Spin Control [Attahox]

[Blue]

"Agreed," Moho responded, to both Knight Gaeriel's and Master Nemsee's statements. The old Jedi sincerely doubted that any of them wanted to stay anymore than the voice wanted them to. Yet at the same time, Moho's curiosity was growing ever more. What was this voice? What was it doing on this derelict ship, and why did it want them to leave it to it's inevitable demise when it smashed into the planet below? Most importantly, what was it's link to the events surrounding Teth? The Jedi Master pondered on these thoughts as the four of them traversed the bizarre architecture that the gravity had caused in the vessel. The darkening mood around them, especially evident in Knight Gaeriel, had not gone unnoticed by Moho, and the Prellian stayed close to the youngest member of their band as they finally reached the turbolift. Master Nemsee went in first, the Prellian moving in behind him, and the human began to talk... before being cut off by the disembodied voice, and a wave hit Moho. Flashes passed through is mind's eye: an insect-like creature flying by in the shadows, screeching metal in a enclosed space, danger swiftly coming down upon Master Nemsee. Moho was already in motion a heartbeat before the turbolift was sent flying at his fellow Jedi. His large frame barged through the slightly-too-small entryway, the edges of it bulging outward as his exo-rig made short work of the obstacle. Almost completely filling the shaft with his bulk, one long arm swung around in front of Master Nemsee in a protective gesture and his legs bent as if to anchor the old Jedi as he faced down the incoming rush of metal. The screeching grew louder as another power vied against the motion of the turbolift. Moho's eyes narrowed and the sound suddenly stopped, the lift ceasing it's movement towards them about an arms length from the old Jedi. "You are not dealing with children, to be frightened away with a few loud noises in the dark," Moho said out loud, his calm, level voice carrying down the shaft. "We are Jedi. And our patience for your unnecessarily violent, infantile outbursts..." An arm raised, and the turbolift shot back the way it came as if it weighed nothing, shuddering to a halt just passed the opening that lead towards their goal. "... Is growing thin," the old Master finished, his voice never rising beyond a conversational tone. Moho turned himself around, a small, serene smile on his face as he looked at his companions. "Come. Let us educate our host on the resolve of Jedi," he said. Calm seemed to start radiating from the Prellian Jedi in waves, to wash over his fellows as Moho began to move onward towards the bridge.

[Harukei]

He heard the voices in his mind like the rest of the Jedi had and as they made their way through the mangled wreck that the ship hallways had become, he meditated about the words and what they meant. A warning? No. He considered briefly. An ultimatum. The Shitavaneen concluded as his hand slid to the lightsaber that hung from his hip. His fingers unconsciously wrapping themselves along the worn leather that was wrapped around the hilt. With every step they took his amber eyes glanced at every inch of the crumpled, damaged walls of the hallways as if they held the secrets of what had happened within the hull of the ship. But there was nothing, only bent and out of shape metal, no plasma scoring, no ripped metal from an explosion. Not even bodies. 

As the group reached the end of a hallway with an elevator. As Master Nemsee and the others inspected the state of the elevator, Fal knelt close to an accumulation of what seemed to be dust. Scooping some with his massive gauntlet hand he began to rub his thumb against his middle and index finger, grinding the strange substance. He frowned. The dust was strange, and through the safety of his enclosed suit of armor it almost felt like a strange mixture between ash and sand as the tips of his gloves were now covered with the strange smudge. Whatever the dust could be he could not pay heed as the voice came again, this time stronger and closer he realized. A screeching sound of torture metal was heard as the elevator flew towards the group in a shower of sparks before the object was stopped my Master Moho. 

The Massive Jedi stood next to to the Prellian, his predatory eyes studying the would be enemy they had found hidden within the ship and he labored to guess what he had meant now. Sacred? This barely space worthy piece of scrap? He considered briefly as he began to extend his hands and gather the energies of the Force within himself before his mind considered something else. Is it the dust that makes this place sacred? He wondered silently as the elevator flew towards the creature. Fal pressed both hands together as if he had felt a singularity within them. His limbs shook the the compressed energy in the grasp of his digits before he pushed both hands together forward.

In the muffled absence of sound energy raged invisible save for the subtle ripple of the Force as sheets and panels were ripped with ferocity. Waterfalls of sparks from disconnected cabling flew along them, disappearing in a microsecond before the expansive force violently shook that portion of the hallway carrying with it amounts of the dust that lingered all in a single struck that had no finesse but the power behind it to only hope that whatever had come to fight four Jedi without a hint of fear was gone once the dust settled. 

[Ghostie]

The remainder of the slow, cautious walk that the Jedi Group took towards the turbolifts was silent, at least on Gaeriel’s part. The Jedi Knight normally did not shake easily, but disembodied voices onboard a derelict ship that was about to burn up in reentry was hardly normal. To say that Gaeriel was fearful would have been an overstep, but unsettled would be a better adjective. After the way that twisted presence had made her feel, she wanted to get off of the Bright Horizon as soon as possible, and let the Voice burn to a crisp and take the trip to whatever of the nine hells it believed in. Her jovial mood was gone, and her blonde brow was furrowed in an impatient determination, all that was visible under her helmet to the other Jedi. Master Moho’s close presence was a comfort, as the Knight could tell that he was trying to stay close to her. As such she tried to get her frustrated, runaway thoughts of their busted shuttle and the conspiratorial Voice and her concern for Kar’eth under control as they walked on. Tried, to little avail.

The last thing she wanted was Moho coming to the conclusion that she was an unfit Knight and Shadow.

Gaeriel had come right up to Locke’s side as the Jedi Master inspected the turbolift shaft they were supposed to take, now nothing more than another dark hallway with its doors looking to be dangerous obstacles to glide around as they shuddered together to close and open at random intervals. The Knight had seen similar such shafts before, on other ships and in buildings and the like. The only difference with this one, however, was a thick layer of dust, nearly as thick as Gaeriel’s hand, laying strewn across the durasteel. That, the Knight noticed, was quite out of place. Even if the ship had no cleaning droids, there was absolutely no reason for there to be this much dust in the shaft. Then her mind clicked the pieces into place, and Gaeriel attributed the dust layer to the disembodied Voice, and started to eye it with a new suspicion.

Turning to look at Locke as he started on a plan, Gaeriel kept her headlamps low, so that they didn’t shine right into the Master’s face. He was standing out in the turbolift shaft now, and Gaeriel was still inside the hallway, perched at the door. But before the man could finish his thoughts, the Voice was back. It cut through both mind and body, forcing all to give it their undivided attention as it boomed for the Jedi to turn back, and that they were treading on sacred ground. The soonest it was finished, there was the sudden screeching of wheels on metal rails, and Moho was flying by Gaeriel with an unnatural speed that caught the Knight off guard, knocking her aside innocently. Just as the Force was warning her of the danger heading for Locke, Moho reversed the turbolift, and sent it kareening a few levels away from the Jedi. The whole ordeal lasted little more than a blink of an eye. Stepping out into the shaft after Moho and Locke, Gaeriel shined her headlamps towards the lift for a moment, and and nodded at the Prellian as he mentioned the Jedi’s patience was wearing thin.

“Doubly here, Master.” She answered curtly. Walking across the shaft from where the Jedi had emerged, she found a circuit box. Opening it, she bypassed her tools this time in favor of simply ripping out the wires she identified as the power and brakes for the turbolift which had once thought to threaten Locke. Tossing the bits of metal wiring she pulled out aside, there was a loud slam of brakes coming down hard on the rails, and the sudden feeling of security as she knew in her mind that the turbolift wouldn’t move again.

Hopefully.

“That should keep it in place.” The Knight’s voice, still short, was a bit wary. “But again, I wouldn’t linger.”

[Rugs]

Everything happened quickly. The Force surged into Locke, as soon as he felt the energy gathering from the turbolift shaft where the mysterious creature disappeared into the darkness. Yet next he knew, Moho was beside him. The lift came screeching to a halt, sparks flying and tortured metal screeching in protest.

“Thanks for the assist,” Locke said lowly as Moho addressed the voice that screamed at them to leave. The lift erupted back, at the same time that Fal loosed a terrible burst of power that sent the strange dust airborne and flying and tore the panels from the walls.

Locke’s mind raced as lift roared to a stop. Bits of the dust, lingered in the air as Gaeriel worked at the panel to lock the turbolift in place.

“Sacred ground?” he wondered aloud. “I mean, I’m sure this was a nice turbo lift at one point, but uh...” he looked around, “I wouldn’t build a church here.”

The group started to move again. Locke still held fast to the Force, reaching out with his senses. He couldn’t quite get a feel for the creature--it was hard to feel it specifically with the strange, alien presence choking the ship.

He reached out through the Force, peeling through the layers of fog as they stepped out of the shaft into a room. Suddenly, he made contact.

A distant presence overwhelmed him. A rush of images flooded his mind, like a storm surge racing ashore. Distant worlds under siege, crystals falling like cascading rain. Countless faces he didn’t recognize. And then...

”Ahh...”

A voice.

”We have seen your kind before.”

Lidah, standing in some faraway home, flashed through his mind. That slicer kid from Nar Shaddaa, bent over in a dust-filled room, retching on the floor.

He saw another, a tall man in a void suit, some sort of container clutched in his hand as he struggled against something.

”Jedi. Sith. You call your songs different and yet...” The voice paused. The presence seemed thoughtful. Considering. ”You know nothing of music. Discord. Noise. Even now, as intrude on that which you know nothing of.”

“But we will allow your intrusion,” the voice added. “For now.”

The voice and presence receded as suddenly as they arrived. Locke, panting, was suddenly aware that he’d fallen to one knee. He felt sweat slicking his brow.

“Did...” he said, slowly pushing himself to his feet. “Did any of you hear that?”

[Blue]

Now that the immediate obvious danger had passed, Moho put his mind back on the track it had been on, pondering the questions that surrounded the Bright Horizon. He acknowledged Master Nemsee's thanks with a solemn nod as they went and uttered a quiet apology to Knight Gaerial for knocking her aside in his rush, and then his thoughts flickered through what they knew beyond all doubt. They knew that this ship had been nearby Teth before contact had been lost with the planet. They knew the vessel had been badly damaged, presumably by the hasty hyperspace jump it took to escape whatever catastrophe befell the planet. They knew they had been contacted by a supposedly lone survivor, begging for aid. Upon entering the ship, new things were revealed: the lone survivor had not made contact again, there was no signs of any sort of struggle inside the ship, nor any bodies one might expect after responding to a call for help from a derelict ship. Furthermore, there appeared to be a unknown entity aboard the vessel with them, one that was able to speak through and utilise the Force. It appeared unhappy with their presence, bidding them to leave and becoming violent when they had not complied, claiming the doomed ship as 'sacred', of all things. And then there was the strange dust that lay about the place. "Quite so, Master Nemsee. Perhaps this being considers this site sacred for other reasons beyond our current understanding. Faith, after all, comes in so many different forms," Moho replied to the human's comment, the Prellian's tone mildly perplexed. The longer I think on it, the less I believe that this was a trap. The entity that has taken residence on this ship seemed genuinely distressed by our presence here. It is unlikely that the person who sent out the signal and the being we encountered in the turbolift shaft are one and the same, or working in tandem with one another. But where does that leave us? A moment's thought passed as Moho ducked under a loose bit of wiring from a light. If this is indeed linked to the event at Teth, perhaps one of the offending party of whatever happened there got aboard and killed the survivors of the jump, with a singular person managing to send out the distress call before being slain? But that does not explain this entity's motives. What makes this vessel 'sacred ground'? Why refuse the potential offer to save them so violently? The ship is clearly beyond repair; staying aboard is suicide. Anything sacred will be destroyed in the impact with the planet, yet they make no attempt to move it to safety. What are we missing here? It was then that the old Master's pondering was interrupted by the voice once again. This time however, it seemed different; calmer, softer, and with that element Moho sensed a hint of something deeper. He was distracted as Master Nemsee dropped to one knee, the voice seemingly touching him far more powerfully, but the words that the disembodied presence used echoed in his mind as the Prellian took a moment to gently help steady the human Jedi as he pushed himself back onto his feet. They refer to music. Their term for the Force? Do not seem to fall towards either Light nor Dark; not exactly a new concept, despite it's opinion. Finds our presence to be 'discordant'. How so? The way that the voice spoke... there was some hint of something else there. I got the sensation that it was not a singular person. The power behind them appears far too great... multiple entities, perhaps, working together? And why does that strange dust keep haunting me...? Master Nemsee spoke, and Moho nodded once again. "Curious, indeed. Very little of this situation makes much sense on the surface, but I feel things are finally becoming somewhat clearer," the old Master said, making sure that Master Nemsee was alright before letting him go. "I believe that the key to this conundrum is to think upon what is here that does not belong. What makes this vessel 'sacred ground' that is utterly alien to it's surroundings? So far, I have thought of only one thing, though the possible meaning yet eludes me." With a clang, Moho raised a leg and tapped it onto the ground, raising a small cloud of dust from the floor. "There is something sinister at work here that we are merely scraping the surface of. But I would hazard to say that I do not think it would no longer be wise to allow this ship to crash onto the planet below, as our kind host seems determined, for some reason, to ensure that it does. For now, however, let us focus on getting to that data." As he spoke, Moho reached deep within and the calm that was radiating off him began to increase immensely, like a fire given new fuel to burn hotter. His colleagues may be understandably shaken, but the old Jedi would ensure that they would hold strong together. He would do his part to make certain that they all make it through this intact.

[Rugs]

Locke took Moho’s offered helped with a muttered ‘Thanks.’ A fog lingered in his mind and he still felt wobbly, even with the void suit’s servo-enhanced stability. The presence had receded entirely, and yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d touched something far... larger than anything they’d come prepared for.

The pale dust, floating from Moho’s focused tap seemed suddenly more disturbing. Lidah’s reports — what little of them he could read before rushing off to the mission at hand — mentioned a fine powder in the DeVoss estate.

So too did they mention that the man fell to a simple kick to the head, his body apparently rotting from within.

Locke grunted and shook his head. “I suspect you’re right, Moho.” He stood, sighing heavily as he steadied his resolve with Moho’s help. “I just hope it’s not too late to stop all this.”

---

The rest of the journey was a short one, only slightly complicated by the ship’s gravity gracing the Jedi quartet with an unannounced return to its default positioning. Locke could only wonder at how much longer the thing would hold together as he heard a deep tremor shook the ship’s superstructure with a long, low groan of failing metal.

Dust filled the air like flakes in a disturbed snowglobe as the team pushed onward. Locke’s headlamps cut through the haze, which was finally beginning to settle as they reached the bridge. The door was was closed, with a pale tendril of something pierced through the metal wall beside it and laced through both panels to effectively bind it shut.

Purple light, pulsating softly, filtered through the edges of the holes the tendril left in the metal.

Seeing little else to do and well aware of their ever-shortening time, Locke activated his yellow-orange lightsaber. It flicked out at the tendril, cutting it cleanly and allowing the door to peel open, with some effort.

“What the hell?”

The bridge was spacious, with a wide, curving observation deck that stood above the arrayed control. A half-dome transparisteel canopy — with jagged cracks splintering worriedly across its surface — arced over the whole affair. It offered a commanding view of Attahox’s red surface as the Horizon streaked inexorably onward out of orbit.

In space, with the ship arrayed properly over some unexplored world, the views from the birdge might have been breathtaking.

The sight within was so ghastly Locke didn’t give the surroundings a second glance.

A dense mold covered the ground. More of the tendrils sprawled across the floor, all branching out from a central growth in the center of the bridge.

A violet crystal, about the size of his torso, lay nestled amongst the pale grey growth. A pinkish light swirled within it as the crystal pulsated irregularly.

YOU TREAD ON SACRED GROUND, the alien had warned angrily.

“Is this their ‘sacred ground?’” Locke wondered aloud. He stepped forward and stopped immediately when his foot nearly slipped. Looking down, he saw the mold sat atop a layer of some dark sludge, deep enough to rise nearly to the top of his boot’s toe. It glistened wetly in the dim light. “What is that?”

“That?” A voice rang out weakly. “That’s the rest of the crew, friend.” Locke looked around but could see no one. A quick probing of the Force revealed a presence, near death, at the front of the bridge. The crystal, emitting its strange, alien presence nearly covered it completely. “If you’re Republic, I’m the one who sent for you.”

Locke, gritting his teeth, stepped awkwardly across the floor, mold squelching underfoot. A Twi’lek, emaciated and sickly, lay against one of the control panels. His blue skin was pale and splotchy, especially over his gaunt face.

“You shouldn’t stay here long, you know,” the Twi’lek tried to push himself upright before Locke could warn otherwise. “They’ll get you too. The Chorus. Join your voice to theirs...”

[Blue]

With Master Nemsee back on his feet, the group proceeded without much more difficulty, save for the gravity reverting back to its original setting. Adjusting to the shift well enough, and after ensuring his fellow Jedi were not too caught off-guard, Moho followed behind the human Jedi as they reached their destination. The old Jedi did not get much chance to observe the strange appendage that was holding the door to the bridge firmly shut before Master Nemsee deftly sliced through it with his lightsaber. The scene the door opened to, however, Moho had a long and unobstructed view of. Though the dangerously cracked view-port and the coating of that strange dust registered in the Prellian's mind, his attention was drawn almost entirely to the bizarre crystal, laying among the tendrils and dust like a large violet-coloured egg. What is here that does not belong... I think that this certainly counts. Though loath to reach out through the Force to inspect it, it made its presence very clear to all of his senses, so much so that he barely caught the faint flicker of life within before it spoke, answering Master Nemsee's question as to the mystery of the substance coating the floor. "Knight Gaeriel, if you could find a console and begin retrieving any data you can salvage, that should help us be on our way. I'll see to this gentleman. And mind the floor; it is somewhat unstable for footing," the old Jedi suggested to the youngest of the group. Feeling no immediate danger in the room beyond the obvious, Moho moved forwards towards the Twi'lek, his six legs moving across the somewhat slippery floor with the confidence of his aquatic heritage. The large Jedi came to stop near the Twi'lek, towering above him but somehow appearing nonthreatening as he gave the hurt man a small smile. "What is your name?" Moho asked gently. The Twi'lek appeared taken aback, perhaps about to attempt a sarcastic remark. But the energy drained from him by his aliment neutered his wit, and he responded with a sigh. "It's Nel." Moho nodded and raised one of his pincers slowly. "I'm going to check on your condition if that's alright, Nel?" Moho asked. The Twi'lek sighed again and gave a micro-shrug of permission. The old Jedi proceeded to reach out to the fellow, tentatively at first but when nothing bore down on his mind like it seemed to have with Master Nemsee he continued on. As he probed the poor man's condition, part of his mind untangled everything that they had suddenly learned. Sacred ground. Dust from the crystal? Crystal source of anger from unknown being, voice from before. “They’ll get you too. The Chorus. Join your voice to theirs.” Confirms original thought, more than one. But chorus... the word implies not just a small group working together. Large mass of beings, then? "They’ll get you too, join your voice to theirs.” Forcing others into this 'Chorus'? Attacks on planets... recruitment? Nel's ailment did nothing to disabuse Moho of this potential line of thought. Despite his efforts and all his knowledge of healing, there was little that he could do for the Twi'lek. It was as if all of his internal organs were liquefying or breaking down; a theory backed up by Nel's statement about the origins of the substance on the floor. The old Jedi was not even certain that moving him to a more comfortable position was wise, as it could almost certainly cause the poor man to fall to pieces. But there was something else. Something deeper, beyond the physical affliction the man suffered. Moho could not place it fully, but an educated guess connected this sensation to the wrongness in the Force he had felt, that all the Jedi had felt, since the moment that they came aboard. Perhaps this is the method used to make others 'join the Chorus'? Had they more time the old Jedi might have tried to explore it further, but the planet was so quickly coming upon them. He lowered the pincer and sighed. "I am truly sorry. There is little I can do," Moho said, his words weighed heavy with sadness and his eyes pained. Nel, despite being clearly resigned to his demise long before now, seemed to sag even further. "However, should you wish it, I could... alleviate your pain, and ease your passing. It would make it so that it would be no more different than falling into a deep slumber. Would you like me to do this for you?" Nel lifted his head with difficulty, looking into the sad eyes of the Prellian, before wordlessly nodding. Moho bowed his head, then turned to his fellow Jedi. "Should you wish to ask him any questions, now is the time. Please keep it as short as possible; he has endured enough, I think," the Jedi Master uttered to his compatriots. His amber eyes then fell once more upon the violet crystal, which was either responsible for or the end result of the death of the ship's crew. This was just one vessel. How many others have perished to feed these things? Not just cities, but entire planets, it would seem, have gone towards this Chorus' hunger. No discourse, no communication... no choice. It simply takes. Why? Is there even a wider point to it, beyond the act of forcing others to submit to... this? "This object is the catalyst for much suffering and pain," Moho said quietly. "We must move with haste; it cannot be allowed to make contact with the planet."

[Ghostie]

The rest of the short walk towards the command deck was rather uneventful compared to the Jedi’s earlier adventures throughout the Bright Horizon, save for the artificial gravity shifting back to its proper place once again. This time, however, the group was ready for it, and the number of falling shuttles and bouncing Prellians was left at nil. Gaeriel, for her part, was silent for the entirety of the quick jaunt. The Voice had not visited them once again, and between that and Moho’s use of the Force, she felt herself relaxing once again. Nonetheless, he eyes darted everywhere under her faceplate, looking for the slightest movements, the twitches in the shadow, and flickering back at forth as the ship groaned under her feet.

The sooner they completed their task and left, the better. This Voice was twisted, that’s all there was to it.

At the back of the group when the approached the bridge, Gaeriel only saw a flash of Locke’s yellow-orange blade cut the door open from the other side of Masters Moho and Tolvus. Instead, she opted to keep an eye on their flank, and back down the dark hallway they had just come from as the Masters entered the room first. Locke’s exclamation didn’t leave much to the imagination, however. Once the other Jedi were through, she turned and walked slowly to the doorway herself, and looked inside. Her eyes were immediately draw to the large, pulsating crystals in the middle of a grey growth of mold and what almost looked like fungus. The floor was covered in much of the same, with dark sludge and tendrils spread across the room. Barely registering the large, cracked viewport, Gaeriel found herself happy that the voidsuits blocked out smells as well as all other hazards.

“If it is, they could learn a thing or two about interior decorating.” Gaeriel answered back to Locke’s rather rhetorical sounding question about this being the Voice’s ‘sacred ground’. Slowly, she stretched out one foot to the grey mass that covered the floor of the bridge, testing the ground. The Jedi Masters were already inside, but to say that Gaeriel wasn’t keen on following would not be a lie. The floor was solid enough to stand on, and unlike the others she didn’t sink as far, due to her small size and light weight. And as Gaeriel entered, her eyes stayed transfixed on the crystal, flickering briefly to the Twi’lek as she spoke up, and Moho quickly intercepted the man. Nodding as the Prellian asked her to start retrieving data, Gaeriel took off at a cautious pace across the floor.

One control panel, not far from the front of the bridge and sitting just under the cracked viewport. That was her best shot, considering how it was not as covered in the grey growth as everything else. As the Jedi Knight walked, however, it was as if the grey mass could sense her movements, her intentions, and tendrils started to spread across the interface. Undeterred, Gaeriel reached for her lightsaber, and with a quick flash of the purple blade, the console was free once again. Kneeling in front of the workstation, she peeled off a piece of paneling, and set to work connecting her datapad to the computer.

And a single, grey tendril wrapped itself around her wrist.

“Oh hell no!” Stunned for a moment, Gaeriel grimaced under her helmet as the thing clung to her, squeezing hard enough that she could start to feel it through her voidsuit. Reaching over with her free wrist she twisted and pulled, and the thin piece of growth gave way with a snap, only for another to start to dangle in front of her helmet. Looking up, Gaeriel let go of her datapad and reached for her lightsaber again as another group of tendrils came for her and her datapad. The signature snap-hiss of the weapon lost to the void, the purple blade flashed again and again as Gaeriel cut away at the every creeping growth above her, until she was satisfied that she was free for the moment. Deactivating the blade once again, she kept it in one hand, and picked the datapad back up with the other.

“Sure is a clingy thing.” She nearly hissed into her comm unit, and Moho started to speak about the crystal. Listening, Gaeriel turned her gaze towards the Prellian. “Think it’ll burn up on re-entry? Messing with it here might not be the best idea…”

[Rugs]

“I don’t think you’re wrong there.” Locke eyed the pulsating crystal, nestled in its fungal growth. Crystals and fungal dust. And people sludge, he added silently with a regretful look at the dark, wet tracks they’d left in the purple-grey mold. It was all a lot to take an, and Locke wished he had time to mull it over.

But Attahox’s rust-red surface filled the domed viewport entirely now, and Locke couldn’t shake the feeling that he could see the ground drifting slowly by if he focused on the view long enough. No time for that. They still had to find a way off the damn ship.

“I’ve got a question.” He squatted down, forearms resting on his legs as he took great care not to get any more of himself in the disgusting slurry covering the floor. Nef’s eyes were closed, but he turned his head toward Locke. “What happened here? Where did this ship come from?”

Nef smiled silently, ruefully. A chuckle turned into a coughing fit that splattered blood over his shirt and pale blue hands. “We were at Teth,” he said. “We went with the Hutt fleet, from Y’toub. They thought they could crush those... things. Silence the Chorus.”

Nef frowned, expression turning dark as some unseen horrors played out in his memory. He reached a trembling hand toward Locke, who offered one of his own as he let the Force wash over them both to try to calm the man.

“We thought we could learn what they are. Where they had come from. We were fools. All of us. Do you know what happened to the Hutt fleet, Jedi? Hundreds of cruisers, dozens of battleships — the pride of the combined cartels?”

Nef’s shaking hand left Locke’s grasp. He pointed, haltingly at the fungal growth covering the floor. His voice trembled as he spoke. “The same thing that happened to the crew of this ship They didn’t destroy the fleet, no. They could have. They absorbed it.”

“We ran, but it was too late. They boarded us. The hyperspace trip gave them all the time they needed.” Nef sighed wearily, shoulders slumping against the control panel behind him. “Please, Jedi, forget about this ship. Forget about this world, if you must. Your survival is paramount, all of you. This threat is too great-”

A disturbance in the Force drew Locke’s attention away from the dying Twi’lek. Gaeriel, on the other side of the bridge, was deactivating her lightsaber. Some pieces of a tendril, burt and smoking, drifted to the ground.

“I hope it does,” Locke said to Gaeriel. I don’t think we’ve got time to fuck around with it.”

Pinpricks in the Force were a sudden warning before the metal wall above them tore open in a storm of bolts and shredded steel.

A horrible scream sounded through the Force, shaking Locke to the bone as a hail of violet crystals ripped through the space behind them.

Locke threw up a hand, the Force surging within him. A curved, translucent blue shield sprang to life, rippling where each crystal slammed into it and shattered into tiny puffs of dust that lingered in the air.

One of the many-legged things from earlier dropped onto the bridge. The metal floor rattled under its weight as it stood to its full, imposing height.

“Decided to actually come say hi, did yo-”

Locke’s words were cut abruptly short when another one of the monsters lunged through the hole in the wall at him. He ducked, pulling on the Force and pushing up as the creature passed over him. It crashed into the cracked viewport, where found purchase with its many appendages and turned around to face them. Wisps of yellow and orange were starting to flicker at the edges viewport’s edges. Some distant part of the ship groaned loudly.

“Alright, jackass,” Locke muttered, igniting his yellow-orange blade. “If that’s how it’s gonna be.”

[Blue]

Moho listened in silence as Nef spoke and Knight Gaeriel began her work, the dying Twi'lek confirming what the old Jedi had been thinking not moments before. Absorbing them. Physical matter? No, beyond. Mind and body, if the sensation behind that voice was any indication. Existence after death, joined to this 'Chorus', bound through the Force or by other means? Or by both? Either way, must be stopped. Each being absorbed enhances their power, it seems, and they are conquering all too easily. Trampling others, taking without thought to giving. No balance. Need? Hunger? Zealotry? The Prellian looked up sharply as Knight Gaeriel activated her lightsaber, slicing through some more of those odd tendrils attempting to bind her. Seeing she was safe, Moho returned his attention to the Twi'lek. "Where are the escape pods located, Nef?" Moho asked. The dying man gestured with his head, back the way they came, his voice growing swiftly weaker. "Just down the corridor... To the left as you leave... Sixty seconds at a... at a jog..." Suddenly, the Force struck the old Master with great pressure as a swift flicker of images and feelings washed over him. Tearing. Storm of metal. Cracking. Powerful, bright heat. Lunging. Ambush! "They are he-" Moho began, his warning drowned out by the psychic screech and the tearing of metal as the creature they saw previously made it's entry onto the bridge through the ceiling. Almost in tandem with Master Nemsee, the Prellian created a bubble around himself and Nef, trusting in his compatriots to defend themselves from the sudden onslaught of improvised fragmentary projectiles. The trauma of the scream was the last straw for Nef, and Moho felt what little life the Twi'lek held onto slip away. A second being appeared and leaped, but was promptly deflected by Master Nemsee right passed the old Jedi. More motion caught his eye, seeing the first of the pair mid-jump towards Knight Gaeriel. "Enough." The word spoken sounded like it came from Moho, but the tone contained a dreadful weight to it that would seem alien coming from the kindly old Master. The creature was yanked back from the momentum of it's jump and held still, hovering in the air for a heartbeat. There was a sickening, organic creak, and then it's many long limbs tore free from it's body while it's misshapen head caved in on itself. Moho released the remains and they fell to the floor with a wet thump. There was an alarming cracking noise as the second one that Master Nemsee propelled itself off of the view-port and dove at the human Jedi, and Moho swung one of his longer arms into it as it went by. There was no finesse or skill involved in the punch he threw, just the terrible strength of his powerful frame and the exo-rig's metal. The creature was only clipped, but the impact still hit it hard and with a crunch it was sent spinning away across the bridge, scrambling to get back on it's feet. Moho reached deep once more and sent a wave over his fellow Jedi, buoying up their spirits and strength and joining them together as they turned to face this threat. Almost as an afterthought, the Prellian activated his commlink and spoke in a detached tone. "Commander LeKit. I need you to move the Vigor into a firing position against the Bright Horizon. Things here are far more dire than our gravest estimations, and we cannot allow it to reach the planet's surface. We will try to reach the escape pods and send what data we have gathered to you, but I must request that you turn your guns on this ship in five minutes time. Please do not wait for us." There was a stunned silence on the other end of the comm for a moment before the voice of the Commander replied. "Received and understood, Master Jedi. Moving into position." "May the Force be with you, Commander," Moho finished, cutting the link and turning his focus fully onto the matter at hand once more. "Escape pods are to the left as we leave the bridge. I suggest we do not dally," he continued to his companions, readying himself for any further dangers the Bright Horizon had for them.

[Harukei]

Fal maintained silence as the horrifying truth of what had transpired with the crew of the Bright Horizon. The sound of the voices that had come heralding them would return again as he pieced all the evidence together and wondered how many of them were still alive as they were consumed into the fungi creature. The part of him that hearkened to the ancient warrior customs of his species awoke, looking with disgust the death that had come. The Jedi inside of him felt only grief for such a loss against an enemy that he could not truly could comprehend. It spoke in such vague terms that made him think of a holy crusade, a philosophical debate and then an unseen hunger of a higher entity. And he then remembered. He remember what the voice had said before. We have seen your kind before. The Shitavanen pondered on the words one by one. We. As in more than one. He paused as he saw Master Moho hauling the sole survivor and one of the strange bug-like creatures emerge. A hive mind then?

He concluded as the other Jedi began to fight the creatures, his amber eyes locking on the shape of another one charging at him. His right hand reached for his lightsaber and he closed his eyes as took a brief instance for a solace before the duel. His eyes opened as his emerald blade sprung to life in a snap-hiss and the Jedi charged. His footsteps made the dust that covered the floor jump as his increased his momentum. A roar of war emerged as both Jedi and insectoid were but a few feet away from each other. The creature moved first, his appendages carrying him to a side as the sharp pinions that were its legs scrapped the floor and the flakes of dust. Turning on its own axis it would swing scythe like arms at the Shitavanen. 

The Jedi Stopped, his boots sliding slightly as he brought his gauntlet to bear, intercepting both biological scythes, hearing how the sharp talons scrapped the durasteel alloy of his armor. Gritting his teeth, the Jedi Master pushed the the creature away, the long pinions scratching the flooring as the lightsaber as it stopped the counter. Fal plunged forward the lightsaber drawing arcs of emerald that missed the creature as it backed out. The scythes came again from the right, slashing at the very air and aiming for his head. The lupine Jedi Master ducked, his lightsaber swinging to meet the falling scythes. A piercing shriek was heard as the creature backed away swaying painfully. Where there used to be two appendages ended in blackened and cauterized nobs. The scythes fell down, twitching in their death throes before the creature would look at the Jedi Master once more. 

Fal sensed the anger in the creature. A primitive fury that for a brief second superseded the presence that controlled it before it returned in a calculating anger.  The attacks now came from the left, equally as vicious before but predictable. Backing away, the Jedi Master threw precautionary blows, singing the carapace as more low shrieks came from the creature. Another swipe came low and the Shistavanen hopped away as he took his lightsaber with both hands and delivered a crushing blow at the creature. The emerald blade bit through the chitin and the flesh, bisecting it from shoulder to the equivalent of hip. Looking over his vanquished foe, the Jedi howled in victory.

Holding his lightsaber low with both hands he remained vigilant. Scanning the bridge with a predatory eye. No enemy to take the place of this own. 

"Let us leave." He growled as he awaited for the rest of the Jedi.

[Ghostie]

Gaeriel’s narrowed eyes had been keenly focused on the datapad when the sharp pin prick of the sense of imminent danger trickled it’s way up her spine. The Jedi Knight had spun around with her deactivate lightsaber in one hand and the datapad in the other just in time to see a whirlwind of crystalline spikes headed towards the group of Jedi. Caught unawares, she brought her violet blade up to bat away the flying crystals headed for her specifically, but was simply not fast enough as a pair of the purple spikes tore at the left side of the torso to her suit, and another at the same shoulder, undoubtedly aimed for her midsection but thrown off because of her sudden turn.

“Karkkin’ hell…!”

The one at her shoulder glanced away, the small amount of plasteel armoring there providing enough protection for the crystal to ricochet away and into the viewport behind her. The two at her side, however, punctured Gaeriel’s voidsuit and continued on past her. There was an immediate vent of atmosphere from the suit as the Jedi Knight staggered backwards a few steps and dropped the datapad, still attached by cable to the computer terminal. Lightsaber held low in one hand, she used the other to feel the rips in her voidsuit as she did a quick look at the damage. No blood, and no pain. The crystal spikes must have just grazed her small form, and for that she counted herself lucky. She didn’t want to think of the damage those things could cause.

“Got some suit damage from those spikes!” Gaeriel called out as she turned a few valves on her voidsuit to section off the tears and try to stop the venting of air into Space. “I’m alright, but - ” The young woman was suddenly cut off when there was the thud and crunch of a alien body on the viewport up to the right and not far behind her. Snapping her head around, Gaeriel could see it stunned for a moment, with it’s six arms, two of which were shaped into almost spear-like weapons. It had not mouth, or nose, or any facial features, save for the several sunken sockets scattered across it’s head. It was, for a single word, ugly. And not a species that Gaeriel could wrack her limited knowledge to find.

And the viewport started to grow a bright orange-yellow behind it in the flames of re-entry.

The creature sprung for Gaeriel, and as the Jedi brought her lightsaber it bear, it was caught and frozen in mid-air. Taking one glance over her shoulder to see Master Moho reaching out past her, Gaeriel nodded a thanks, and before she could cut the creature down, the Prellian had crushed it with the Force. Locke had engaged in combat with the aliens on his own, as had Master Talvus. As the three Masters started the fight, Gaeriel kept working with her datapad and the computer console. Kneeling to scoop the device up, a quick glance confirmed it was done transferring all the important data that the Republic and the Jedi would want. Not ceremony was spent on disconnecting the device as Gaeriel ripped it from it’s ports in all haste, and joined the fray herself.

Moho’s words were loud and clear as the Prellian issued commands over the comms to the Vigor, yet, Gaeriel wasn’t at all stressed about their timetable. Five minutes was plenty of time to reach the escape pods Nef had mentioned. What the Jedi Knight was worried about was how many of these creatures laid between the Jedi and their escape. Moving as a jog, she reached out with one hand on her blade and sliced the new pair of arm-blades that headed for Moho as he spoke on the comms and worked the Force over the group. Losing balance, the creature stumbled forward, but Gaeriel didn’t give it a moment to recover. Bringing her blade down swiftly, she cleaved the alien in two, and it ceased to move. Sure that the Prellian wasn't harmed, Gaeriel moved to join the other Jedi at the door, one hand with her lit lightsaber at her side, and the other clutching the datapad.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t think I want to stop by the souvenir stand on the way out.”

[Rugs]

The Archeri perched on the viewport regarded Locke silently, thoughtfully, as his Jedi fellows lept to action. Then it lunged, screeching through the Force as it sliced through the air. Locke stepped aside, ducking a strike from the deadly-sharp spike that snapped out at him.

The creature landed heavily on the deck, throwing up a burst of the pale powder and chunks of the decomposing sludge with it. It pivoted quickly and slammed its two forearms into the ground.

A wave of Force energy exploded out from it, scooping up more of the detritus — a detached part of Locke, compartmentalized in the heat of battle, was mildly alarmed to see a half-rotten foot go sailing through the air and splat onto a console. He threw a hand up again, bring a second barrier to bear against the onslaught. He strained, surprised at the creature’s strength, but the barrier held.

The creature lunged again as Locke released the barrier. He ducked the blow, licking out at it with a stroke as its momentum carried it past. The stroke singed the Archeri’s thick hide but didn’t cut all the way through. Locke stepped forward, intending to follow through, but to his great surprise, the creature planted two of its thick arms to stop its forward momentum and turned to face him.

Next he knew, he was airborne, chest a blossom of pain from an impact that’d felt like a lev-train running full speed into him. A navigation console caught him gracelessly. His head swam as he saw the creature looming over him, arms raised to strike.

A thick, heavy blast of overcharged plasma hit the Archeri’s pockmarked face, staggering it. It went suddenly taught, then slack. Its upper body separated from its lower as Locke’s lightsaber, yellow blade thrumming in a momentary silence, returned to his hand from where he’d dropped it.

“Hello to you too,” Locke said, pushing himself up. His pistil’s barrel still smoked as refastened it to his voidsuit at the hip. His ribs ached from the blow, but he didn’t think anything was broken. No time to worry about it now, anyway. At least he was still alive.

Wouldn’t that be a way to go? he thought as he shook the cobwebs from his mind. Dear Lidah, we regret to inform you that T.R. was killed by a weird spider monster in the Galaxy’s most disgusting ship bridge.

The flames beyond the viewport burned brightly now, throwing a reddish-orange cast over the bridge. The Bright Horizon groaned loudly.

“If it’s all the same to you, Moho, I say we leave this damn ship and never come b-”

A loud crash cut Locke off as the ship shook suddenly, violently. He yelled as he grabbed onto a railing. Alarms blared loudly and Locke’s stomach told him the ship wasn’t holding steady.

“What the fuck is it now” he yelled. Another groan and crash that shook the ship like as violently as the first. Attahox was gone from the viewport, where deeper, more severe cracks spiderwebbed across the surface.

“Jedi, this is Commander LeKit,” the voice sounded across all of their comms. “Be advised, the Bright Horizon is tearing itself apart against resistance from Attahox’s atmosphere. Evacuate immediately.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice, Commander,” Locke said. He staggered toward the door they’d entered through as the ship continued to shudder.

The first break in the viewport was a small thing. A chip in the middle, perhaps no bigger than a hand. Another piece failed, then another, and another. The atmosphere, within the ship, began to vent, putting so much pressure on the shattered viewport that it failed in whole.

Locke looked back as the whole thing blew out into thousands of tiny pieces. He quickly grabbed nearby railing as everything that wasn’t bolted down--corpses, the sludge covering the floor and powder with it, a few damaged consoles, everything--went flying as air rushed into space.

Struggling to keep himself upright, Locke activated one magnetic seal on his boot, then the other.

“I hate this place!” he yelled as he pushed through the door, leaning against the wall on the other side against the pull of venting atmosphere. The last thing he saw of the bridge was the crystal breaking loose from its fungal growth and ejecting into space.

[Blue]

Through his Battle Meditation, Moho felt his fellow Jedi spring into action against their foes. Master Tolvus, deftly slicing through and cutting down his opponent. Master Nemsee, wrangling and finally putting down the creature that had bowled him over. And Knight Gaeriel, dutifully keeping by her station to download as much data as she could, despite the pain she felt from the wounds she received from the explosion that preceded the attack. The old Jedi felt a pang of concern for her. Who knows what those crystals could do if they get into your bloodstream? I shall have to inspect her once we are on some safer ground. His line of thought was interrupted by a loud crash that came from all around them as the ship buckled, seemingly starting to finally succumb to the forces impressing upon it. The vessel turned, the cracked view-port now showcasing the dark, star-speckled void of space as the Commander's voice soon came across their communication devices, warning them to evacuate the Bright Horizon immediately. Moho spared a worried glance over at the damaged view-port just in time to see it completely shatter. The old Master felt the screech as his bulk was dragged backwards towards the new hole into space, his metal framed limbs striking short-lived sparks from the deck. With a grunt, one of his large pincers flew down and smashed into the metal flooring, punching a handhold into the ground. Another grunt, another handhold, and the Prellian began his ascent towards the bridge's exit with surprising speed. Moho found himself reaching the doorway not long after Master Nemsee, turn to look back into the shattered bridge. "It's charm is wearing thin for me as well, I assure you," the old Jedi called back over the comms. Then his heart sank as he watched the crystal tear free and hurtled out through the broken view-port. Hopefully it will be destroyed, burning up in the atmosphere. Hopefully whatever fate it was bringing to this planet is averted. Hopefully we have not failed, and doomed an entire population to whatever destiny Teth endured. Hopefully, hopefully, hopefully... but what is done is done. All I can do now is ensure my fellows get free of this place. One large pincer reached out towards the two Jedi still in the room, assisting their efforts to reach the door with a steadying grip through the Force to make certain they would not fall and plummet into the cold dark of space. When all three of them had made it to the doorway, the old Jedi gestured to them to go in the direction of the pods. "To the escape pods, quickly now!" Moho encouraged calmly, only moving towards them himself when he was certain his younger fellows were safely proceeding.

[Ghostie]

“Jedi, this is Commander LeKit. Be advised, the Bright Horizon is tearing itself apart against resistance from Attahox’s atmosphere. Evacuate immediately.”

As if ushered on by the warning from Commander LeKit, the viewport started to shatter on cue. It was a slow thing, at first; one small sliver of transpirasteel was gone, out into Space. Then, the whole thing burst into thousands of countless shards, the vacuum pulling the debris out with all the ferocity it could muster. Gaeriel, for her part, simply tucked herself in behind the doorway to the bridge, deactivating her lightsaber and returning it to her belt as she spun away, dodging the tearing rush of atmosphere as best as she could. Checking that her suit was still holding itself together after the few glancing blows from the crystals, the Jedi Knight could feel the battering of air around her helmet as it flew past her and out into open Space. Securing her datapad, the Jedi Knight then wordlessly looked around for her comrades.

Locke was the first of the group to make it to the doorway as well, after Gaeriel. She debated saying some quippy line about hate leading to the Dark Side of the Force, but after everything that was going on, something told her that now was not the best time. Nonetheless, he looked like he didn’t need any help, as his magnetized boots were proving themselves quite useful once again. Peeking a single, narrow eye around the doorway, Gaeriel did see that Master Moho was struggling against the rush of atmosphere, however. Without waiting, without thinking, Gaeriel reached out with one hand around the frame of the door and tried to grab the Prellian in the Force. At the very least, she could stop his backwards descent out into Space. Gaeriel’s heart calmed a little and returned to her chest once she saw the Jedi Master start to slowly climb back towards her and Locke’s position. Sure that he was okay as well, once the last Jedi had exited Gaeriel turned and ran her lightsaber through the controls for the bridge door, shutting off the rush of air out into the cold vacuum as the durasteel portal closed in an instant.

Wordlessly leading the way, Gaeriel didn’t dare to talk until the group reached the escape pods. Not far from the bridge, but their chaotic run-jog through the Bright Horizon was dangerous enough. Sparks flew from twisted power couplings. The ship groaned and sundered itself under their feet. Once, Gaeriel lost her footing as the hallway gave a lurch up and a buck to the side, catching herself on the twisted durasteel of the wall. But finally rounding a corner, she saw a bank of escape pods, no doubt placed in such a spot for the bridge crew to have easy access in the event of an emergency. A pang of remorse flared up in the Jedi Knight due to the fact that they didn’t get the chance to save anyone. That remorse, however, was quickly replaced with a hard determination as she glanced at the datapad bouncing at her side. This had to get back to the Republic. They had to know what they were dealing with. That would be a victory in and of itself.

And the fact that the Voice was going to burn on reentry was an added bonus.

Not waiting for everyone to mill around the escape pods, Gaeriel opened the small hatch, and swung her lithe form through. Hastening up to the front and what controls there were for the small craft, Gaeriel strapped herself into a seat, and immediately assumed command of the pod. Thankfully, it and it’s launching bay were somehow miraculously saved from the Bright Horizon twisting itself into a giant, durasteel pretzel. Or at least, they were saved enough to still be useable. And useable was perfectly fine right now. Flipping a few switches into the on position and priming the engines, she took a quick glance over her shoulder.

“Everyone in!? Good.” She twisted a control to shut the hatch. “Strapped in!?” Without waiting for a response, she continued. “I don’t care.” And with that, the escape pod shot forth from the crumbling science vessel, out into Space. Attahox hung low and to the right, and the Vigor was waiting for them over to the other side, already closing on an intercept course when they saw the small escape craft launch.

[Rugs]

“I think ‘charm’ might be giving it too much credit, don’t you?” Locke could, with all honesty, say he’d never be so happy to see a ship tear itself apart into a burning wreck as he would with the Bright Horizon. As long as none of them were still on board.

And as long as its wreckage didn’t hit any habitated areas on the ground. Attahox being covered in rolling trash heaps at least made that less of an immediate concern.

His fellows arrived one after the other from the bridge and Locke didn’t hesitate to get moving once everyone escaped. He gave a backward glance as he left, wondering at the fate of that pulsating violet crystal. It was already too far gone into the void to see its glint, hidden amidst the chaotic debris field swarming in the Bright Horizon’s wake.

There was a lot to process, both in terms of raw data Gaeriel collected from the ship’s systems and in what the Jedi had seen on their brief journey through the doomed science vessel. Force only knew what else they might have found if the ship hadn’t kindly taken to destroying itself with them aboard.

As if spurred by his thoughts, the Bright Horizon lurched, turning hard to the side with a shudder and groan. Locke saw thick orange flames streaming alongside a viewport about shoulder-height on the wall. He thought he could see the wispy cloud tops, inching ever nearer.

Right, no time to get all retrospective yet Nemsee, he chided himself as he staggered against the ship’s shaking. Not unless you wanna burn up with this damn ship.

The escape pods were, blessedly, a short trip from the bridge. They were aligned on either side of a raised portion of the ship’s spine, a bit behind the bridge. Only one pod was gone. Most were not.

“I hope the ones that got away had better luck than the rest,” Locke said, momentarily solemn.

The escape pods were simple things, as most were, Get in, strap in, punch it and let it kick you in the ass as you rocketed out into space. They weren’t exactly designed for comfort, though and Locke could already see an issue emerging with some of the group’s larger members.

“We’re not all gonna fit,” he said. Sparks rained from overhead as another shudder shook the ship. “You all go. I’ll get in one and we’ll regroup later.” He started to duck into one directly across from the other pod as Gaeriel checked to ensure they were all ready to go.

As the rest of the team jettisoned away from the failing vessel, Locke entered his pod and sealed the hatch behind him. He took a seat at the fore, view screen now mostly filled with Attahox save for a slice of black where the planet curved way past the distant horizon.

He strapped himself in and braced for that kick in the ass.

[Blue]

Though the fate of the violet crystal still weighed heavy on the old Prellian's mind, his main concern now was the safe extraction of his fellow Jedi. They had all made it to the bridge doors, and Moho bowed his head towards Knight Gaeriel in thanks for her assistance as she plunged her lightsaber into the controls and forced the doors to seal against the hard vacuum. The short trip towards the escape pods was tense indeed, with sparks flying from tormented lights, metal surfaces buckling suddenly around them, and the ever present dying groan of the Bright Horizon as it slowly succumbed to the natural forces of heat and gravity. However, other than the occasional live wire whipping about, the journey proved much safer than their investigation of the bridge had been and the four Jedi made it to the pods in no worse condition. Of course, there was the small matter of space; the escape pods were clearly not made with larger species in mind, a fact pointed out by Master Nemsee. The human also commented on the singular missing pod, and his hope that they escaped. The old Master said nothing. As much as he hoped for the same, the silence that followed Teth's incident, and the information Nef had given them, led him to believe a far more pessimistic outcome. "I should be able to squeeze into one of them by myself," Moho assured them, moving his way over to the entrance of one as he spoke. He hit a button and the door slid open, revealing the interior. He let out a contemplative hum as he studied it, doing some quick mathematics in his head. "Well, it will certainly be snug, but I should be fine. I shall see you all back aboard the Vigor." After a bit of awkward and uncomfortable movement, Moho was finally able to reach the console in the front of the escape pod. The Jedi Master was left standing sideways and with a seat jabbing into his lower carapace, but was as secure as he could be under the circumstances. Reaching out with one pincer, the mechanical fingers of his exo-rig extending and entering the launch sequence, the pod shot forth into the void. As he tumbled through space, Moho's mind returned once more to the crystal. I will have to meditate on it once I return to the Vigor... and on a great many other things. The memory of the phantom sensation he experienced during his vision before the mission flickered across his mind. Surrounding. Closing in. I fear things are swiftly becoming quite dire.

[Rugs]

The kick in the ass was less than pleasant, even prepared for it as Locke was.

With a shuddering whoosh, the escape pod lunged from its tube at speed and acceleration that made Locke wonder if the skin of his face would peel off and stick to the durasteel hatch behind him. He caught a glimpse of the Bright Horizon, engulfed in flames and dark smoke and falling to pieces as it breached Attahox’s upper atmosphere.

The Vigor was on the other side of the ship, moving to intercept two pods that raced out into the inky dark beyond the other side of the ship. Everyone made it out. Relief was a strange feeling, after the things Locke had just seen, but he let some wash over him as his pod, skimming the outer reaches of the atmosphere itself, slowed from teeth-rattling fury to simply hundreds-of-kilometers-per-second fast.

Perhaps he should’ve jumped into a pod on the other side of the hall; his trajectory and the Vigor’s current occupation with collecting the pods shot into orbit meant he’d likely have to wait on a pickup on the ground.

That was fine, really. It gave him some time to think, and there was so much to think about.

Locke folded his arms and closed his eyes. The pod was heavily automated, as most were, and wouldn’t need his help to get down to the surface unless something went wrong.

An indecipherably-powerful presence, the strange creatures and their sacred ground, the liquified remains of the Bright Horizon’s crew... Locke couldn’t say which of the team’s discoveries were the most disturbing.

Maybe none of them. They’d only gotten a taste--a minor fraction on the tragedy that had befallen Teth and Force only knew how many other worlds.

“We will allow this intrusion,” the great, booming voice had said. But why? What did this so-called Chorus gain from letting the Jedi kill several of its members and collect what information the Bright Horizon retained and possibly prevent its crystal from reaching Atthox?

Did it even really care? Lock wondered. Would a force conquering worlds of millions care about taking a planet lined with landfills? The vision forced into his mind from the accidental contact had shown him countless worlds, and people. And Lidah.

The escape pod shuddered. Locke opened his eyes to see orange flames licking at the edge of his limited view screen. The pod pierced a towering nimbus cloud, leaving a trail of wispy white as it plunged to the surface.

---

“And that was the time I almost got killed by a horrible bug fungus monster aboard the most disgusting ship bridge I’ve ever seen.

There’s a lot to dissect here. I’m still not really sure to think about all this. But whatever these... things are, it’s abundantly clear that they’re extraordinarily dangerous.

I guess the whole planetary conquest thing was a hint at that too.

Anyway, the pickup’s arrived.

Stay safe, and I’ll be in touch soon.

-D3adb0lt”

Lock sent the encrypted message and clicked off his datapad. He was in the middle of some trash field, filled with mountains of scrap and other old worthless junk. He’d landed near the evening line, though it’d long since transitioned to night time.

He had, at least, gotten a stunning view of the Bright Horizon’s debris streaking through the evening sky shortly after landing. The Vigor had dispatched teams to inspect the landing sites and make sure the ship’s remains hadn’t fallen on civilized areas.

But Commander LeKit had been kind enough to spare a dropship to come get Locke.

I’ll have to get him a Life Day card, Locke mulled as he stood and clambered out of the escape pod. He stood atop a small mound of broken droids as the dropship’s searchlights burned away the darkness.

“We see you Master Nemsee,” the dropship pilot said. “Watch out for debris.”

The craft touched down in a flurry of dust and dirt. Two troopers emerged, in sealed suits, with a pair of hoses connected to a water tank. Locke nodded and they sprayed, washing off the pale powder and half-dried sludge that coated his suit with high-pressure streams.

“An inelegant solution, but the best we had on short notice,” a familiar voice said. Commander LeKit stepped out of the dropship, wearing an air mask over his face. No one wanted to risk exposure to the powder.

“An understandable one, Commander,” Locke said. “There’s a bit of the stuff in the pod, so be careful, if anyone goes to inspect it. I think we’ll want to remove it, at least.”

“Of course,” the commander said with a nod. “We’ll have the hazardous materials team collect what they can. It may be of use.”

Locke nodded, stepping onto the dropship. Another dropship was coming into land behind them as its engines roared to life.

“I’m told the Bright Horizon’s was even worse off than expected,” LeKit said, as the dropship took to the sky.

Locke sighed, then shook his head. “Commander,” he said, pulling off his helmet, “you don’t know the half of it.”

[Blue]

Moho found himself back in his chambers aboard the Vigor in short order. His retrieval and subsequent decontamination had been thankfully swift and effective, and he was comfortably back in his hoverchair while his exo-rig was properly checked over from any remaining traces of contaminates. The gentle thrum of the vessel's engines once more surrounded the Prellian, his relief growing more pronounced with each notification that his fellow Jedi had been found, treated, and brought back on board. Although through the Force he was certain they were safe, the moment the last of them, Master Nemsee, was confirmed alive and well, Moho released a breath he had not fully realised he had been holding. With his companions accounted for and attended to, the old Jedi Master had retired to his room to think on what the mission had revealed. A mysterious foe, consuming whole planets. A mind, countless in number, directing it. A goal, uncertain but so far seemingly simple yet no less terrifying. More questions arose from the trip to the Bright Horizon than were answered, though there was still some hope in the data they had been able to retrieve from the doomed ship's bridge. Yet even that began to feel suspect to Moho; the voice that had spoken to them had appeared unfazed at their intrusion. And the odds that one ship managed to escape whatever fate befell Teth, only to appear near a relatively empty planet with answers on board, sending out a signal for help... It was not an impossibility, but it was starting to feel all too convenient. Either that, or their opponents gave no care about whatever resistance the galaxy could muster against it. Whatever the case, it was time to meditate on the worrisome things that he had learned this day. As the minutes passed, the Prellian sank deeper and deeper into the welcoming embrace of the Force. He acknowledged the anxiety he felt upon seeing his younger Jedi compatriots in danger and pain. He acknowledged the sense of dread that his Force Vision before the mission gave him. He acknowledged the ongoing feeling of unease that threatened to smother him over the glancing contact with such a powerful presence. And, one by one, Moho let them go. Moment after moment, the ancient Jedi's being became more and more empty as his concerns and fears fell away, becoming nothing more than shadows and dust until all that remained was the Force. Afloat, buoyed up and open to the all encompassing power of life and light, the Visions came. A violet crystal, burning, cracking... shattered. All it was, reduced to void-blown dust. A planet saved, with ominous tidings promised. The first one was familiar, a thread he had followed. More tumbled after, however. Scared, anchor-less, uprooted. Salvation reached, succour but an arms reach away. A betrayal, brought unknowingly by those erstwhile saviours, turning hope to despair... then silence. Curiosity beckoning; learn, understand, potential to conquer. Fruitless desire born of ignorance of a thing's true nature, leading to fire. Why were they let go, to live and fight once more? Would they even wish to, after today? Opportunity, hungry eyes witnessing destruction and craving power. Arrogance turning to self-destruction, callousness born of fear. Erstwhile allies turned against one another, sickened, clasping what meager prizes could be claimed. "Mas... oho, co-" A crashed vessel, crying for help. A mission completed, ending in hope, then turning to ash. Misery, as a duty that must be done takes its toll. Moho sank further down into his trance as he cast the net wider, seeking enlightenment. Images, sensations, and alien feelings flashed through the old Master's mind as the Visions came faster and faster. The Prellian's brain, wired even as it was for excellence in multitasking, was taxed hard to shift through and absorb them all. Not all were relevant; one was concerning a planetary government brought to task about corruption committed decades ago, another had Moho bare witness to the death throes of an ancient star. He let go his sense of self, allowing his being to become a simple conduit which the Force could flow through unabated. "-aster M... can you h-" Unbeknownst to the Jedi while in his meditations, he had risen from his hoverchair, coming to rest in the dead center of the chamber. Loose items had also begun to float, orbiting Moho like planetary bodies circling a star. If anyone sensitive to the Force were to look in his direction of the ship, they would have seen a bright, whitish-blue light with a near-golden center radiating from the old Master. The metal walls of his chamber started to softly creek. Then the final Vision came. Figures in the garb of Republic officials. Figures in the dress of Empire diplomats. Both sides standing before one another. A pair of hands stretching out to clasp as the familiar sensation of scratching began to itch upon his carapace... "Master Moho, please respond." The sound of Commander LeKit finally came through as the vision ended. Moho slowly opened his eyes and looked around for his commlink, noting the floating objects nearby him with a light 'hm'. After setting all the levitating items gently down and settling back into his hoverchair, the old Jedi retrieved his communication device and answered. "How can I help, Commander LeKit?" Moho asked. There was a slight pause before the Commander's voice responded. "We've been trying to contact you for some time, Master Jedi. We assumed you were still resting, but grew concerned when you continued to fail to respond, and we were unable to open your room's door. Is everything alright?" The Prellian glanced across to the chronometer on the wall, uttering another 'hm' as it revealed that over three hours had passed since he began his meditations. "All is well, Commander, thank you for your concern. I was simply deep in mediation. I shall attend to the door momentarily." After a curt acknowledgement from the military man, the line was cut and Moho floated over to the door. The button failed to activate, the releasing mechanism apparently being damaged at some point during his visions. With a gesture, a set of tools hovered over as the old Jedi began to fix the door, finding some comfort in the simple routine of restoration after the bombardment of images and sensations from the visions.