Public Almost a World Breaker

[Niysha]

It wasn't hard to find In. She was the only bright spark of brilliant, courageous, athletic, capable, impressively lucky destiny anywhere within a few hundred meters. Niysha didn't even have to direct the Force to her so much as it just kind of... naturally led her there. That made things much easier; all Niysha had to do was run after her at top speed. She slid to a halt at a corridor junction, turned left, and followed her instincts deeper into the ship.

As she passed, the Miraluka noticed a solid dozen things peeling through the halls after the racket. It was hard to tell how bright or dark it was inside the ship, since old ships tended to have odd lighting mechanisms that didn't glow like modern lights did. If it was as dark as In had claimed over the radio, though, then they'd be taking a while to get mobilized. Flesh Raiders weren't much better with poor lighting conditions than Pantorans, to Niysha's understanding.

When she sensed panic and violence and pain up ahead, Niysha picked up the pace. She arrived just in time to see In go down like a dropped toy, with a hammerhead mongrel of a creature standing over her with a full storage locker in its hands. Pure, blazing fury sparked within her, and Niysha rode it forward without resistance. In the same movement as it took her to sprint up to In's defense, she had her lightsaber in her hand, ignited a hellish red. She made two strokes, then deactivated her weapon and put it away.

A second or two later, the locker collapsed into two pieces, separated by symmetrical lines of molten metal. Shortly afterwards the raider dropped as well, a single scorchmark across his chest.

She was on her knees within a hearbeat, hauling In to a sitting position by her shoulders before tapping her cheek with one hand and holding her upright with the other. "In! In! Come on, no sleeping on the job." Her voice was cold panic. In her core, she knew that In was plenty resilient and it'd take more than one swing to put her down, but... it was exactly like her to worry far too much about In Rhan.

In Rhan Tilon Quill Sal Katarn Isur

 

[Tilon Quill]

Force bonds could be tenuous and variable things, rather than all or nothing, but at some level the Force connected everyone and everything. Whatever the degree of connection responsible, Tilon felt — clear and bright — a surge of fury and panic from Nysh beyond anything he'd felt from her before.

The Planechanga's vast hull was still skidding underneath the nose of his shuttle. He was coming up on the muzzle and the wormhole and keeping an eye on that black Star Destroyer now too. He adjusted his commscan to try their roving comms. "In, Nysh, are you alright? Are you alright?"

Would Luke Skywalker have turned around if a friend had crashed during the Death Star run? Come to think of it, hadn't a lot of his friends crashed in that story, and he hadn't turned around? Planets to save and all, but still. Tilon had never thought of it like that before.

In Rhan Niysha

 

[In Rhan]

In cradled her head as Niysha helped her to her feet, managing a weak nod. "Yeah - I'm fine, I'm up." She promised her Miralukan partner as she checked the seal on her gas mask. Intact. Thank Bogan, Niysha might say. The Pantoran woman found her footing and shook the dizziness away with a quiet chuckle. "He - it? Got the drop on me. Wasn't expecting that. Sorry."

As much as her head was spinning, the big thumb-looking fellow looked far worse from the wear. The locker was still glowing where Niysha had sliced it in half. The Flesh Raider's torso was still smouldering for the same reason. She'd seen Niysha and others like her use their lightsabers on walls, doors, and floors so often that it was a little startling to be reminded that they carved up flesh as easily as anything else. Maybe easier. A soft, bewildered expletive might've been appropriate. In couldn't think of one. Instead she put a hand in Niysha's shoulder and bonked their foreheads gently against one another. "Thanks for the save."

In picked up her shield and blaster, tapping a finger to her comm. "We're fine, Tilon. I got caught out." She reported quickly, gesturing for Niysha to follow her deeper into the ship. "Whatever these.... things... are? They seem pretty resistant to your coma gas. Or it's dispersed over too wide an area. Not sure."

She shot the sizzling corpse behind them a reproachful look. "The hell are they even EATING down here?" In questioned dryly. Admittedly, it sounded more like a complaint. "...and why the hell is the floor so sticky?" She followed up without a trace of irony.

 

[Sal Katarn]

"This is Ashin Varanin aboard the Chimaera. I will lay claim to this vessel. Anyone who would contest me, state your case or play your move."

"Who the hell is a-"

Staccato slugthrower fire, screaming Rodians, and a hallway full of blood and half-bit corpses. What a karkfest.

Sal squeezed the trigger and his slugthrower barked again, clipping a Flesh Raider in the noggin' and painting the wall with Flesh Raider colored brains and the like.

He took a breath and kept on runnin', tryin' to talk to the shuttle pilot, who was tryin' to talk to their mother ship. Some kind of big "heard it through the" game that Sal didn't appreciate much, on account of it happening while Flesh Raiders were fixing to make his limbs a nice addition to suppertime stew.

"The hell is Ashin? A Sith? A captain? Look, forget it. How big of a ship are we dealing with." The name seemed vaguely familiar, but another Rodian went down screaming in the close confines of the service corridor. Sal was losing track of how many they could even spare. The kid was still with him. And the Sakiyan. So he guessed the others didn't matter much.

"A Star Destroyer?" Sal swore, they didn't have time for that kind of firepower. Still, he supposed it might be the last sizable ship to pop in given the great big beacon this place was broadcasting to the galaxy. "Alright well, don't shoot at it." Sal cut the line and looked at the giant Karkorodon with the axe.

"Alright, big fella, gonna need a path cleared right through them." Just push straight through until they hit the central command and control. No way to turn back now. No real exit unless they wanted to jump into vac again.

* * *

Over the loud speakers, which apparently the Planechanga had and were still operational, came a high, cold voice,

"Mongrel intruders, your efforts are futile, your galaxy must pay the price for its many sins. The Jewel of Perlemian will burn. It will not be the first."

In front of the Planechanga, the kaleidoscoping realspace swirled beneath the forces causing the formation of a wormhole, to resolve a massive trade station known as Corusca Station, a staple of the Perlemian Trade Route that oversaw an immense flow of goods between planets, including the ever critical trade of tibanna gas.

In Rhan | Niysha | Tilon Quill | Isur

 

[Isur]

Flesh raiders. They were not much more than angry beings. Isur has dealt with his fair share of angry beings. The Karkarodon had no issue fighting these things. And he wasn’t here to make big decisions. He ran, he swung, he fought. A swing of his axe and a rip of clawed hands and he would be bloodying another Flesh Raider’s face and chest. Right along the one that had its brains removed by a slugthrower.

The scent of blood. It was… intoxicating.

Not one that was going to create a rage. He and the related species were known for that. But Isur was a Matukai.

He focused all of that into the body and into the Force. He wasn’t about to start ripping doors open, but he’d push his own body farther, and harder than others would. He was happy about that.

“An Ashin… not knowing this.”

“Path through the Raiders?” He spun the polearm before fixing it to his back. He was a master with that weapon, but a hallway like this? Claws and punches. A growl and he ran forward.

Sal Katarn

 

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

"Ashin who? Yoka to chaa, wermo. Get off my frequency and play bandit queen somewhere else."

Over the loud speakers, which apparently the Planechanga had and were still operational, came a high, cold voice,

"Mongrel intruders, your efforts are futile, your galaxy must pay the price for its many sins. The Jewel of Perlemian will burn. It will not be the first."

In front of the Planechanga, the kaleidoscoping realspace swirled beneath the forces causing the formation of a wormhole, to resolve a massive trade station known as Corusca Station, a staple of the Perlemian Trade Route that oversaw an immense flow of goods between planets, including the ever critical trade of tibanna gas.

Currently, the Perlemian arced out from Galactic Alliance territory and through the long no-man's-land between two new empires. Having conquered her way down the Perlemian in days of yore, Ashin recognized the station at once, maybe would have even if the speaker hadn't named the trade route.

She considered her options - the Chimaera's heavy ion cannons, its tractor beams, its dropships. But this was an opportunity to do more than claim a weapon. It was the kind of moment that, after a century's life, she valued more than anything.

The opportunity to do something she'd never done before.

Oh, she'd conjured hyperspace wormholes many times. She'd learned the art of it as a Sith Lord seven decades back. She remembered Apparatus - or had it been Tirdarius? Valkner? Voracitos before the coup? - talking her out of eradicating Kaas City when Omni's droids burst up from the bedrock to take her capital. She'd used this particular power for exploits and braggadocio and just to see what she could do as she grew stronger. Long before that, she'd betrayed her own master by warping a Force Storm's target location from within a ritual circle and calling it down on herself. But to the best of her recollection she'd never tried to warp a wormhole about which she knew nothing, which might be wholly technological, with which she had no connection.

Ashin got up from her command chair and cracked her neck. "Jaccath, you have the bridge. Defensive action only."

---

The image through that wormhole shifted crazily as if the wormhole was a whip being cracked across fifty thousand light-years to strike blood off skittering potential targets. When it stabilized the target was not Corusca Station anymore. It was...something random.

Anyone seriously Force-attuned in the area would feel an undercurrent of something old, cold, massive, and intensely pleased with itself.

Sal Katarn Niysha

 

[Niysha]

With In standing, Niysha followed shortly. Tilon was still on radio, and he sounded about half as worried as she felt. "She might have a concussion, but she's up and moving. We'll have to check later; I am not a healer in any sense of the word."

The speculation turned to the locals, and Niysha had at least a little in the way of insight. "The things are Flesh Raiders. They're an extremely degenerated strain of a very ancient species. I've seen plenty of their ancestors in the oldest of ruins. I don't know a lot about them, and certainly nothing that would discern whether or not they're resistant to military-grade tranquilizers."

The dozen-or-so creatures from before had increased significantly. Now that she and In weren't alone in this space hulk they'd both be much safer, but the longer they sat in one place, the more dangerous it would inevitably become. For now, they hadn't been collapsed on. For now, they could move forward unimpeded. Hopefully that meant that they'd be able to get to the bridge before-

The image through that wormhole shifted crazily as if the wormhole was a whip being cracked across fifty thousand light-years to strike blood off skittering potential targets. When it stabilized the target was not Corusca Station anymore. It was...something random.

Anyone seriously Force-attuned in the area would feel an undercurrent of something old, cold, massive, and intensely pleased with itself.

The world no longer existed.

In mid-run through gross, sticky corridors, Niysha staggered and fell into a wall, bracing herself against a column within the space hulk. She was... everywhere? Nowhere? Everything was the same, but different enough in ways that she didn't have a way to process. An assault to every sense at once, but especially the one she relied upon the most. She felt sick.

After a few seconds of staggering beneath the swirling, alien pressure of a galaxy that didn't belong where it was, it all got to be too much. With a mighty, sickening heaving sound, she added to the unpleasant fluids on the floor. Fortunately, switching to an organic diet made this absolutely horrible, godawful experience only "miserable" and not "toxic in a sort of lingering way."

It took her more than a bit to regain her composure, center herself, and be where her body was. When she'd recovered properly, Niysha pushed herself off the wall and rubbed her mouth clean. She was sorely tempted to swear. "...Where are we?"

Good Guys: In Rhan Tilon Quill
Grey Guys: Sal Katarn Isur
Personal Grudge: Ashin Cardé Varanin

 

[Tilon Quill]

We're fine, Tilon. I got caught out." She reported quickly, gesturing for Niysha to follow her deeper into the ship. "Whatever these.... things... are? They seem pretty resistant to your coma gas. Or it's dispersed over too wide an area. Not sure."

"She might have a concussion, but she's up and moving. We'll have to check later; I am not a healer in any sense of the word."

The speculation turned to the locals, and Niysha had at least a little in the way of insight. "The things are Flesh Raiders. They're an extremely degenerated strain of a very ancient species. I've seen plenty of their ancestors in the oldest of ruins. I don't know a lot about them, and certainly nothing that would discern whether or not they're resistant to military-grade tranquilizers."

All relief and complicated thought of Flesh Raiders got blotted out by a sensation that threw Tilon back to childhood on Ziost. He clutched his controls and hunched against his flight couch straps and tried not to nosedive into the Planechanga. He felt Nysh's mind echo this distortion in what felt like crisis for a long moment.

The wormhole no longer showed a hapless station. He wasn't sure what to make of that.

Ancient gunfire sent his shuttle spinning. He'd indulged in distraction and the Flesh Raiders had him crosshaired. He snapped off an ion shot or two but that was all, and far too small to put the Planechanga to sleep.

Still on edge, mind elsewhere, he accelerated for the muzzle, hoping he could get a shot in there. It took him farther from his friends, but right now instinct weighed the chance a little higher than their risk.

"I don't like this," he said stupidly. "I don't like any of this."

 

[In Rhan]

In managed to catch her partner before she hit the ground, her blaster skittering down he hallway - abandoned. She held Niysha up, kept things clear as she puked, and wondered at the foreboding sense that'd fallen over her. Something bad was happening, and not just because Niysha had returned breakfast all over her boots. No, something much worse was happening in a way In could barely articulate, and it reminder her of the way some animals were reported to flee earthquakes.

"We're still in the hall, Nysh." In murmured, passing Niysha a canteen as she helped her upright. "Something bad happened out there. Comms chatter is down. I have no clue what's going on."

If anything, though, it galvanized In's resolve that this station needed to die. Whatever it was, whatever it did, and however it got here - nobody should have it. While In was fairly sure that the Planechanga was for shooting rocks at things - BIG rocks - time or flesh raiders or something had made it worse. MUCH worse. Thoroughly haunted, cursed, whatever.

"Hey. Listen at me." In prompted, posited to catch Niysha as she pushed off of the wall. "You good? With me? We need to move, baby. And fast. Every part of me is screaming to get back in the ship and run like hell." She confessed awkwardly. "So let's blow this big changa up and do that. Yeah?"