply. Sitting back in the chair, he tried to relax, tried to see if he could feel anything in his ribs besides the incessant stinging.

… until there was a loud splash and a sharp command to run.

Vance’s body reacted before his mind could, jetting up out of the chair quick before checking for his saber. Another small wave of panic beset him before he remembered it was back on his belt, giving him just enough time to register the source of the splash; someone in robes and armor face-down in the water. Still operating on pure instinct, he trudged over, grabbing their head and bringing it back to the air first.

He was a bit too tired to put names to faces, but they were still breathing. That was all that mattered at the moment.

From that point, he continued on auto pilot. His body expressed its extreme displeasure at the idea of carrying someone again today, but an odd sort of primal motivation (aided by the numbness) saw Vance hefting the body off the floor. With a few huffs and groans, the man was slowly slung over his shoulder, the pain leaking through his apathy just enough to make him grimace.

He silently thanked the Force for his broad shoulders before finally following the main command. His spent legs began to carry both him and his passenger further than they would ever want to again.

[Dutch]

In that moment, there was only fight or flight. Though Meira was nearby he did little to protect her, the kiffar’s own response keeping her plenty alive it seemed. Himself too apparently as her presence in the Force would suddenly swell. With strength far sterner than what her frame suggested she yanked him to a stop, one of Jessoin’s lanky legs still swinging out from momentum alone. The collapse that cut off their rendezvous with the group stopped his heartbeat a moment, his fiery eyes wide with shock. They looked down to Meira in disbelief but a moment before the Jedi tugged forcefully again.

Right behind her down the uncollapsed corridor, he took the respite from combat to steady himself. Just as the Sith had taught him, Jessoin steeled himself with the horror that gripped his core. Slowly at first his presence would rise, gentle embers of malice stoked with bolts of outrage. Outrage at this plague keeping him from her.

The wall before Jess would crumble as a huskier red rakghoul lunged and snapped for Meira’s ankle; a nearer miss than the Jedi even realized. With a leap Jessoin flipped into the air, his eyes a renewed glowing red as the Force gripped at the tumbling ghoul’s throat. The Sith landed expertly, his balled fist raising high to lift the choking ghoul into the air. Molten hatred easily buoying the beast before the zelosian pushed the new corpse into the rushing tide behind them.

Another push into the bulk of the horde, and Jessoin was quick to follow Meira into the empty room. Just as fast as he had replenished himself, Jessoin could feel his presence dwindle from fatigue. They had less than a moment before the horde would arrive, but the Sith couldn’t look away from the colossal atrium before them. A low whistle came from him as he moved forward, his lightsaber now switched off and clipped to his belt.

Untold stories down the pit went, darkness taking the atrium walls long before any sort of bottom was scene. Mostly ruined by what appeared to be an ancient fire, the entire area was a network of construction scaffolding. Suddenly he could feel Tesa’s presence again. Their chain lead his eyes direct to her.

And there she was; nearly across the endless pit before them, he could actually see her. Perhaps a level or two higher than himself and Meira now. Breath shallow and uneven, he stepped forward to stand next to the Jedi. His searing red gaze fixed upwards on Tesa, he barely regarded the rest of the survivors with her. Time seemed slow around him as he watched, his chest seizing at the realization that this could be the last he lay eyes on Tesa. That this could be it.

The Force rang angrily in the back of Jessoin’s skull, and reality gripped him. He hopped up to grab the nearest scaffold rail above him. Just in time as the neglected platform collapsed, and Meira with it. Not a second before two rakghouls flew out of the window in attempted pursuit. They tumbled end over end into the pit, their howls echoing until the Sith simply didn’t hear them anymore. With no time to search for the fallen Jedi, Jessoin was urged to keep fleeing. He knew the pair that followed Meira were the heralds of the horde, and the zelosian began to climb. Fatigue and panic shook every limb as he ascended, careful enough to only grab rails and platforms that felt stable. Not so high above him he could see a massive hole in the side of the Tarisian structure. Rain from the cataclysmic storm outside gushed into the atrium from the hole, a natural waterfall from the sky.

The sudden staccato of snapping and rakghoul snarls drew Jessoin’s gaze lower. The horde had caught up, and several now fell as the section of rails they had dimly overloaded cracked and crumbled. Several floors below him, the Sith hadn’t even realized his own progress over the rakghouls. For now he seemed to hold their attention, unknowing of the wooden ramp behind them that could lead straight up to join the ghouls that pursued Tesa. A spike of rage at the thought filled Jessoin, and his palm crackled with energy before he blasted the nearest cluster of rakghouls.

“Here!” Spat the Sith with another bolt from the same hand. Stalwart intent and indignant pride swelled within his chest, and Jessoin opened himself as fully as possible to the Force which pervaded the atrium. Caustic crimson eyes found Tesa once more, the ball of emotion in his chest tightening further as his other hand lifted to point towards her. He affirmed himself in their bond, his presence searing through the Force directly for her. In it he poured his gathering vitality, empowering the woman in a great flood. With it, a singular desire; indomitable and undeniable one single word was sent.

SURVIVE

His stalling complete, Jessoin turned and leaped a few meters higher with a boost. The rakghouls swarmed where he had been half a second later, and another blast of lightning from the Sith ignited their chase instinct. They followed, sparing Tesa’s group a second horde on their heels. Exactly as the zelosian wanted.

Jessoin let the Force flow through him, each leap and grapple chosen through instinct alone. It was with him, as each rail and platform held true to the fleeing Sith. Higher and higher, as far away as he could possibly muster from Tesa. He flipped high to clutch a singular pole which jut above him. His grip held true, but Jess still felt a shock of panic as the whole atrium suddenly echoed with a massive groan. A series of snaps sounded as the entire section of scaffolding around him suddenly broke from the walls.

Down below the rakghouls had filled the vine-like scaffolding, veins filled with swarming pale monstrosities. The weight was simply too much, and dozens of rakghouls plummeted into the inky abyss. Jessoin cursed loudly, his grip held firm as he was basically dangled out for the ghouls. The horde began to work its way onto the section, jaws filled with ropey saliva in anticipation.

The Sith swung by one hand, the other kept free just in case. Yet exhaustion still wracked his body, and his arm shook visibly. His eyes swept around desperately for some sort of escape. From where he hung now Jessoin was across the expanse from Tesa, near enough to see her clearly. Alive still. So close, yet so heart-wrenchingly far. He tried his best to pull the Force to him, a withered attempt in his fatigue. Had he been fully rested, the distance wouldn’t have been difficult to cross; yet at that moment it was the impossible.

The scaffolding he held to groaned in protest at the horde’s encroachment, and dropped with a jolt to tumble into the abyss. The atrium boomed with the rattle of plummeting pipes and platforms, a bass to the shriek of dying rakghouls swallowed by the pit.

[Meira]

The dust hung in the air, bringing her back to consciousness with painful coughs that wracked her lungs in violent bursts. Her ears rang and her head throbbed with every beat of her heart. A hand went to the epicenter of this pulsing pain, coming back red and sticky with blood. But the cut was not too deep and she had more pressing matters. Mentally, she scanned her body in search of any other injuries. Bruised for certain, but otherwise she felt unharmed.

Pushing her now entirely disheveled hair out of her eyes, Meira tried to scan her surroundings. The darkness around her was absolute. Only a faint memory of light could be discerned from above, but even that was obscured by a haze so thick that she could scarcely see more than two feet in any direction. She pushed herself up, limbs burning in complaint as she stood. The surface that supported her groaned as she moved. Where had she fallen, she wondered. And then, with a sudden awareness that sent an electric shock down her spine, where was her lightsaber?

“Hello!” she called out, as she quickly began to search the rubbled mess of duracrete and jagged metal. A sharp clang somewhere behind her brought the young knight whirling around, but there was nothing to see. She shuffled forward until she reached the edge of the platform. Beyond and down… nothing but darkness. Her heart rate jumped and it took a fair amount of will to bring it back down. She needed to get back to the group, and fast, but panic would serve her no good here.

There was another shift in the debris, but no response to her call. She could feel the tiny hairs on the back of her neck begin to rise, her whole body responding to the uncertainty and the danger of the moment. Lowering herself slowly, Meira groped through the darkness and the mess for a suitable temporary weapon. What she found was not exactly reassuring; a length of metal bar, likely used to support the platform that she’d been walking on before, nearly as long as she was tall. But it was sharp at both ends and the weight of it in her hands was a partial comfort. She knew she had to move, but the fall had disoriented her. Which way had they come from?

When it sprang at her, she had only an instance’s glimpse as it materialized through the haze, claws and teeth bared. She raised the bar, horizontal between them, and braced for the impact. As it hit, claws clamping down on the bar and chest colliding against the middle, Meira braced against it as best she could, grinding her teeth with effort. She pushed back, calling on the Force to bolster her strength, and the rakghoul lost its footing. It stumbled back a step, with a snarl and snap of its jaws.

Willing her mind to calm, Meira watched the creature as it moved. Its muscles were tensed, ready to spring forward; its eyes were empty save for the insatiable, primal hunger. There was nothing beyond that hunger in its mind and Meira realized that there would be no tact in this creature’s attack. It would be brute force and straight on. She shifted her weight and brought one end of the bar forward, pointing toward the beast. The creature lunged and Meira thrust the bar forward, feeling the resistance of flesh.

This time, her arms cramped and fatigued, she did not have the strength to absorb the impact. Meira fell back, the rakghoul landing heavily on top of her. Its weight pinned her down, pressing the back of the bar into the rubble. That bar held the now impaled rakghoul corpse in place, trapping her. She could scarcely breathe, let alone move.

“HELP!” she gasped, praying to the Force that someone, anyone was near and would come. And then…. “AAAGGHHHH!”

The jaws of a second rakghoul sank into the flesh of her ankle, paused briefly at the resistance of bone, then won out with a sickly crunch. The pain was a fire, an acid injected straight into her cells and sent a wave through every nerve along her leg and spine. Wild-eyed, she looked down in time to see the second rakghoul, tearing away a mouthful of skin, bone and meat. Her foot. It’s mouth opened and closed, pulling in what it had taken from her. She could smell the iron sting of her own blood in the air, could see it dripping from the beast’s chin as it chewed. As it swallowed.

[Squee]

“Move!” she commanded to the trailing soldier. Tesa stopped then, as the soldier dashed on, pulling up to look down the corridor behind her. The rakghouls were far too close to for her to have time to do anything. With a frustrated growl, Tesa abandoned thoughts to tear at the duracrete walls.

Breath ragged and old air scratching at her throat, Tesa was faintly regretful for passing her mask to a soldier with asthma. The soldier she now pushed forward before thrusting her arms toward eager horde. The push spearheaded the horde, and she heard the satisfying crunch of bodies and brief yelps. Reaching her maximum point of sustainment, Tesa threw her arms sideways, initiating a rapid push, and rakghouls were crushed wetly into corridor walls.

Tesa could still sense more movement down the corridor, and saw the twitching of the bodies closest to her. She turned to catch up with the other survivors, skimming the edge of the large atrium.

Jess’s presence rekindled in her awareness and her head jerked to look across the atrium. He was tired. They were all tired. Anger echoed through their bond, which was expectant. Yet she also received a sense of finalization, and she returned that sense with stubborn resolve. This is not your end, Jessoin.

“Drop, Sith!” Aided with the Force’s alarm, Tesa recognized the soldiers were yelling at her. She dropped to her hands and the balls of her feet, and blaster fire erupted over her head. Cut off snarls and angry hisses spat faintly behind her, almost drowned by the hungry roar that had filled the atrium. Crawling swiftly toward the line of soldiers, she let one grab a handhold of her light armor and drag her behind him.

Standing, Tesa drew a steadying breath. “Keep on them.” The environment perfectly and chaotically writhed with the dark side. The chaos synchronized with her call, and she was the instrument of its harmony. Tesa sensed Jessoin hook into her, nearly as tactile as his hand would grab her shoulder. As she extended her side of the bond, vitality swarm into her, overpowering her attempt to latch back into him. What are you doing?!

SURVIVE.

With a cry of effort, Tesa brought her arm around in a hammer fist. A few feet ahead the soldiers, the floor buckled with an explosive crash that reverberated throughout the atrium. Duracrete, piping, metallic structure broke free in chunks as she punctured a gap several floors in depth by several meters wide. Rakghouls fell along with the destruction, crushed, stunned, or otherwise.

In a glance, Tesa caught Jessoin’s form scaling scaffolds. “You son of a bitch!” she screamed across the expanse. The Force roared anew in her, as claw-like hands grasped the air. With a vicious yanking motion, Tesa tore the out the walls perpendicular to the gap, chunks slinging through the air, as she ensured the rakghouls would not crawl their way toward them for the immediate foreseeable future.

She snapped about – and watched Jessoin fall.

Time crawled and Tesa had the distinct sensation of moving through molasses. With abandonment, the Force surged and she sent a compressive burst forth to shatter the railing. She watched metal and duracrete twirl and fall into the abyss. Then she was stretching over the abyss. She grabbed and pulled, and a falling tangle of metal cemented in duracrete sailed back upward in response.

She stared into the dark void, where all the pieces fell. Her mind had stopped processing. She wasn’t sure how she’d ended on her stomach, with her arm and hand extended over the edge. Time was speeding up again. There was a soft ringing in her ears. She was uncomfortably aware of the physical throbbing within her chest as her heart rattled against her ribs.

“JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESS!”

She gulped the dusty air.

“JEEEEEESS!”

The ringing in her ears intensified. She shoved herself up onto her palms and knees, scooting back from the edge. Her vision was impaired by stars. Every tight muscle quivered. Tesa ducked her head, trying to breathe with lungs made of ice. She tried to hear beyond the foggy ringing noise. She tried to hear within, her presence crying out for his to respond to her. But she couldn’t hear him, she couldn’t feel him.

A scream pierced the air. It poured from her, catalyzing the profound emptiness of loss. And when it stopped, the exhaustion rushed her body, and she rocked heavily onto her forearms. She sighed, only to choke on a sob. Gritting her teeth tight, her chest compressed in a rapid series of silent cries. The tightness relaxed momentarily. “Force damn you.” Another compression crushed her ribs and she coughed another sob. Her face was unusually warm, and so she buried it against her dirty fists, her breath coming in deep gasps. Forcing an inhale, her body shook with the effort to contain further noise.

With a great force of will, Tesa shoved upright on her knees. Her palms stung where nails had dug into flesh. Wiping the blood on her thighs, she swiped her knuckles under her eyes to remove the tears. Standing slowly, she shuddered with another suppressed sob.

Stealing her jaw, Tesa turned to assess the remaining survivors. In their faces, she read anywhere between disgust, pity, and sympathy. Her chest seized again, so harshly she shut her eyes tight.

Tesa knew she had two options: continue to feel sorrow, or feel contempt for every living creature. Swallowing the burn in her throat, Tesa reset her shoulders, mind made up. She surrendered her sorrow to the abyss. It would rise to haunt her later, she knew from experience. But that would be later. When she had time for it.

“Rest,” she told the soldiers that had covered her earlier. Tesa thought her voice sounded as if she’d swallowed gravel. She lifted her eyes to the rakghouls writhing on the opposite side of the gap. Hatred swelled quickly and fiercely, and Tesa wished her eyes were enough to obliterate them all from existence. “Everyone rest for a few,” she told the rest of the survivors. “Account for who is here.

“Vance,” she found the young man. “Jaidan’s status?”

[Ash]

Well, his suggestion to keep moving was blown right out of the water. Well, so be it. He would get some rest with the others, while it lasts. He huffed a little at the white haired Jedi before moving off from the main crowed, and leaned up against a desk, resting his long red spear on his shoulder.

He ignored most everything going on now, keeping a cool head and not interfering with anything. Maybe he was just too tired now to deal with anything. He could certainly use a nice vacation on a resort planet. Yea, that would be nice. He smiled slightly, before something was brought up about the cure to the plague. He shook his head slowly, but didn't say anything. He just went on isolating himself.

The fact was, he did have some of the serum, but no one else needed to be aware of that. It wasn't long before Jaidan found something that looked liked the serum. Good, now they could shut up about this. He leaned his head forward, closing his eyes but not asleep. He did jump out of it when Tesa yelled at them to get moving. She must have felt something he missed.

He was fully on his feet now, holding both his spears in one hand. No, this would be a pain in the future. He collapsed his red one, laying it on his back where it normally was: well out of the way. He did take up one of the lightsabers from a felled Jedi in his left hand now, just in case. His short yellow spear would be good enough if it came down to it.

He stayed at the back of the formation, pushing everyone to go faster, and would let them handle anything in front. Behind them, it was more or less clear.

Things got all jumbled up after that, and it felt like the building was literally being torn apart. He Couldn't begin to know just what was going on, and it disoriented him. Perhaps that was just more exhaustion.

Blasterfire. He was yanked back to reality when he heard that sound. The stench of ozone stung his nose, but he ignored it. He finally became aware of snarling and hissing of rakghouls not too far away, but the sound of screeching metal, and a female scream cut out that sound. Something had went terribly wrong somewhere. He spied everyone around him, and Tesa was looking pretty bad: like she lost a part of her. He could relate to how she felt, and wanted to do something for her, but held back everything.

[DreadPirateMike]

(My thanks to the Fromeister for collaborating with me on this!  And apologies to everyone else for moving related delays.  Now go read!)

Cold!

That was Jaidan's one coherent thought as his eyes flew open and found only darkness, and nothing else immediately followed it. He was truly unconscious for only a moment before immersion in the water revived him, but he awoke severely disoriented, and that was far worse. Awareness returned far too slowly to warn him of the disastrous consequences when his body reacted to the shock as biology dictated, with a sharp intake of breath, and it retreated far too quickly to help fight back the panic as he desperately tried to expel the liquid from his lungs.

He didn’t initially even register being lifted up off the flooded floor. He just dimly realized, after some period of time he couldn’t possibly quantify, that he was breathing in between his violent coughing fits. Breathing air! He gulped it down desperately as often as he could until, gradually, the coughing began to subside a bit, and he could begin the work of actually thinking, taking stock of his situation.

Taris. Right, still on karking Taris. And Meira was...was not here, he remembered after a frantic few moments of looking around for her. He needed to get to his feet, and…wait, he was on his feet. Sort of.

And that was about when Jaidan’s brain finally caught up fully, and he turned his attention to the right so as to discover his benefactor. Tall frame, unruly mop of curly hair. The boy. The one with Novus, who he’d rediscovered without the Sith Lord when he and Zalq met up with that desperate group of refugees. Vance had seemed altogether more natural that second way, for he made an ill fit with these Sith...as he’d likely heard pointed out already. Jaidan had not paid terribly close attention, but the young man seemed to attract people looking to give him their advice. He might well be glad that Jaidan wasn’t up to it yet. Instead, he simply tried to clear his head, so that he could detach himself from Vance and be sure he could move under his own power.

“The…” Nope, too soon. Another coughing fit followed before he was ready to try again, albeit in a strangled tone. “The soldier?”

But his question would be met with heavy pants as Vance’s body demanded every lick of attention to move them. It had protested initially, but when the blood-curdling screams of ghouls had sounded behind them once again, any and all lip service had become easily ignored. Vance knew that it was only a matter of time before those protestations manifested into failures, but that was all the more motivation to use his broken body that much quicker; to survive before it died.

At least then, he would have done something right today.

Some small part of him registered the stirring and the words, if only to make sure that his grip on the body slung over his shoulder was firm (well, as firm as it could get). Glancing back over his free shoulder, he could recognize words, but they were… muddled and hard to hear, half from his focus being far from listening, half from the actual sound of boots on hallway, ghouls in bloodlust, and the chase breaking out onto a scaffolding of some kind. Ordinarily he would have been curious at the sight of such a vast room in the middle of a fort, but he was far too far gone by that point to care.

He just wanted to leave. That was all he’d wanted all damn day.

Some small part of him did muster enough thought to respond though, sort of welcoming the chat as a distraction from impending doom as lightning bolts could be seen flashing below. “Dunno,” was panted out in a raspy, belabored voice with the smallest degree of effort and interest possible.

No more than that would immediately be asked of the lad. In fact, even that terse response was nearly wasted effort. Jaidan heard it, may have even responded in some way, but it would seem that his near drowning had only shocked him back into consciousness as opposed to truly reviving him; the next thing he knew, he was being settled down onto duraplast with all the care that a man struggling to stay standing himself could muster. He didn’t think that small jolt was what had truly penetrated the fog this time, though. That was the sense of horror and helpless outrage that washed over him in the Force...though it was plain to see on the faces of those around him that no Jedi awareness was necessary to be affected by the sheer agony carried by that scream.

He hadn’t actually witnessed what happened out on that catwalk, but it wasn’t hard to guess. Sith may, as a general rule, give themselves over to their passions in order to draw power from them, but this one had always, in Jaidan’s own experience at least, have prized control more highly than most. The Echani could think of only one thing that would leave her unconcerned by who saw that pain, that weakness. In truth, Jaidan was drawing ever closer to that point himself. Only truly dire straits could have possessed someone like Meira Valli to draw from him that desperately, and now...nothing. He couldn’t sense anything from their link anymore...he had to just hope that it was his own present weakness, preventing him from reaching out and finding her.

Well, and he had to go back for her. But not until everyone else was at those shuttles. Once the Republic personnel were aboard, it would be relatively safe to take off and circle for awhile, but until then...he didn’t like it, but his first duty was clear. As for Tesa, he supposed all he could do for her was not press at the walls she was trying to throw up.

“Jaidan will be fine.” he answered tiredly in Vance’s stead when she asked after his status. “He’s had his first sleep of the day.”

Oh, and what a lovely power nap it had been. He spent the next few moments in silence, so as to make it clear that the status report ended there.

“So.” he resumed quietly, turning his head to regard Vance after those few minutes were up. “It seems you’ve been popular today.”

He didn’t get words back so much as increasingly raspy pants for air. With his load gone, the apprentice’s knees had begun to shake, as if walking without the extra weight was harder. He could hear… people were talking, but between the increasing whine in his ears and the further slip of his ability to focus, his responses was more stuporous staring than an acknowledgement of communication.

The light sway indicating his deteriorating sense of balance was also probably a good giveaway that his body had been protesting for good reason.

Mistaking the distorted, speech-ish sounds he’d heard, Vance simply nodded a little. Looking toward the other end of the catwalk, he didn’t even acknowledge if people were alive or dead or in between.

All he could think about was shuttles. He needed to get to those, right? Shuttles. Hmmmmmm… shuttles.

Jaidan was too tired to consciously identify precisely what was wrong with the way Vance looked, that spoke to a problem other than mere exhaustion. Which side he was favoring, perhaps, or the fact that he didn’t simply sit down if he was having so much trouble standing steady. No matter. It had been second nature for him to note these sometimes minute physical cues, and for so long, that more often than not, it wasn’t even a consciously thought out observation anymore. He just knew something was off, and instinctively knew how to respond. In this case, that meant silently reaching out, making contact between his fingertips and Vance’s leg, and concentrating a moment.

Oh, dear. Did Novus’ apprentice truly not have the remedy on hand? But then, it had been nothing but chaos since sun up. Any number of opportunities for that particular lifeline to slip from his hands, he supposed.

If your current company can’t, or won’t help you, we can. Hopefully, Vance would hear the thoughts in his own head better than ordinary words through the haze of pain and exhaustion. If nothing else, he could keep this conversation private. The cure is in my blood. Novus saw to that.

“You should sit.” he added aloud. “Before you collapse.”

Even telepathic words were muddled, though. The sound was there, deeper of course, but… they registered as sound. Still, to his credit, he did his best to respond, to say something at least intelligible. If he could just… muster a thought… there was only one in dulling mind.

... shuttles...

As if the mere mention of it reminded him, he turned away from all of them, the lot of them, and began walking down the catwalk. Even despite the virus beginning to tear it apart from the inside, even with great difficulty, it still moved.

If it was going to die, it would die at its destination.

“Or, you could do that.” Jaidan added with a surly mutter, mostly to himself. By now, he’d pretty much realized he could ask the boy for Novus’ holo frequency, ask whether his mother had shagged a Wampa or anything in between, and get the exact same non-response for his troubles. He’d give the kid full marks for fortitude, but at this point, Jaidan would give it about even odds either way whether Vance would even notice the next pack of Rakghouls he wandered into. Which meant it was time to get off his butt, and see if he couldn’t return the favor that had been done for him.

He shut his eyes, then, and as he’d been taught, he began to push away...well, everything about this day, really. The pain, the exhaustion, the fear of what might have befallen Meira, the likelihood it was himself he’d need to worry about soon, and so on. He tuned all that out, and allowed himself to focus fully on the moment, memorize the blissful feeling of just sitting down and not trying to move. And then, when he was confident he had that firmly established as a refuge he could escape back to, he willed himself to his feet with an almighty groan. He took a moment more to reassemble his vibro staff and extend it to its full length, a support in case his legs tried to betray him once more, and he followed after the unlikely Sith.

Time for this day to end.

[Dutch]

MOAR CO-WRITE

- Kudos to Meira for another fun co-write

---

At least one broken finger twitched awkwardly as his hand gripped the duracrete ledge. His pinky bent in an entirely wrong way, a sharp gasp echoed in the gloom from him as Jessoin struggled to keep the hold. The bioluminescent red of his eyes shone alone in the encompassing darkness. They looked up, where a far distant light glimmered in the pit. They looked down, but saw nothing but darkness. Yet there was life below too. A panicked and confused flickering, like the beating heart of a small mammal.

Jessoin hung as he reached out to the survivor, as some foreboding mynock in darkness. His eyes flicked all around in search of somewhere, anywhere he could try to reach instead of where his hand had found. Jess had broken a finger in the search for purchase, worthy sacrifice to save his own life he thought. Pain shrieked from nail to shoulder, a searing wire of agony that whispered possible relief if he let go. Jessoin didn’t. Not yet.

”Help!” A scream from the abyss, and Jess’ ears perked at the immediate recognition of the voice. His eyes narrowed as a sudden rush from within the Force whirled around him, a phantom wind in the back of his skull that guided his eyes to a single spot in the gloom. ”AAAGGHHHH!” A quick inhale, and the Sith would twist his body sharply. Jessoin pulled on the very Force that compelled him. A burst of telekinetic energy fueled an ataru-styled flip, and another righted him. Jessoin then followed fate into darkness.

Below, tears blurred her vision as her body reacted, pushing and kicking in a pure adrenalin fueled attempt at escape, at survival. She could feel her mind detaching from the moment, not entirely cut off -the pain was still very present in her mind- but clouded. She tried to use this, to remember her training. If this was her fate, she had to find peace in the moment. But how?

Please, she pleaded silently. Not like this…

In silence the Sith plummeted, the only sound the flutter of his robes in the wind. He trusted the Force to tell him when the moment was right, to tell him when the bottom neared. The further he fell, the colder the air felt and the darker everything seemed to be around him. Like always he could smell them first, a coppery putrescence that gave away fresh death and mutation. Still he could not see anything, an eternity of rushing darkness leading to an enigmatic end. Poetic, he momentarily thought.

...now...

His eyes snapped wider as the ground suddenly materialized before him, the sight of Meira bloodied and pinned as rakghouls moved to devour her causing a start of shock. Snap-hiss! spat Jessoin’s lightsaber as it ignited, cyan blade casting everything in an ethereal sheen when it came to life. Meira’s eyes, blurred by tears were filled by the light as it descended toward her. The Sith spun, his weapon swung wide to behead the feasting ghoul. A kinetic burst cushioned his flipped landing, another pull of the Force sending the corpse atop Meira to flip into another rakghoul. A screaming stream of lightning would erupt from the Sith’s free hand as it fried the now pinned ghoul, unflinching it was sustained even as a final beast lurched from the gloom. In a classic makashi lunge Jessoin darted forward, his saber angled and pierced straight through the fiend’s skull. “Not like this.” He breathed in a husky whisper. The body fell, and Jess turned to regard Meira as she bled to death slowly. Her life was his to claim, and nothing elses.

Meira gasped as the weight was lifted from her body, her lungs drawing in the dusty air in hungry gulps. Her whole being flinched at the strobing light that suddenly appeared beside her and the smell of ozone and cooked flesh threatened to send her into nauseated heaving. The pain in her leg was a blunt pulse that seemed to be siphoning her life away with every beat of her heart. And then, it doubled as her other leg was pulled roughly to the side. She hissed, her torso lurching up as she blindly reached to block whatever had now grabbed her. But that hand suddenly snaked up her body to grip her throat, halting her efforts, as a voice -and somewhere in the depths of her mind, she knew it was his voice- growled “Be still, little flower.” She shut her eyes tight, unwilling, or unable to look. He was a poison in her ear.

The blade moved smoothly, cutting through the untouched flesh just below the knee. At first, she felt nothing at all, but then it ignited in a blinding flash of fire and ice through every one of her nerves. Jessoin’s hand dropped to her exposed collar, fingers curled around the base of her neck and shoulder to pin the writhing Jedi. She cried out, eyes wide as her voice cracked and crumbled into a high pitched squeak before cutting off entirely into the silent sob of one so overwhelmed by pain. The Force ignited from Meira, a twisted warmth that enveloped him. Jessoin let it feed into his presence, greedily harnessing it for himself. He gasped lightly at the sensation of pain and power as it stacked within him, eyes fluttering in dark excitement.

She flailed, hands finding purchase and clenching tight to his arm holding her down. The searing pain faded almost as quickly as it had flared, soon leaving her with the dull throb and lingering tingle of cauterization. Meira clenched her jaw, drawing her breath in through her teeth in ragged, uneven measures. Jessoin with a leering smile on his face, lifted his hand and brushed several stray hairs from her face. Her brow was damp with sweat, and her skin trembled cold beneath his fingertips, a strange contrast to his now flushed skin. Jess exhaled slowly as the dark-side washed over his body from within, Meira’s pain fueling the umber energies that rolled to the hand which gripped his lightsaber except for the broken pinky that hung awkwardly. A sharp staccato of bones re-breaking to proper position sounded, and Jessoin gripped a fistful of Meira’s hair at the jolt of pain that shot through his arm.

For a moment they paused, both panting from exertion and agony. Jessoin would lean in closer, pale skin cast in a ghastly pale blue as his gaze bored into hers. She tensed, raising an arm to push him back. His hand moved to cup her jawline, easily swatting away her feeble attempt to stop him.

“I saved your life…” Jess purred, head tilting slightly as his thumb moved to brush under her bottom lip. She balked, her head pulling back and to the side in an effort to escape the unwanted touch. Then, his grip would suddenly shift to the middle of her chest, hand spread wide to push her back down flat as the very tip of Jessoin’s lightsaber zipped high over the exposed inner thigh of her amputated leg.

"No!" She wheezed, trying to fight against the weight he pressed down onto her, but she had no strength left; she was barely holding on to consciousness as it was. A small ‘Z’ was etched perfectly into Meira’s flesh, the Sith grinning wickedly as his lightsaber switched off with a hiss. “And now you’ll remember me for it.”

His words echoed in her mind as the light from his saber died. She had nothing to hold onto now. The world was gone and her will had fled with it. Her limbs fell limp and she slipped into some quiet part of her mind, not unconscious, but apart. Hooked back to his belt, the lightsaber was replaced with an emergency glow-rod that was pulled from a pouch. He cracked it against the floor, the hazy orange light illuminating the area only a bit better than the lightsaber had. Jessoin took the glow-rod and tucked it slightly into the front of Meira’s robe before he shifted around her.

“I can feel the others aren’t overly far off.” Jessoin started, both hands now slid under her to gather Meira into his arms. He shifted to better hook his arms under her, the girl surprisingly heavy from weakness and shock. Hearing disembodied shuffles somewhere in the distant gloom, the Sith peered around before taking a couple steps away. “Let us go find them, shall we?”

[Mara]

(((My long overdue reply...)))


Soon enough, squabbling had broken out among the Jedi and Sith who had self-appointed themselves in charge of this escape mission. With so many strong personalities confined in a small space, all of them wanting to lead, it was inevitable, really. Arguments of what to do next, how to prepare for the next step when it was time. In the chaos of it all, Xierra was content to let them bicker over details while she focused on herself, keeping to the outskirts of the group, the wall to her back. She had no desire to get involved, nor did she have the energy to do so.

So instead, she just closed her dark eyes, closed herself off from all the commotion around her, and drew on the Force. Let her body relax until her surroundings just disappeared. Exhaled and inhaled slowly and deeply, bringing down her anxiety and fears and calling on calmness to settle her nerves, as she slowly ran through the Jedi Code. Using this time in which they had an unsteady and temporary peace from the rakghouls to regain her strength for what she knew was to come. The Force was her, and she was the Force. And for a few moments, she was no longer on Taris.

However, some time later--she wasn't sure if it was seconds, minutes, or even hours, so lost had she been in her meditation--shouts,  yells, screams broke into her reverie. The Falleen Jedi brought herself out of her trace, coming to the present in time to catch the word that were being bellowed by everyone else. Run. She needn't glance around herself to figure out why; she could feel the rakghouls' presence nearby. Could see the others already obeying the order as they scrambled through the flooded room and back towards the exit. With a deep breath, flexing her grip on her lightsaber hilt, Xierra stepped to follow them.

But then, she just stopped. She was no longer at one hundred per cent, hadn't been for some time. Even if she tried to go after the others, the whole strength in numbers aspect, she was certain she wouldn't be able to keep up for long. Her leg would betray her, as well as the rest of her tired body. Not that the escaping Sith and Jedi were not in a similar state, but Xierra just didn't have the drive to go on. Plus, she felt someone had to stay behind to cover their retreat. It might as well be her, out of all the rest of them. The Falleen Jedi was prepared to give her life to save everyone else, even the dark ones.

Xierra slowly turned around to face the direction she had felt the rakghouls coming from. Pulled the Force to her as much as she could, absorbing its comforting strength. Recounted all her lessons from her old master, all the strikes and parries and movements from their afternoon spars and duels. She knew she would need all her knowledge and training for what was ahead. To last just a few minutes with the foul beasts, to give the other survivors the chance they needed to get to the shuttle and leave Taris behind for good.

A snap-hiss! and her pale green blade came to life in her hand, as with a roar, a door burst open, and the horde of pale creatures came rushing at her. With a Falleen battle cry, she ran forward to meet them, all her energy and connection to the Force keeping her on her feet. A slash there, a jab here, limbs and heads flying to splash in the water around them. Without the exertion of having to run upstairs and just holding her ground, her confidence was with her. Perhaps she could actually survive this, she thought, as another rakghoul fell by her blade.

It was a short-lived thought, though. They just kept coming, a never-ending rush of pale bodies. And her body was slowly failing her. Xierra was now drawing on the Force so much, she could almost feel every individual cell that was a part of her, burning, glowing. Her weapon was no longer a whirlwind of green slicing through rakghouls but a strong breeze just barely holding them back. She was panting with the exertion. Her leg was moments from collapsing on her. The end was most certainly near.

She found herself backed almost into a corner, swinging her lightsaber in front of her to keep the rakghouls at bay. But it was a weak gesture, as several of the foul beasts dared to penetrate her defenses. Xierra knew what would be next. A bite, a scratch. And then she would be a rakghoul herself before the morning rose, a danger to anyone else still left on Taris. Pulling on the last of her reserves, she shot out a hand, and the Force pushed the rising horde back momentarily, to give her the chance to do what she knew she had to do.

Letting her legs go, she dropped down to her knees, the water lapping around her waist.The next moment seemed to happen in slow motion. Rakghouls racing back towards her, as a single tear slipped down her green cheek. Xierra closed her eyes, shut off her weapon, and slowly lifted the hilt to her head. Placing the emitter end against her forehead, she took a deep breath, as her thumb hovered over the button that would spring the blade to life, taking hers, before the rakghoul plague could overtake her. I'm so sorry, Master... I failed you...