Faction Dude, Where's My Space Station

[Zaiya Ceti]

​

Deep Space
Objective I - Bridge of the Tython Space Station
Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x x x | Weapons: x x x
Allies: Kahlil Noble Ran Serys Corazona von Ascania Mahsa Amelia von Sorenn
Unknowns: Joseph Torson Tibera Jessen Nulgath Zardai

-

It took Zaiya a few moments to gather herself, the fog of unconsciousness slowly lifting as she blinked, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Her iridescent blue eyes scanned the room, first landing on Mahsa, who looked as confused as she felt. Both Padawans had clearly experienced something strange while they were out, but what exactly?

A sharp sigh of exasperation pulled Zaiya's gaze upward, and her eyes met the towering, amazonian figure of a woman she didn't recognize. For a moment, Zaiya tensed, her skin flashing pale with alarm. The woman was unfamiliar, and yet… the Force told her there was no threat, only the intention to help.

She flinched slightly as a medical remote zipped around her and then the woman injected something into her arm -- a dermainjector, by the look of it. Anti-shock serum, probably for a concussion.

Wait, do I have a concussion?

Zaiya blinked again, her vision finally clearing as she shook off the disorientation. The adults -- Master Kahlil, Knight von Ascania, Knight Serys -- weren't reacting negatively to this stranger, so she had to assume the woman was an ally. Still, the confusion clung to her mind like fog, making it hard to focus. Did... did they manage to beat the undead? What about the Alliance Fleet?

Her thoughts scattered, Zaiya's concern shifted to Mahsa.

"Mahsa, are you okay?" she asked, her voice quiet but filled with worry. The muted, swirling colors on her skin -- soft greys and pale yellows -- betrayed her anxiety. But before Mahsa could answer, something else caught Zaiya's attention.

Imperials. Walking right onto the bridge. Their presence made her skin seem to vibrate with a pulsing bioluminescence -- not to mention, the smell of refuse from earlier off of them was.... ripe.

There was too much happening at once. Zaiya's heart pounded in her chest as her eyes darted around. In the distance, near Cora, she saw a shriveled figure hunched over. Who -- or what -- was that? And then --

Wait, someone surrendered?

It was too much to process all at once.

"W-wait. What's going on? What are we doing?" Zaiya's voice wavered as she reached out, her arm instinctively curving around Mahsa, trying to steady her friend as much as herself. Her wide, bewildered eyes swept from Master Kahlil to Cora, and then to Ran --

Oh stars! Zaiya gasped. Ran had a knife in her side!

 

[Vesh’ira’nuruodo]

​

OBJECTIVE: Containment
TAGS: Marlon Sularen | Nulgath Zardai | Abraxas Colt | Tibera Jessen | Kahlil Noble | Ran Serys | Corazona von Ascania | Mahsa | Zaiya Ceti | Amelia von Sorenn | Pal Veda | Valery Noble | Azurine Varek | Ayhan | Aris Noble | Drego Ruus

"Imperial signatures detected."

"From where?" Shiran asked, moving over to her sensors officer. "Trajectory?"

"Possibly from Tython. It's along that route."

"That explains why they missed our interdiction field. How many signatures?"

"Four, including a battlecruiser."

Typical formation. Imperials were very focused on their large vessels. Intimidation was what they relied on. They wouldn't find that with her. She'd seen far worse odds. Even if they could field more fighters, which was possible given that ships size, they wouldn't be comparable to the clawcraft and those piloting them. This was a Chiss taskforce. They had the utmost discipline and she expected them to remain calm and collected in the face of danger. Besides, this situation was a unique one, and the two sides firing on each other would help no one.

"Get me technical data on all four ships. As detailed as you can make them. Communications, get me Captain Thruln."

"Secure connection established."

"Admiral?" Thruln asked, appearing on the holoprojector.

"Make room for the imperial forces. Keep all defenses and weapons systems online, but order your fighters to keep their distance. I don't want an avoidable incident here."

"Yes, Admiral."

The holo turned off and Shiran perched her right elbow in her left hand, fingers clacking her nails together. She did this when she was deep in thought. The presence of the Imperials was not unexpected given the station itself had been theirs to command at Tython. The question was, would they cooperate, or would they make the situation worse?

"They're broadcasting to the station."

"I'm sure they still have people onboard. Do we have any information on who was in the Alliance strike team set to attack the station?"

"It looks like the Supreme Commander is aboard the station according to reports from Tython."

Well now. That was an interesting turn of events. Unexpected, as well. Shouldn't she have been with her fleet at Tython? Why was she on a space station in the middle of deep space? Well, it didn't matter. What mattered is, she now had someone she could directly contact on the station, in theory.

"Patch me through to her personal communicator."

"Transmitting."

"Supreme Commander, this is Rear Admiral Shiran. If you're receiving this, I have set up a perimeter around the station. There are Imperial vessels on approach. I'm going to attempt to garner cooperation with them in dealing with the situation. If you can get to a shuttle or an escape pod, we have services ready for triage and containment."

She motioned for the line to be cut and then stared out at the approaching Imperial vessels. The question at hand was how the Imperial's were going to play this. The Groundlion-class Silent Fist began to shift from its current position to make room for the Imperial vessels. If they were going to assist with the containment perimeter that would be appreciated. Should they choose, instead, to make efforts to breach the perimeter, with hostile intent, then resistance would be offered.

Several small vessels left the Imperial ones, approaching the station. Were they sending soldiers to the station? So, they intended to try and salvage it. Stupid. Very stupid. Blackwing was not something to be taken so lightly, and yet it seemed that was how the Empire wished to approach it. More than likely they had ulterior motives for the effort.

"Don't fire on the transports, but send a broadcast on Alliance frequencies that imperial soldiers are inbound."

 

[Mahsa]

Location: Bridge Room
Objective: Survive

---

She caught snippets of the conversation between Master Noble, Knight Ascania, and @Darth Immortuos—though it was hard to focus on them when her attention remained affixed on a singular Imperial presence. "Mahsa, are you okay?" Zaiya’s words are the first to truly sink as the Lovalla came to her side, silencing the low warning growl that had been reverberating in her throat—unnoticed—from the moment Joseph Torson had entered the bridge.

"I’m f-fine…" She hates being the reason her friend’s skin glows with muted grays and yellows, and the tension visibly lessens now that Zaiya is beside her. The Lovalla had been followed by a tall and imposing figure, the scent of medical supplies overpowering the pungent odor that had begun spreading since Torson’s squad had entered the bridge.

Her hand is quick to seek Zaiya’s and hold it when the scalpel comes into view, alarm rippling through her hair in deep ambers and vibrant ochers as the flash of a memory carries through. This isn’t the Cage… This isn’t the Cage… The gentle but firm pressure on her shoulder helps ground the Kazelrrian, golden eyes peering up to look at the Mirialan, before Mahsa gives a shaky nod in response to Amelia von Sorenn as she apologizes for the treatment the young padawan is about to endure.

It helps to have Zaiya’s emotions mingle with her own, even as a wave of guilt carries through the resonance established by their touch. Her eyes remain closed for most of the procedure, her clenched jaw only loosening when she’s unable to contain her pained hisses any longer, and it felt like an eternity had lapsed before the woman finished suturing and dressing up her wound.

"T-Thank you." The sting from the stimpack is barely felt at the end, her voice quiet as she thanks the woman while a wordless wave of gratitude flows towards the Lovalla before Mahsa finally lets go of Zaiya’s hand. Her side is still uncomfortable after such an impromptu operation, though it's certainly nothing compared to the pain she’d endured thanks to the slug that had been lodged inside.

"Guess you wouldn't believe I'm here to surrender?"

The bridge continues to get livelier as Tibera Jessen steps in as well, her weapon dropped to the ground and hands raised in clear surrender. It’s only now that she’s finally noticed the dagger still embedded in Ran’s abdomen, and it's hard to separate her own confusion from Zaiya’s when the Lovalla pressed closer—her own arm wrapping around her friend to offer her own silent support as they try to make sense of what’s actually going on.

"Is the f-fight over—"

[ This is Warlord Sularen of the Empire to the Tython Orbital Station. Imperial reinforcements are inbound to provide rescue and containment. What is the current situation onboard the station? ]​

---

Apparel

Devices

Weapons

【✶】⋆【✶】⋆【✶】

【✶】⋆【✶】⋆【✶】

【✶】⋆【✶】⋆【✶】

Corazona von Ascania | Kahlil Noble | Ran Serys | Zaiya Ceti ​

 

[The Infected Storyteller]

Objective I
Tags: Mahsa Kahlil Noble Corazona von Ascania Amelia von Sorenn Joseph Torson Tibera Jessen Ran Serys Zaiya Ceti Pal Veda Nulgath Zardai

First the power began tripping sporadically, causing the bridges communication systems to cut in and out. You may notice the faint static or the hollow silence that follows as the steady hum of the comms vanish, replaced by unsettling gaps in sound. The bridges energy supply seems to flicker in protest, the lights dimming without warning, casting long shadows that dance along the walls. You might start to wonder how the main power is being tampered with—especially since the bridge access is secured and sealed off. It shouldn't be possible, but something, or someone, is meddling with it.

The flickering continues, uneven and unsettling, as though the bridge is struggling to maintain control of itself. The darkness comes in waves, pressing in closer, suffocating, before the lights blink back to life in a desperate attempt to restore normalcy.

But then you hear it.

At first, it's faint, so soft it could be mistaken for the malfunctions. It was easy to dismiss it as malfunctioning wires, the normal groaning of old metal, or maybe even a trick of the mind. But as you listen closely, you may feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise—a scratching. A slow, deliberate sound, like nails dragging across the blast doors. The gnashing of enamel grinding against cold durasteel. It comes in bursts, just enough to make you question if you really heard it, only for the noise to return from a different direction. Scrape, pause, scrape—relentless and unsettling.

And somewhere, just beyond those thick doors, they are waiting and probing for weakness.

Objective II
Tags: Valery Noble Azurine Varek Aris Noble Ayhan

A low groan echoed further down the corridor, reverberating off the walls. It was a response to the actions of Azurine Varek and her first sweep of her blade. The stench hit next—putrid, thick, and overwhelming. You might instinctively hold your breath or feel the bile rise in your throat as the smell of rot and decay that saturated the halls. It's the smell of flesh that had once been fresh, now rapidly decomposing under the relentless grip of the Blackwing virus. A sickly sweet aroma. The infected ahead are clumsy—Imperial officers, engineers, and pilots, freshly turned, stumbling awkwardly in their uniforms. Their movements lack coordination, and their eyes, once filled with purpose, now glaze over with a milky, lifeless sheen. You could still see the emotion on their faces and clotted blood on their clothing. Blood mixed with globs of black goo.

They stagger forward, drawn to the faintest hint of life. Each shuffle and scrape of their boots on the cold durasteel floors feels heavier in the faltering light, their moans becoming a warped symphony of eternal hunger, hate and anger. With each step they "awake up" as if the sudden realization of exactly how hungry their really were dawned on their absent minds.

Their numbers appeared enough to block the path forward and the lunged forward for a fresh meal.

Objective III
Tags: Vesh’ira’nuruodo Marlon Sularen Silas Westgard Drego Ruus

The main hangar, though secure for the moment, trembled under the growing chaos erupting elsewhere within the space station. From one of the secondary hangars, a pair of transport shuttles tore violently into the vacuum of space. The first was erratic, veering in unpredictable patterns like a wild animal in its death throes. Its trajectory wobbled, sharply banking left, then plummeting downward, only to pull up at the last second—uncoordinated and reckless. The second followed suit moments later, the hum of its engines screaming as it narrowly missed colliding with debris.

The readings made no sense. No life? Yet these shuttles were being flown with some semblance of control, as chaotic as it appeared. Apon closer magnification of the shuttles. The viewport was crammed, packed to the brim with undead. Faces pressed against the glass in grotesque, distorted piles—lips pulled back in frozen snarls, dead eyes staring blankly outward. Their bodies were wedged in so tightly that their limbs had bent and broken from the force of being shoved together, yet still, they clawed and squirmed as if seeking some escape. A wall of rotting flesh and twisted limbs, they stretched toward freedom, unaware of the blockage that surrounded the station.

 

[Amelia von Sorenn]

SURVIVE​

​

Equipment: Medical Remote | Aid Kit​

Weapons: Vibrosword | AT-NB5​

​

Another sigh of exasperation slipped from her lips, for all of their abilities and their connection to the Force, the Jedi were a stubborn lot. Amelia tactfully pulled the gloves from her hands, first pinching the material at the wrist and pulling it forward so it wound up inside-out in her hand. Slowly, she balled the glove into her still-gloved hand as she slipped two fingers beneath the material on her left hand and pulled forward, turning the last glove inside-out as to contain both sets before discarding them. Checking the bag at her side, she pulled a field dressing and Battlestim from the aid kit before turning to Ran. ​

​

"Take these. The Field Dressing should help in securing the knife and preventing it from moving and doing any more damage. The Battlestimulant should help with any residual pain and help sharpen your mind to focus on the task." ​

​

As she stepped away, her attention fell upon Cora, her hand lightly touched the Jedi's shoulder as she offered a smile. Nodding to the two Padawans, the small remote hovered in front of them, checking their vitals though remaining silent. She understood the worry of the Jedi and could see it clearly in her eyes even as she turned her attention to the individual with a knife protruding from their side. ​

​

"I'll take care of these two, just keep an eye on her. You Jedi... you can be a stubborn lot..." ​

​

Amelia said as she returned to the two Padawans, kneeling once more as she placed two of her fingers against Mahsa's neck to check her pulse, her attention shifting to the wound on her side to make sure that the bleeding had, at the very least, subsided. Though it was likely still a maladie in the Outer Rim and less developed Planets, Lead Poisoning wasn't something that any individual should really experience to any degree. Her ears perked up as her attention was drawn toward the entrance to the bridge, vibrant blue hues falling upon the Imperial that came limping in, and seemingly, with some intelligence, at least mentioning the possibility of surrendering. ​

​

As she slowly rose from her position, she pulled the large aid kit up, slinging it over her shoulder as the small remote rushed away from the two Padawans currently recovering. The small device began to hover around Tibera Jessen before it chimed in...​

​

"Species: Human... Status: Multiple blunt force traumas detected, injured leg, possible hairline fracture detected, possible concussion... Diagnosis: Medical attention required." ​

​

Had it been any other time, she'd have just as likely let the Imperials to their own devices and allow the Galaxy to sort them out; however, at that moment she was at least willing to offer some form of assistance. Turning toward the Jedi Master, she didn't seem all too enthused with the prospect, however, she wasn't about to let them suffer the kind of death that this particular virus would bring. ​

​

"Many of them are experiencing sufficient traumas, it may be difficult to move most of them to the Medbay or any other area without additional support. I can do what I can from here, yet my supplies are also limited in what I can provide." ​

​

Amelia turned back to the Imperial that had just limped onto the command deck, her attention shifting as she noticed how Mahsa had reacted. It was, for now, the better idea to keep the two groups separated to prevent any further antagonizing of the two sides. Stepping forward, Amelia helped Tibera steady herself as she walked the wounded trooper to the other Imperials. Her vibrant blue hues fell upon each individual in turn as the small remote began to hover around Joseph Torson and the other troopers. ​

​

"Species: Unknown... Status: Extreme Trauma to extremities, Tibia and Fibula broken in multiple locations, additional blunt force traumas detected... Diagnosis: Immediate medical attention required..." ​

​

"If you have any medical supplies with you, first aid kit, bandages, or stimpacks, I need to take count and see what we have readily available. Get that done..." ​

​

Amelia said in short order before turning away, her attention falling toward the doors as she stepped into the hallway. Scanning the area, her attention fell to the soldiers in the hallway, those that apparently couldn't move being guarded by those that still could. With a heavy sigh, she stepped forward, grabbing two of the wounded individuals and lifting them before stalking back into the bridge and setting them down next to the other Imperials. Each trip she would grab another individual, hefting them up as though they were weightless and carrying them onto the bridge to deposit them together.​

​

It was going to be a long day...​

​

​

​

Kahlil Noble | Corazona von Ascania | Zaiya Ceti | Mahsa | Ran Serys


​

​

​

 

[Ayhan]

Objective II: Rescue
Allies: Valery Noble | Aris Noble | Azurine Varek | Kahlil Noble | Zaiya Ceti | Mahsa
Enemies: ??? | Zombies

All this noise. Their voices. The hum of their sabers. Their boots on the cold metal of the dead station. But it wasn't just them that Ayhan could hear. Ragged, inhuman breathing. Boots scuffing along the ground as feet dragged along. They were not alone. The survivors were not alone. The depth of the chit they were in was fathomless, if that hadn't been obvious before. This was not just a simple extraction, or a search and destroy. They might as well have been operating behind enemy lines, in hostile territory.

"They know where we are. They're coming," Aris said.
"Let them," Ayhan growled, the grip on his saber tightening as he moved towards the front of the group, eager to do something.
The sound of clambering began to echo all around them, bodies crashing into metal, each other. In the dark, Ayhan could see a number of them begin to make their appearance.
"Get ready. We fight our way through."
"They're already here."

A rope of fire shot past Ayhan's face, the heat warming his cheek as it struck the bodies before them, setting them alight. Ayhan couldn't help but grin for just a moment, before the fire unexpectedly snuffed itself out.

That wasn't a good sign.

A loud crash echoed through the halls as the ceiling panel in front of Ayhan fell to the ground, and another of the Blackwing-infected with it. Ayhan wasted little time, driving his saber through its chest first, before withdrawing and then decapitating the thing.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Kahlil Noble Nulgath Zardai Joseph Torson Pal Veda

The fact that Tibera Jessen had, one: not been zombified, and two: surrendered to the Jedi, were of equal surprise.

Cora blinked. Then, she shook her head.

"Not the strangest thing to have happened today by far."

Her attention turned back towards Ran Serys , then the Padawans and the woman who was tending to them. A part of Cora was still in awe that Amelia von Sorenn managed to make it through the portal before it closed - but that was a good thing for them. The Supreme Commander was not only adept in naval warfare, but a competent medic.

After handing Ran supplies for her wound, Amelia's hand fell upon Cora's shoulder. The knight smiled back, though it was forced.

"I know they'll be safe with you and Master Noble. They're good kids, and I…" she trailed, eyes falling over the slight forms of Zaiya Ceti and Mahsa as they stirred. Seeing them awake, even if confused, visibly assuaged some of her concern.

"…Thank you," she finished. With a nod to Amelia, Cora went about helping Ran to secure her field dressing if needed.

The lights flickered. Cora could've sworn that she'd heard the faint scrape of nails on durasteel somewhere beyond the thick blast door. Goosebumps prickled across her arms and behind her neck.

She threw Ran a worried glance, her voice low in grave warning.

"Something…doesn't feel right out there."

Understatement of the century.

"Maybe we should try the emergency shaft?"

 

[Ran Serys]

"Put your hands down, Mercenary," Ran ordered. "And pick up your weapons. We're on the same side for the foreseeable future, or at least while we contend with the virus that's taken hold of this station." The mirialan explained with just a hint of venom in her voice. After all, the knife in Ran's stomach belonged to the mercenary.

She clutched the battle stimulant and field dressing the Supreme Commander put in her hands. She passed the field dressing to Cora, who Ran was less eager to dismiss help from. Ran accepted the assistance of her fellow Knight, while she distracted herself and stared at the battlestim. Ran had her fill of stimulants, and foreign substances. She knew the Supreme Commander was only looking out for her, but the trauma of forced experimentation was a hard one to leave behind. She nodded a solemn and sincere thanks and slipped the battlestim into a utility pouch. Maybe she would have need of it later. Maybe.

The Knights locked eyes as Cora finished with the dressing in good time. "I can sense it too." Ran admitted. "Whatever's happening is… It's ominous and vile. Like he was." Ran observed before gesturing to the withering, and pleading man. She almost pitied him but her instincts wouldn't let her. "Let's." Ran agreed with Cora in taking the emergency shaft to the MedBay level.

"You're with us, Mercenary. We're finding and clearing a path to the MedBay. You can have your knife back then." Ran said. She knew earlier when their fight concluded that their business together wasn't finished yet. But what was that business? Ran was no seer, but her precognitive skills were growing even if the future was constantly muddled.

Ran went down the shaft first, climbing down girders, crossing over top and underneath I-beams, and shifting her weight across catwalks. She paused as she began to feel faint. "I need a moment, Master Ascania. My body is betraying me." Ran said as her vision grew blurry and she leaned deeper into the open air of the shaft. The updraft smelled of rot, which made her even more dizzy. Her balance began to leave her and she leaned even further into the shaft. She was on the verge of falling into it.

Corazona von Ascania Tibera Jessen Amelia von Sorenn

Nulgath Zardai​

 

[Drego Ruus]

Tag: Silas Westgard
​

"Tanya, blow up those shuttles." For Drego, it was that simple.

The War Jaws spun within the hanger, and without a second thought, lit up the shuttles with a torrent of blaster fire. The first one fell, slamming into the floor of the hanger, before the second attempted to fly off.

Only to erupt in an explosion of flame as the walker lit up it's engine compartment.

"Tanya, moving out. Keep the hanger clear, and deal with the leftovers of the shuttle. No mercy for the dead."

A thump could be heard from the back of the walker, as an explosive mortar round lightly sailed to the hole that now poured undead out of the shuttle.

Drego himself, pushed inward. He had some life readings from inside the station, five men nearby. Someone was alive in there. The next few minutes were a whirlwind of violence. Drego was a man of efficiency, preferring to deal with the dead with high explosives rather than any form of nuanced combat. These weren't men of honor, these were droids of meat. Faceless soldiers that had long past. There was nothing to honor, nothing to show reverence to, just an obstacle in his way.

Thump, after thump, his underbarrel grenade launcher worked through the halls of the station. Closer and closer to whatever was nearby.

Then he hit it. The turn of a corner, and in front of him was a set of troopers looking worse for wear, and a jedi. He nearly unloaded six rounds of buckshot into them, but he paused as he looked to them.

"Sight for sore eyes, you folks." He gruffly laughed, before gesturing for them to follow. "I've cleared a path, come on. We've got imps to clear out."

 

[Aris Noble]

There was no hesitation from Aris as he dove through the incoming threat. His body was perfect for this sort of threat. They couldn't scratch him, or bite him. So, he went vanguard, rushing into the thick of it to bring his saber around and through the living dead. He stayed with the others as much as he could, acting the shield through the fact they couldn't hurt him.

He wouldn't let any of them get hurt.

Valery Noble | Azurine Varek | Ayhan

 

[Wedge Draav]

Bring 'em home.
​

Captain Wedge Draav had done a lot of things.

Fell in love with a noble woman, and possibly ruined her royal bloodline.

Gained the ire of the entire Galactic Senate.

He had killed more enemy combatants in both air to air and air to ground operations than possibly any other Galactic Alliance Pilot in history.

He had destroyed an Imperial Elite unit, nearly single-handedly.

He'd been shot down four times.

But-

He had never, never abandoned his comrades, his men, or the Alliance in need. He'd always be there. He'd always come. A shrieking black X-wing tore across the debris, expertly maneuvering, dodging, and rolling as the unidentified vessel came screeching outwards into the void of space. Unluckily for the undead, driven by desire and nothing more-

The void of space was not their domain. It was Wedge's.

His black X-wing, the Revenant Squadron paint still bright and untarnished, rolled into attack formation on one of the transports- and sent a furious screech of hate and discontent, in the form of a bolt barrage, into its' rear. He dodged the explosion, the cold void of space taking care of what remained inside. He pulled his oxygen mask over his face- a habit from being an in-atmosphere pilot. Plus, it regulated his breathing a bit better.

He flicked on the comms, humming at first.

"This is Captain Wedge Draav speaking- on station and ready for tasking."

He screeched by the entire space station, activating his thrusters- doing a flyby of it- rattling the structure a little.

 

[General Xiang Zhong]

OBJECTIVE III: CONTAINMENT

It was time to sacrifice much in the name of the Empire.

Those were the thoughts of General Xiang Zhong as his ships, transport vessels armed with arrays of boarding shuttles, boarding pods, and dropships, approached from the hyperspace route while in transit. The station had been lost near-totally - Project Blackwing zombies loose now and willing to infect the living to spread their carrion-plague across the stars. Many would die today - but if he did not act decisively once they arrived, then the entire galaxy would be swathed in fire. Better to sacrifice the few for the many - for the glory of the Dark Empire rested upon their shoulders. Jedi and Galactic Alliance forces would be tolerated... for now. If only because the alternative was to spread his troops thin with impossible chances. Though he knew he would no doubt need to cull them to ensure none who became freshly infected sneaked upon the returning vessels away.

Besides, the boarding pods, while one-use and sure to damage the station, were preferable to simply blowing the station apart.

As his motley fleet of hastily scrambled Imperial Stormtrooper Marine, SpecNavy Commandos, and whatever else he could scrounge up for space station clearing exited out of hyperspace, the Imperial General contacted his superior officers - voice firm and gritted with a desire to see this through to the end. It was clear that from his helmet-clad face and rank badge that he was determined to ensure nothing made it off the station. Even if he had to go personally go down that and clear the undead - though that was but a foolish notion and risked his chain of command.

"Warlord Sularen, your Imperial Majesty, I am approaching the station now. Troops have been scrambled Sir - we are deploying now."

With that, he turned to his subordinates and spoke - determined to no doubt give words of inspiration before they left.

"Men, you will deploy at once for the glory of his Imperial Majesty - this station will be recovered, and all undead cleared. You have your orders - go and execute, my men. Go, for we die in glory in His name."

For it was time to be...

Once More Unto the Breach.

And with that, the Imperial SpecNavy Commandos, as well as other elite forces he could scrounge up, deployed at once. An array of Tie Brutes as well as HAAGs, dropships, and other boarding shuttles made their way to the hangar. Their goal was simple - exterminate anything flying out of the station that wasn't inspected and cleared. Infected or undead would be exterminated - and any living who had not yet been touched by Blackwing would simply be an unfortunate casualty of war. As they cleared their way into the hangars - TIE Brutes on stand-by as to guard all station points of exit (including the escape pod regions, which he had not ignored), the boarding pods were launched at the same time.

Slamming into the hull of the space station and targeting the escape pod regions, SpecNavy Commandos as well as other elite special forces immediately fanned out - seeking to clear every room within these zones and begin the procedure of securing and fortifying the room. Chemical flamethrowers were brought up to bear from these teams, as well as those SpecNavy Commandos and elite forces deployed via dropships and boarding shuttles to the hangars. It became evident this would be a hard fight - no doubt many of his own men were going to die, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. Secondary orders became clear - recovery of the bioweapon IF possible was denied by him.

There could be no risks, and safer biological agents of warfare existed as opposed to this unnatural plague.

With this, once the hangars were cleared and verified as clear, they would see the dispatch of Imperial Marines to help fortify and lock down the areas, as well as medics to clear and verify any living from those infected. Their standing orders remained clear - euthanize any infected at any costs. He did not care if it was his own men, surviving Imperials, or the Galactic Alliance - the plague would not be allowed to spread. Likewise, the escape pod rooms, once secure, would see immediate fortification and insurance to prevent anything unwanted from getting off the station. If need-be, he'd deploy more men to those regions, but for now, it became clear as communications were working to be established with those survivors within the station that he'd need to exercise patience.

No matter the outcome today, one sovereign thing proved itself evident as a universal maxim.

The Empire always strikes back at those who seek to oppose it.

 

[Kahlil Noble]

More imperials.

Kahlil took a breath as he glanced out the viewport. There was a clear sense of working together, but for so many of the Dark Empire's fleet to show up here after the battle of Tython didn't bode well for the invasion. His gaze settled on the distant door as he tightened his expression. The clawing, the tapping. They were looking for their way in. Ran and Cora had found their way out with whoever was going with them, but that left him with the Padawans and Ame.

On the bridge.

"Once those two are good, we'll start making our way to the hangar. The infected be coming for here, sounds like, so we don't want to remain. Mahsa, Zaiya, you'll stay by me when we move. I can keep them back for a little while longer, hopefully enough for Valery to reach us."

Pal Veda | Corazona von Ascania | Zaiya Ceti | Mahsa | Ran Serys | Joseph Torson | Tibera Jessen | Abraxas Colt | Nulgath Zardai

 

[Nulgath Zardai]

Objective I
Tags: Amelia von Sorenn Joseph Torson Tibera Jessen

Immortuos slowly stirred from the floor, his charred body still reeling from the aftermath of the Jedi's assault. Though the pain no longer registered in the physical sense, his mind burned with the knowledge that his power had been diminished. That he had been diminished. Yet, even in his weakened state, there was a strange clarity. The undead—his former thralls—were still tethered to him in some way. He could sense them, like a swarm of insects buzzing in the back of his mind. The Sickness coursing through their bodies was still tied to him, its twisted essence echoing through the Force. It was still in him. That last binding force that kept him alive.

He felt them out there—dozens, maybe hundreds—lurking in the darkened corridors of the space station, creeping closer. It was like watching from behind a shattered mirror, a fragmented reflection of what he used to command. In his own grasp they were his tools, but now they were a terrifying foe. In his mindseye could see them—faint, distorted images. He couldn't bend their will, but he could track them. That, at least, was an advantage he could use.

An advantage I may be able to prove as well.

As the flickering lights continued to dim and surge, Immortuos pushed himself to his feet, his legs trembling under the weight of his damaged body. Each step was slow, calculated, as he moved toward the bridge's main console. Even before the battle he was not too accustom to walking, being far too reliant on the force as a whole. Where once he glided across surfaces with the power of telekinesis, he not was forced to grovel in the dirt like lesser beings. Thats what these beings around him were to him and now thats what he was as well. He knew the Jedi and Imperials were watching him, their wariness palpable. Yet, in this moment, their survival depended on working together. He could feel their unease, their mistrust, but also their growing realization that the infected were closing in. The time for rivalry had passed.

Without acknowledging the eyes on him, he reached the console that was inconviently next to the jedi Kahlil Noble and the padawans Mahsa and Zaiya Ceti . His burned fingers shaking as they hovered above the interface. His voice, though hoarse and weak, held a trace of his former command. "Mainframe," he rasped, "give me access to the station blueprints—specifically the bridge and adjacent sections."

The screen flickered in response, the terminal taking a few seconds longer than usual to load, as if the very station was faltering under the chaos that had taken over. The schematics began to populate the screen—maps of corridors, ventilation systems, service hatches. His eyes darted over the lines and pathways rapidly as if time was against him and the rest of the bridge. There had to be another way out or another way in, another route either they or the undead could us to advantage. Briefly his gaze shifted over to Ran Serys and the other female Jedi Corazona von Ascania as they departed and Immortuos felt his visage shrink with their departure.

" Cloistered fools. We have better chances as a group."

"They're getting closer," Immortuos muttered under his breath, not addressing anyone in particular, but the tension in his voice cut through the uneasy silence. "I can feel them… every single one of them." His fingers danced across the screen, zooming in on potential access points. A deep sense of unease seemed to surround the once god-like being that was Immortuos. His insults and manner of moving about, were once determined was now frantic and filled with anxiety.

 

[Pal Veda]

On the Space Station — Still!?
Objective I: Survive
Tags: Abraxas Colt Kahlil Noble Ran Serys Amelia von Sorenn Mahsa Corazona von Ascania Zaiya Ceti Nulgath Zardai Joseph Torson Tibera Jessen [I think that’s it?]

”I thank you all for your patience,” Pal said sarcastically, ribbing the techs lined up against the wall in the power control room, “But now it’s time for me to get the hell off this space station.” He popped a toothpick between his teeth and strutted toward the door, twirling his blaster on his trigger finger, showing off a bit now that his job was done. But nothing can ever be that simple.

Before he took more than a few steps, Pal heard the commotion outside. Then the fusion cutters came, white hot plasma cutting through the thick durasteel. No ceiling shafts, no ventilation systems, no secret exits. One way in, one way out, and a squad of Imps were coming his way.

Thinking fast, he moved behind one of the computer terminals, wondering how many blaster bolts it could absorb when the shooting started. But it didn’t matter. When Pal saw the team — several troopers, followed by hulking security droids — he knew the jig was up. He spun the pistol one last time before sliding it into its holster and holding his hands to the sky. This wasn’t one of those “they’ll never take me alive!” situations. This was more of a “let’s see where this goes” scenario.

"I've got you now, Captain Veda," Brax said. He glared at the man through his visor. "You sent me down with Admiral Sularen's ship, but you will not do the same with this station." If the spacer didn't remember him by his armor alone, Brax's threat would certainly jog Pal's memory.

Pal couldn’t believe it. “No Sithin’ way!” he exclaimed, unable to control his reaction. “How . . . I thought you were dead as a dicario! I could’a swore that crazy Padawan blew you to hell!” Shut up! He realized his mouth had just kept running in astonishment that this same Imp from the Predator was actually getting his revenge. ”You gotta tell me your name. It’s only fair, you know who I am.”

But introductions would have to wait. The strangest thing happened. The space station . . . Went into hyperspace? Was the planned? Was that Noble and the other Jedi? Or did the Imps still have control of the bridge after all? Hell, Pal didn’t even know this thing could go into hyperspace. He looked around and noticed the engineers were as surprised as him.

Wait a second. Did I say the strangest thing happened? Because what happened next made the space station hyperspace jump look as normal as a horn on a gundark.

Behind Abraxas Colt and his team came a couple of men in regular security garb. They looked like the two on guard that Pal had stunned on his way in. But different somehow. Their features were distorted, ghastly even. Their movement was jerky, unnatural, unsettling to watch.

”Hey . . . Uhh . . . What’s goin’ on with your men there?” Pal wanted so badly to draw his pistol, but with at least six blasters currently trained on him, he refrained, keeping his hands up for now. “I’ve never seen a stun blast do that to anybody.”

 

[Mahsa]

Location: Bridge Room
Objective: Survive

---

The holographic image flickered in and out as it remained connected to the bridge, the bald figure clearly awaiting an answer that never seemed to arrive. There were still many unknowns to figure out, but she could feel that festering energy rapidly multiplying in unseen parts of the station, accentuated by the unnerving scratching sounds that persisted against the emergency blast doors.

Golden eyes carefully sweep over the others, noticing how each adult is currently preoccupied with bigger worries. She can’t help but feel bad as Marlon Sularen continues to wait—his presence relegated to part of the background perhaps—before her gaze quietly shifts towards the Lovalla at her side.

"U-Uuhm..." She was hesitant to answer, unsure if it was something she should do considering Mahsa was just an itty bitty padawan. Any of the present adults here were better qualified to do so, but the hologram had been waiting for so long already... "T-They’re still all over t-the station…?"

Perhaps not the update he needed, but it was an update nonetheless.

Deep amber and ocher shades cascaded to the tips of her hair as she watched Ran Serys , Corazona von Ascania , and Tibera Jessen break from the group—but not before they’d been given some supplies by the same woman who’d helped Zaiya and herself feel better. She knew Knight Serys and Knight Ascania were very capable, and Tiberia could certainly hold her own considering the damage she’d been able to inflict on the Mirialan, but she still worried regardless of it all.

Kahlil’s words were a heavy dose of reality and what was at stake. They were waiting for them—for her—and the thought was enough to rouse the Kazelrrian back onto shaky legs. "I-I’m okay now…!" A wince crossed her features as she moved, Amelia’s skillful work had done wonders to bring down the pain she’d been under, but Mahsa was certain she could endure the discomfort that still lingered.

She recognized Nulgath Zardai as he shuffled closer to the console that Mahsa was leaning on for some support, his face identical to the one from the visions that clouded her mind when she had passed out. The Force no longer cried around his presence, it had fallen silent around him now, though she could feel lingering traces of the same sickness that seemed determined to find its way into this sealed room.

There was a shakiness to his voice as rapid and jerky movements guided his hands across the interface. There’s something else about him, a resonance that the Kazelrrian can’t explain, but one thing is perfectly clear: he was no longer a threat to any of them.

"Z-Zaiya…!" One of the blueprints caused her to call out for the Lovalla as she points it out from the others, recognizing it as the one Zaiya had extracted when they’d hacked the system shortly after boarding… the second option their strike team had been unable to explore. "C-Could this one still work?"

---

Apparel

Devices

Weapons

【✶】⋆【✶】⋆【✶】

【✶】⋆【✶】⋆【✶】

【✶】⋆【✶】⋆【✶】

Amelia von Sorenn | Kahlil Noble | Zaiya Ceti ​

 

[Max Sinn]

​

OBJ iii - Containment
Theme: The Wild Card
Tags: Marlon Sularen | Vesh’ira’nuruodo | Silas Westgard | Drego Ruus

---

Spoiler

Deadly Sinn - Admiral Sinn
Divinity - Praefect-class Star Destroyer
Dredge - Praefect-class Star Destroyer
x4 Caçadore-Class Assault Corvette

Three Star Destroyers and four corvettes came out of hyperspace at the very edge of basic long-range detection. Then they crept to stand still in space just looming there not moving any closer. The Destroyers were still scarred from the recent battle over Tython but the corvettes with them were fresh. Onboard the Deadly Sinn, Admiral Sinn sat in her command chair and just watched the monitors in front of her.

They had gotten the word from the Imperial Fleets of the new location of the Tython Orbital Station. It was nice of them to share the information with the Tetan Navy, though they had seemed to forget that their alliance was temporary for the defense of Tython to keep the alliance from trying to push closer in on their territory. So, the Tetan's held no obligation to the Empire at this moment until further negotiations were made.

This meant that Max had a choice to make, on one hand further negotiations with the Empire were in the works. On the other hand this station was a contamination threat, that could potential threaten Tetan territories. She had a hard choice to make, and she sat in her chair in deep thought over what the next move was. She had little care for the Empire and even less so for the Alliance. She could just blow the station out of the water to end the threat and be done with it. Though that might hinder negotiations with the Empire that were planned.

Few other factors in that if she did just blow it out of the water, she would then have to contend with both the Alliance and Empire in the aftermath. She should have brought a bigger fleet was her first thought. She then looked to her logistics officer. "How long would it take the reserve fleet to get here?"

"About Ten or Twelve hours given proper checks and astrogation coordinates, Ma'am."

"Then send a message for them to join us here." She then turned to her head of communications. "Open a channel the Empires ships."

The communications officers went to work then signaled to Max when the channel was open.

"This Admiral Sinn of the Tetan First Fleet. We know you have men on that Station, but it is a contamination threat and is too close to our boarders for my liking. I am giving you twelve hours and then we will open fire on the station." With that a countdown clock came up on one of Max's screens.

​

 

[Haliat Kryze]

​

| Location |Tython Station, exterior bay
| Objective | Rescue
| Focus | Find a princess.

​

"The transport is locked down," the assurance sounded through Haliat's helmet radio. "All exterior defenses are engaged, the self-destruct is armed. None of this dread carrion exits by our route. We will wait for you."

Hal nodded in silence, not sparing a glance at the dropship resting off behind them in the exterior cargo bay which had provided their means of ingress. All that was as it should be, and he expected no less.

"Await our authentication phrase. No boarding without it. Hoplon Squad, to work!"

With that, a handful of Hastati and the Mandalorian leading them fanned out. Their mission would be to fortify the bay and keep it clear of the undead. If the numbers made that task untenable, they were at least to slow down the zombie advance with pre-placed explosives long enough for an orderly withdrawal. The ship would blow itself up to avoid capture if necessary, but Haliat would really much prefer to still have a ride waiting to get him out of this dismal place. And that left the force that Haliat would command in person.

Jenn's instructions had reflected the urgency of the situation; they were terse and direct, leaving the task of sorting out the finer details and strategy to him. Muster the vode, muster some Hastati, get to that station and get out again with Corazana von Ascania in tow. Basic instructions combined with an important objective meant broad discretion, and that meant broad authority, which Haliat had made full use of in assembling his extraction team.

Among the full Mandalorians at the service of the house, those most sumptuously attired and equipped, Haliat had selected a group of their heavy commando specialists. The biggest and the strongest, they wore armor which prioritized survivability over mobility, protecting frames which yielded strength over agility. No matter; in these dark and crowded corridors, speed would count for little compared with a sturdy barrier against this infection and the creatures which carried it, and this disparity would only grow when they had a charge of unknown condition among them.

Each of these heavy troopers, save for one, had been ordered to equip a vambrace mounted emitter of the same sort that Haliat himself always used, for they would lead the way, forming a shield wall between the creatures they anticipated in front and the Hastati behind. It was these lighter troops, each armed with a long vibropike and loaded down with grenades, that would do the bulk of the actual killing while the lead elements kept them safe from reprise.

It was this very formation that now took shape behind him as they mustered in the launch bay to begin forcing their path into the station's interior. Heavy troopers in front, Hastati behind, and finally one last heavy commando bringing up the rear with a heavy, shoulder slung repeating blaster. If the formation should find itself under attack from the rear, this firepower should keep their would be killers at bay while the unit reconfigured itself.

That left only Haliat himself and the most capable ranger he could find at a moment's notice. The two of them alone would move independently of the formation, Hal in front and his counterpart somewhere off to the rear, screening their small force and scouting the way ahead.

In short, all was in readiness except for their actual quarry. To this end, Haliat activated the small holo-communicator embedded into the back of his left gauntlet, and keyed in the frequency he'd been given. Time to see if this would prove his shortest undertaking in recent memory.

"Lady Corazana, this is Haliat of House Kryze. Are you receiving this signal?"

| Friendly | Corazona von Ascania
| Hostile | @ ​

 

[Zaiya Ceti]

​

Deep Space
Objective I - Bridge of the Tython Space Station
Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x x x | Weapons: x x x
Allies: Kahlil Noble Mahsa Amelia von Sorenn
Unknowns: Joseph Torson Nulgath Zardai

-

From what Zaiya could tell, Master Noble had done something -- something big -- to shift the entire station. Looking out the wide viewport, all she could see was black space, scattered with distant stars. No more Ashla. No more Bogan. No Tython below.

They weren't in Tython space anymore.

Murmurs from Corazona von Ascania and Ran Serys pulled her attention briefly, as did Mahsa's quiet reassurance that she was alright. Zaiya's skin shimmered in concern, a soft ripple of cool blues and purples, but she knew there was no time for long conversations. Everyone could feel it -- the wrongness that still clung to the station like an invisible scar from the undead they had encountered. Even though the immediate threat had passed, the eerie sensation still lingered, stretching out across the station.

Zaiya swallowed hard, standing up and offering a nod to Amelia von Sorenn .

"Thank you. I appreciate your help," she said quietly, feeling the anti-shock stim working its way through her body, steadying her nerves. Still, something else was gnawing at her mind -- something even more unsettling.

The Sith, Nulgath Zardai . Earlier, his presence had been overwhelming, a suffocating wave of Darkside power that had filled the air with dread. But now? It was like... nothing. As if that immense power had vanished. Instead, what she sensed was something else entirely -- anxiety, worry, maybe even despair. The shift in his aura was so stark that Zaiya felt a pang of sympathy she hadn't expected.

At the edge of her hearing, she heard Kahlil, Ame, Cora, and Ran plan their next steps. Cora, Ran and the injured mercenary Tibera Jessen were going to try to make it to the medbay while Master Kahlil Noble and Ame were going to stay with @Masha and Zaiya. Not far from them were the Imperials, and Zaiya heard the comm message from the Imperial fleet ( Marlon Sularen ) out there. No one had answered yet, but it certainly wasn't Zaiya's place to do so. There were also Imperials, like Joseph Torson that Zaiya vaguely recalled now, the ones who had fought with them in their attempt to block them from reaching the bridge. Did they need medical help too? Zaiya almost took a step forward to offer aid, had she not heard the following:

"Mainframe," he rasped, "give me access to the station blueprints—specifically the bridge and adjacent sections."

Her gaze drifted to Immortuos, curled up by the computer interface, pulling up the station blueprints. The feeling of wrongness that had once radiated from him had dulled, but the tension was still there. Zaiya hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, her curiosity growing with each step. She could hear the strain in his voice, the undercurrent of fear.

At Mahsa's suggestion, Zaiya turned toward the holographic map, its faint blue glow highlighting the pathways and maintenance chutes.

"That could work," she said, nodding, but her eyes shifted back to Immortuos. There was something else she needed to know.

"They're getting closer...I can feel them… every single one of them."

"You can feel them?" she asked, her voice tinged with both concern and curiosity. Her skin rippled with citrine and silver. "How?"

She couldn't sense the Force in him anymore, at least, not like before. So how was he able to feel the undead? There was clearly more to him than met the eye, and if they were going to survive, that knowledge might be their only advantage.

"Would you please help us, then?" Zaiya asked gently, her tone hopeful. "Can you guide us through the maintenance chutes? Show us which areas to avoid?"

 

[Tibera Jessen]

Working alongside Jedi sounded strange, like she'd be better served as a pack mule for the group than a tactical asset. But, fighting corpses would no doubt be easier than fighting saber swingers. Ironic how she was working with the exact same Jedi she'd tried to gut just a few...hours(?) earlier. Probably best not to dwell on how crazy this whole thing was.

"Right, so we push to med-bay and try to secure that area. And try our damnedest not to end up a part of the shambling horde..." Tibera's skin crawled at the thought of getting infected. No way she wanted to become whatever those things were.

She considered the options on which of her weapons to use, probably best not to leave anything to chance. Rather than use her half spent slugthrower, she took a rather large blaster pistol from her hip holster. It was her last resort so to speak, a weapon she only brought out in extreme emergencies. Which, a zombie filled space station probably qualified as!

She opened the top of the weapon and dropped in a fresh gas canister. It glowed a hateful red color before making a high-pitched electronic whine. "These corpses can use blasters and such right? So I guess just plinking them from afar is out of the question... Might as well not let anything to chance." A good disruptor blast should send them back to whatever afterlife they came back from.

Walking alongside Ran should have been anxiety inducing for the Mercenary, but that was the opposite of Tibera's reaction. She found it comforting to have someone skilled walking alongside her. Even as she knew the dead were getting closer. They'd surely make quick work of the shambling corpses in the halls, and be done with this little escapade sooner than later. The only question is...what comes after?

Tags: Ran Serys Zaiya Ceti Kahlil Noble Amelia von Sorenn Mahsa Corazona von Ascania Nulgath Zardai Joseph Torson