The Dead of Black Star Station [TSE Dom of Hex AM-18]

[Gavin Ovmar]

The station lights flickered in the corridor. Sounds echoed in the distance but only seemed to punctuate the fact that he was alone in the dim light. Dust and grime coated the deck so thickly that it almost felt like soil beneath his black ICBs. His eyes scanned the corridor as the butt of the rifle pressed deep into the hollow of his shoulder. The weapon's muzzle aimed down as he walked in a combat crouch toward the unknown.

He could smell decay or the stale air, floating like a corrupting fog that tainted everything it touched. The sickening sweet smell of death only grew more potent as he traversed the dead hallway with only boot tracks in the filth to mark his passing. He could hear scratching shuffling steps now. The shambling movements of something beyond his field of vision. Primal sensations filled him as he moved. Eons worth of fight or flight responses warred with his training as he slowed his pace. Adrenaline began to course into his hot blooded veins and suddenly he could feel the wrongness of the things in the now near distance.

This place was death. A hell he was no where near ready to enter, but enter he had, and there was no turning back.

 

[LT-137]

​

Aboard the Station; Designate: Black Star
Lower Decks // Unknown Location.

​

Marking the surface of yet another door with a daub of luminous paint as he had emerged through the retracted portal, Khonsu found himself sighing heavily out of sheer boredom. The man had wanted this room to be filled with the freshly animated corpses of the dead. He wanted something that would cause his pulse to race, and his breath to quicken, forcing his body to adopt a heightened sense of things. But, most of all, despite all of the tedium that had landed on his lap in the calm moments before the storm, the Mercenary wanted a challenge, something that would keep his mind off the terrible fate that had befallen those aboard the station, and those who boarded it afterwards.

The room that he had cleared was filled with corpses, each of which had borne various signs of the infection, but had carbon-scored markings across their skulls - signalling that someone had passed through here - or that they had done each other in before they had lost their humanity. He had settled on the latter, as his search had found a smoking blaster pistol in the clutches of one of the corpses. It was good that they had elected to end their lives in such a manner, not only because they held onto whatever senses they had left, and that there were a few less of the station’s occupants to concern himself with. While others would’ve taken their Ident-tags, the Mercenary left them as they were.

They were nothing to him, and even more so that they took their own lives in the face of adversity.

Cowards, the Thyrsian mouthed as he finished marking the outside of the door. The sight of their sin laid bare for all to see had left a sour taste on his tongue. He needed something more than single-handed clearing one room after another, and the flickering lights above to keep him company. That was when a mysterious voice had echoed through the corridor behind him, causing the Sun Guard to sweep his rifle up towards his shoulder, and point its business end towards the assumed point of origin. The words it spoke were not hostile, nor held any trace of malicious intent. In fact, the truth was quite the opposite, as they were a warning; one that urged him to move along quickly and that there was a large group of undead nearby.

It wasn’t long after that his helmet had registered the transmitted voice, that Khonsu had seen the shadowy figure approach - bathed in the crimson radiance of the emergency lighting. From what he could tell, as his fingers were tightly wrapped around an extinguished plasmatic hilt and his strides were purposeful, that this man was the furthest thing from dead. Truth be told, aside from his partially humanoid appearance, there seemed to be nothing wrong with him at all. Well, save for that his beard seemed to comprise of a betentacled visage that was hastily stuffed into a sealed breathing mask. Releasing a breath that he didn’t realize that he was holding in, the Sun Guard lowered his rifle. The man knew that if this stranger had wanted him dead, he would’ve already done the deed with either his lightsaber or with the powers that symbol in his grasp heralded.

As the gap between them closed, the Mercenary noted something off in the distance. It was the sound of bent and rent metal, which immediately set the Thyrsian on edge. Was this the fairly large group that this stranger had mentioned earlier, or was this something different? No matter what the answer was, it was clear that introductions would have to wait, as the distant sounds of raspy moans and shambling feet had called for action. There would be no time for them to stop and have tea, even if they technically could, as judging by this figure’s darkened panoply that he was a Sith - even such powerful creatures had their limits. Snarling wordlessly in frustration at the trepidation displayed by his newfound companion, Khonsu stalked towards the stranger brushed passed him without a second thought. If the man wanted to leave, and not hold his ground against the coming tide? Then so be it.

The blazing Suns of Thyrsus would see this man wilt under their twinned baleful gaze when his life had come to an end.

However, the Mercenary’s mind cleared as he knelt down in the centre of the grated corridor, and watched as the horde of undead lumbered around the bend. They were fourty paces away, and at the rate, they were moving, it wouldn’t be long until they were overtaken. While his weapons and his companions aetheric mastery would prove to be more than a match for the wall of shambling flesh - Khonsu didn’t have enough plasma cartridges to keep his service weapon firing. Nor did he want to risk using his sidearm at such short range, especially when it was unlikely that they would stop, even as more and more of their flesh was dissolved in the verdant mist. With that being said, there was a way for them to thin out their numbers, and it all came down to timing.

Without hesitation, the Sun Guard withdrew a concussion grenade from his bandolier and began fiddling with the setting. His taloned fingers turned the dials this way and that, as the horde began lumbering closer - their voices getting progressively louder. Others would succumb to their fear, the unseen mind-killer. Others would’ve run for the nearest door and hoped that the horde had lost their scent. This Mercenary wasn’t like the others. He was too damned stubborn to turn tail and run, to subsume his senses to the primal instinct that burned within the breast of every man. He wouldn’t become like those corpses he had found earlier. Where his body would be found by another team, and casually dismissed as they moved on to another room. The fates be damned!

Once the grenade had been primed, and the time delay had been set, Khonsu roused himself from the floor and looked towards his tentacled companion. When he spoke, his words came across his suit’s vocabulator and were weighted heavily by the thick, Thyrsian accent that coated every resonant syllable. “That grenade will trip when they’re on top of it and turn this section of the hallway into a war zone.”

“If you like living, then we need to go. Now!”​

​

[member="Tsisaar Taral"]​

 

[Tryp West]

Objective: Get out of Dodge
With: [member="Jackson Singh"]
Nearby (soon hopefully): [member="Farah"] [member="Adrian Vandiir"]

"OH!"

Tryp pipped down immediately, looking sheepish.

"Jack, I know 'er," she said, pointing at the screen. Hadn't been clear at first, but there was one point where Farah had turned just right toward the security holocam and she'd caught a glimpse through the face of the enviro-suit.

"Farah. Good egg. Dat's 'oo I'd put mah credits on. If'n we git ta 'er, we'll get outta dis place."

There was utter conviction in Tryp, not a doubt. Or, if there were, there wasn't room for them. Not after weeks trapped on the station. Not after everything they'd been through. They were getting out of here. If they could do it without stealing a ship from the Sith Empire, that would be better. Fortunately, recognizing Farah made that possible.

"Come on," she said, her eyes gleaming. "Let's get outta 'ere."

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Zef Halo"] | [member="Sortz"]

"Da feth ya wan' me to do, eh? Ya think I am lounging on mah arse here while ya shootin' ya load out, ol' boi? Get da kark off mah back an' keep shootin." Daro shouted back over his his shoulder, while redoubling his efforts to get that gorram junction box open. Beneath the wrap would be a handful of crystals. Nothing as fancy as the nova crystals or whatever the feth the Outer Rim considered 'money' these days.

No, no.

This was better.

These were memory crystals that held a whole bounty of surveying details on them. Whoever had these crystals, would know exactly where an' what they could mine in this system up 'til the next six systems.

"Feth's sake, I lost count 'cus of da loudmouth." Daro hissed to Sortz. "-was da junction four or six? Five's skipped in these systems, feth me if I know which one it is."

Cursing loudly over his shoulder.

"Ya hear dat, Halo, we gon' die 'ere and I am gun' go haunt ya arse for da rest of ya miserable undead life."

 

[Sortz]

"Six," Sortz responded, more tersely than was her usual inclination. But then, she *was* a little busy.

The Tro'zet stood with her back to Daro where he crouched, between him and Halo. Significantly taller than either of them, it was easy to fire her own blaster (another heavy blaster but damned if it didn't look like a toy in those over sized hands) over and past Halo, picking off shambling figured one by one that somehow managed to avoid the suppression fire being laid down by the other man.

"Miss me with this chit," she muttered under her breath- she couldn't remember where she'd heard it, probably a bar, but she liked it. Her own attention was split between back up on both sides- firepower with Halo and handing equipment to Tarsi. It was.... not a good place to be. For any of them.

"Got it!"

"Good because we need to move," Sortz said with a grimace, not taking her eyes off of the encroaching hoard. Really they just kept coming. Another two minutes, max and their location would be drowning in a sea of.... whatever the hell these were.

Sortz prepared to take over for Halo so he could fall back with Tarsi.

[member="Zef Halo"] [member="Daro Tarsi"]

 

[Farah]

Post: #4
Objective: Clash of the Nerds
In area: [member="Adrian Vandiir"], second best nerd
Somewhere else: [member="Tryp West"], [member="Jackson Singh"]

The aide reacted quickly, blaster raised to defend them from the approaching threat. Though the station was now swarming with Sith, so far they’d only run into the shambling undead. The Sith he’d been assigned to didn’t seem as keen on fighting them as she was on studying them.

So when the sentient envirosuit spoke, calling out to them, he lowered his weapon and glanced back to Farah for her response.

The Zeltron was currently elbow deep in cadaver, plasma scalpel carving out every organ she could and placing them into containers for safe keeping. This really was the sort of thing she should be doing in a lab or someplace where there wasn’t active fighting, but oh well.

“You want to make yourself useful,” She called out to the approaching Sith, tiny precision blade cauterizing just below the aortic arch, “Bring me more of these.” Her chin jerked towards the corpse. “Or go and get yourself infected.”

Would they be testing whatever this was out once they isolated it? Of course. And to do that, you needed organic subjects. Though this wasn’t the ideal controlled environment, it didn’t matter much to her.

 

[Six-O]

LOCATION: Black Star Station - Tower Cresh
OBJECTIVE: Investigate | Board the Connection Bridge
ALLIES: TSE | Adelric | Sebestev | Belphaegor
POST: 2


It would have been strange for an Organic, no doubt, such a noiseless cacophony of silence. Each stride YVHa-60 took, robust with strength, thudded soundlessly against the hull of the Connection Bridge roof. The Droid had been deposited there a short time prior, before the Boarding Vessel that carried Taskforce Rancor went to circle Tower Cresh. A large, magnetic, breaching assembly occupied much of the Droid's direct focus as it paced effortlessly towards the center of the Bridge that spanned the massive gap between the Tower and the center Structural Depot of Black Star Station. With much of the Breaching Rig loosely coiled around it's chassis, mutely clanking against it's metal body.

With tireless persistence the Droid worked, locking down Magnetic Seal Clamps, sealing in the Plasma Detonation Cord with Thermal Gel before safely hiding the tendon under a Blast Plate Fixture. Everything tacked in, fastened down and bolted up in accordance with Sith Demolition and Breaching Protocol KN-0086.25. It wasn't exactly how Six-O would have done it, but it was a Slave to details, and since [member="Matsu Xiangu"] had already informed the Droid that the Credit's cleared. The Machine was helpless in following the Orders it'd been given.

Seemed no matter what was found inside Black Star, The Sith Empire had every intention of salvaging this place. So while the Machine would have came in with a higher yield, more rapid type of aperture to enter this section of the Station, here they were, utilizing a much more forgiving method of entry.

Transmitting the ready signal, from inside of the Rig that it had just secured, YVHa-60 guided the Ship in above it. The Pilot relying on an array of cameras and hand signals from the Droid as it lowered down the Connection Sheathe and hovered above.

Slowly.

Slowly. .

With minor adjustments that were almost imperceptible to the untrained eye, Six-O governed the approach of the Boarding Umbilical all the way down to the Breaching Fixture. When it was all perfectly cinched in, the Pilot locked the controls to match the movement of the Station, and the Droid emerged from below in to the Disembark Cabin.

"Droid's preppin' up the final Entry Procedure, be mindful of the jolt. . " Warned the Pilot.

Not a moment after the Plasma Cord went hot, bringing the hull of the Connection Bridge to an almost instantaneous boil before a perfect ring of dense steel fell inward with a dejected sort of cry. The sudden stab in to the interior of the Station rocked Taskforce Rancor's ship riotously as the Disembark Cabin and Boarding Umbilical were hastily pressurized to an equal, native measure, to match the internal atmosphere of Black Star.

"Got all Greens on the Console, the DC is good for entry. Be safe in there, Rancor. "

 

[AMCO]

Post Number 3
Objective: Prove that Sith science is the best science.
Nearby: [member="Farah"], mundane nerd.
Nearby-ish: [member='Tryp West'], [member='Jackson Singh']

Adrian would have raised his eyebrows at the nervous plebeian, but his facemask was unfortunately opaque. Oh well. The Sith was far more important anyway and she seemed to be occupied with the removal of a corpse's, well, everything. Apparently. Good. Very good. Not the "kill all the specimens before Adrian gets a chance to examine them" Sith then.

He considered for a moment whether he wanted to reply with a snide remark or not: After all, he didn't appreciate being told what to do. Nevertheless, he could appreciate that she seemed to be doing science, if only the mundane sort. Someone needed to do that too, he supposed.

Stretching his hand backwards, he reached out with his will, dragging the still-intact cadavre from his previous encounter to them. It took a short while, of course, as he had walked some distance, but eventually the body was deposited a short distance from the crouching Zeltron. Would it have been easier to walk over and drag it with him as he walked back? Probably. Would it have been as satisfying? Not in the least.

"There. Happy? Now, if you'll excuse me, I have need of some live specimens for my own science." In his eyes, live specimens were always better. Vivisections over disections any day. Not only was it more fun, it also provided a more accurate representation of the being in question, especially if the being was spawned through the use the great arts of the Sith. He really hoped that was the case, as he really didn't know too much about boring old mundane diseases.

 

[Darth Bellum]

Kor Vexen

---

---

Aboard the Black Star Station
Purge the infection

There was simply a trail of smoldering and still glowing corpses left in the Sith Knight's wake, bisected corpses of zombies strewn about the floor in all manner of poses, none of which would be causing any more harm again. The Sith Knight had nothing to fear amongst these beasts, they were no more of a threat to him than the undead hordes on Mirial, though at least those creatures understood the presence of those strong in the Dark side and left them be. Vexen continued to wander through the dark corridors, the faint sounds of blaster fire and screeching echoing across the station to what he could only assume were the others that had boarded this station in an effort to contain and sterilize it. He too paid them no quarter, for if they were to succumb to infection aboard this station then they were weak, and the weak begets no regret.

A loud series of blood-curdling screeches could be heard in the dark, presumably the undead having been drawn to the glow of Vexen's crimson saber; their doom. A trio of zombies would come sprinting at him as fast as their shambling mangled corpses could muster, a single lateral sweep of Vexen's saber decapitating them as soon as they came within his reach. Heads rolled as more zombies came to rush at him. Vicious swings would swipe out, swatting their corpses left and right, leaving them in pieces as one zombie had leaped into the air in an attempt to jump on Vexen. The Sith Knight raised an armored hand up as an unseen wave reached out, gripping the zombie as it flew towards his open grip. The zombie's neck would be trapped in the armored grasp of Vexen, clawing at his silver armor but having no impact against it. How he could feel the dead's gnawing hunger in his grip as it struggled with such primal desires.

It reminded the Anzat Sith of his origins. He at one point was no different than these beasts that wandered the depths of the station, seeking their next meal to sate a hunger that could never be sated. But he had overcome that hunger and as a result, he became stronger. The Sith tightened his grip as it immediately snapped the zombie's neck, caving it in like a soft fruit. He tossed the very dead corpse to the ground as he continued on, wanton slaughter in his wake and still a trail of smoldering and mutilated bodies behind him.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

"On the right!"

The thump-thump-thump of blaster ripped the first undead body apart, but as one fell, two more came. Then another four, then another six, eight, twelve- The whole corridor suddenly became a pit of lumbering bodies. Some of them dressed in civilian dress, some in guard uniform, some even in blood-spattered legionarie armour. Some carried weapons, but dragged them behind or leaned it on their shoulders rather than point the barrel at the squad.

"Form rank!" "You three, to the rear, form up." "Sergeant, get the second squad on line. Flank them!" "Keep our rear steady boys, eyes peeled"

A two-tier firing line formed up to face the zombies while two legionaries kept watch on the rear. The sergeant sent a message to the second squad, warning them about the mass up ahead and asking for assistance in a flanking manoeuvre, then joined the men on the rear to secure their back in case they were forced to retreat. Sole unhooked a pair of grenades from his side and kept them in his hand, but didn't throw them just yet. Joycelyn drew her sword and pointed it at the undead horde. It was less of an offensive move than it was an encouragement to her soldiers.

While holding the blade aloft, flame licking up its edge, she fired shots from the Minos, splattering undead matter back with the explosive beam weapon.

The horde came closer and closer- simple numbers slowly overwhelming the fire as corpse crawled over corpse.

"Fall back!"

click-click - Sole threw the two grenades as the legionaries fell back to the next turn. The sergeant and his two men had secured the rear of it and set a marker for them to stop at. As the undead rumbled through the fire and smoke in the wake of the twin grenade blast, they were met with a renewed wall of plasma. "Hold them there!" A thunderous explosion from further back tore the main body of the undead horde in two as a new vector of blasterfire was established. As Joycelyn's forward troop fell back, they had now trapped the undead horde in a state of crossfire.

Bodies were torn asunder as they had nowhere to flee.

 

[Delaney Wilder]

Objective: Get out of Dodge
With: [member="Tryp West"]

Nearby (soon hopefully): [member="Farah"] [member="Adrian Vandiir"]

Jack quieted down to let her finish and then studied the monitor again.

She sounded and felt utterly convinced. That was honestly enough for him, but that didn't stop him from being cautious. How couldn't he be after everything they had been put through on this forsaken station? "Alright, but wait a moment-" He touched her shoulder to focus back on him rather than the excitement. "She ain't the only one there, she with others an' who knows what happens when we suddenly come rushing in outta nowhere."

His index finger indicated towards the monitor.

"We rigged dem wiring a few weeks ago, remember? Announce to her we here, while I get some stuff."

The last thing Jackson was interested in was surviving this long and then suddenly being shot in the head by one of those Sith troopers. Part of him wouldn't even be able to blame them.

This entire crap was shet.

 

[Shade of Decay]

To say that Tsisaar was somewhat surprised when the much larger man growled and walked past him - in the direction of the large group of zombies, no less - would be an understatement. Thankfully, the man rather quickly showed a bit more sense than it had looked like he was about to use in the first place, priming a trap rather than trying to just hold position and unload on the large group, which had likely gotten larger while they were fighting to break through the door. His words, however, fell on somewhat deaf ears, for just a moment; Tsisaar had a different idea than simply running, now that he had something a little more useful to fight with.

He lashed out with the Force, a wave of energy knocking over the first couple rows of zombies, tripping the ones behind; almost unnoticed, it threw the grenade into the middle of the group that continued to fall on it. In the few moments he had left before the blast, Tsisaar sprinted to catch up to where the Thyrsian had retreated to; with a muffled thump behind him thanks to the bodies that had fallen atop it, the grenade blew, turning quite a few of the decomposing-yet-ambulatory corpses into nothing more than a blackish-red splatter on the walls, which themselves bowed outward significantly under the blast. As the remaining zombies - Tsisaar counted about fifteen - started to stand up and come out of their daze, the metal groaned, walls and ceiling collapsing inward and crushing what few remained. "Smart choice," he said to the Sun Guard, looking up in the hole in the ceiling.

Thankfully - rather than dropping any more undead upon them - it opened into what looked like a repair corridor, designed only for droid access. Not likely to be any zombies in there. A rotten moan diverted his attention, and he turned to look at the upper half of one of the zombies, stripped from its legs by the ceiling, trying to crawl towards them. A quick slash with his lightsaber rendered it a simple corpse once more. "Unfortunately, we're still going to have to move quickly - if that noise didn't alert half of the undead on this entire level of the station, then I'm a Zambrano's uncle." His betentacled visage made it quite obvious that he was in no way related to the Zambrano family. "I'd rather not wait for them to siege us. Care for a hunting partner?"

[member="Khonsu Amon"]

 

[Lief]

Fascinating. Simply fascinating.

The room he presently occupied was filled with a distinct stench of death. Corpses already way into a stage of deterioration lay here and there somewhat haphazardly, no doubt where they fell. There was too much chaos and madness in the vicinity to make their placement intentional... At least without looking at the bigger picture.

He had been careful not to directly touch anything, or more... The bloated bodies which looked about ready to burst. The odd tap with his boot to get one out of his direct path, brief yet precise pulses through the Force to move the particularly disgusting ones. He might have gone so far as to wear a rebreather had he realized just how much toxicity seemed to permeate the air around these particular dead things, and had he been a different man he might have worn one irregardless.

But death was nothing new to him.

The console at his side beeped in static tone, claiming much of Kobe's attention in the moments which followed as he began to process the readouts. He didn't get more than a couple of lines in before the ground beneath him shook, splitting the already bursting corpses near his feet. Viscera splattered over many of the nearby surfaces, and were it not for the hand he'd raised just beforehand he had no doubt some might have found his face.

Shaking off the ruddy substance from his hand, and doing his best not to breathe in the scent of it, he turned his sights toward the direction of the explosion and proceeded to slowly, methodically clean off his hands. He shrugged out of his outer shirt, grateful that he had bothered to wear another layer beneath, and found that the worst of it was removed in that instance.

But just because the shockwave was over didn't mean that the damage it had caused was. The skittering of feet resounded all around him, in rooms which ran parallel to the one he was currently stood within. It seemed as though they were headed his way, and he didn't much want to be there when they descended upon the small data station which had thus far been a dead zone.

A small door lay off to one side, the sign hinting that it was off limits for organic personnel. Hopefully that meant there'd be nothing inside to further mess with his plans.

Pulling his datapad from the station, knowing full well that most of the data would be corrupted because of how he'd chosen to do so, he extended his reach through the Force and pulled the access door open. Inside was what could only have been a maintenance passage, a tight fit yet what choice did he have?

[member="Tsisaar Taral"] [member="Khonsu Amon"]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

LOCATION: Black Star Station - Tower Cresh
OBJECTIVE: Whelp.
ALLIES: [member="Six-O"] | Sebestev | Belphaegor
POST: 2

If he were being completely truthful, the idea of this station - floating, silent, dead in space - was just about everything he hated when it came to the idea of space travel. Maenans had no more a fear of flying than any other person who might never leave their homeworld, nothing like the Heralds especially. But Aeldric...it made his skin crawl. He wouldn’t let it stop him from doing his duty, but there wasn’t a moment in space that he wasn’t desperately uncomfortable.

Working kept his mind off it.

He’d need it, crossing the connection from small ship to much larger station - silent, dead station with a replayed warning speaking in to a soulless void.

Shoulders squared, he moved in step with Sebestev, acolytes and Father’s apprentices filing behind them in anticipatory silence. The message had put everyone on edge.

And yet the corridor they found was without surprises. It was the same decaying stretch of silence that the comms had been up until they’d been close enough to find the signal, something stale and decrepit in the air. There wasn’t a single person to be found, not even a corpse - as Aeldric had suspected might greet them. Nothing on the ground, nothing on the walls. Just a hallway lit dimly by emergency lights.

The rest of the group filed in slowly behind him and Sebestev, some of them starting to murmur among themselves while waiting for orders when--

Something like thunder came from the right, from behind the metal door about twenty yards off. Closer, closer, closer, and eventually it broke against the door. Someone was screaming - two someone’s, men, one in pain and the other in defiance.

“Kark you, kark you! Have this!”

“Steady…” Dalinar breathed, both to himself and the students behind him. He could feel Sebestev readying himself beside him.

And then something behind the door exploded, sending smoke and sparks in to the corridor they were standing in and blasting the bottom half of the door to pieces. A bright shock of blood and body parts bloomed red along the gray hallway floor and at first it seemed as if nothing was moving. But after the initial shock of the blast, a wave of…

Oh…

The Last Fathers knew these well. They’d fought something similar while still warring with the Haruspex.

The tide of the undead gathered itself, rolling over their dismantled brethren and the poor sods who’d blown themselves up in a last bid, to come for the two Fathers and their students. They weren’t frightened of the sword in Sebestev’s hand, nor the sudden bright blue beam that rattled in Aedelric’s.

This hallway was narrow, maybe four men across. Not favorable. It was about to get messy.

“Steady!”

The creatures started sprinting, shrieking from rotten throats, outstretched arms ready to claw out eyes and tongues and guts.

Aeldric had only ever done one thing besides work until chosen weapons were merely an extension of him. He’d gotten very, very good with telekinesis. To him it was a manipulation of the air rather than something that came from him. Compressing it and tossing it outwards, it was more like an enormous scythe - a cut rather than a blow - as it barreled towards the front line of zombies and severed them at the knee. They fell, tripping up the undead behind them. But it was just buying time.

 

[Zef Halo]

Zef grumbled underneath his breath at every sentence Daro replied to him before the door snap hissed open.

"Fethin' finally." The scoundrel quickly left his position and hastened towards Tarsi to take point while using the cover provided by Sortz. Where the hell had Tarsi found her remained beyond him but she seemed to be useful. If anything, she was fethin large and scary and definitely could handle a heavy blaster rifle better than good ol' Zef here.

But before they could be swimming in some cash they had to escape this cursed place and as if the Galaxy wanted to make it harder for them the choke point broke and Sortz's position overrun.

The smuggler kept on mauling down the waves of living dead but he wasn't really helping the big green lady's situation.

"Tarsi, do something for feth's sake!!" He yelled out. "Or your big friend's toast."

Certainly her physical power could help her a lot, but the waves of walking dead were endlessly pouring out of the torn choke point.

Meanwhile, a shatterpoint in the steel wall where they were was slowly giving in to the tension, sooner rather than later it might break into a hole that would suck the air out of their position and definitely kill them.

[member="Daro Tarsi"] | [member="Sortz"]​

 

[Farah]

Post: #5
Objective: Clash of the Nerds
In area: [member="Adrian Vandiir"], worst nerd
Somewhere else: [member="Tryp West"], [member="Jackson Singh"]

The appearance of a second corpse this…quickly had not been expected. Nor did she imagine that he’d force-drag an already dead body to her. Did he just have cadavers on stockpile ready to go? In any case, it looked minimally damaged which meant that he wasn’t just hacking and slashing his way through potential specimens.

“And how do you plan to do that?” She snorted, inching her way through the new corpse’s skull with her knife. Careful now, careful. It would do no good to damage the brain tissue, even if the patient wasn’t exactly alive. Though a trained surgeon, craniotomies were not Farah’s specialty.

The Zeltron arched a brow as she eased the skull cap of, the act making an almost comical pop sound.

“Slap a pair of stun cuffs onto them and tell them to come quietly?”

Small lesions dotted what appeared to be an otherwise normal humanoid brain. Farah hummed shortly in appreciation before carefully placing the organ in a container of transparent blue liquid.

“Or will you carve them up right here?”

She looked down at the pair of corpses almost fondly.

 

[AMCO]

Post Number 4
Objective: Prove that Sith science is the best science.
Nearby: [member="Farah"], second smartest nerd.
Nearby-ish: [member='Tryp West'], [member='Jackson Singh']

She sounded like she doubted him. How rude. It's not like he was the one cutting up a corpse like an amateur instead of using more sophisticated means. The Zeltron, he could see that much through her facemask, seemed to prefer a scalpel over the endless potential of the force. Odd. Then again, it's not like he was well versed enough in precision applications of the force to cut like a scalpel with it, but he firmly believed that that was just because he hadn't practiced such techniques.

Scoffing at her comment about stun cuffs, he responded in a mildly condescending tone, "Through the Force, of course. I'm currently thinking I'll do it by crushing the bones in their legs and arms, though I haven't for sure decided yet. It's not like they seem as fragile as non-zombified civilians, so that should be fine."

Deciding that he wasn't in that much of a hurry as the zombies seemed to be plentiful enough, he casually leaned sideways against the wall, so that he could watch the young woman while they spoke.

Carve them up? Why in the Nine Hells of Corellia would he do that? "Now why would I need to do that? I'm hoping this is caused by some sort of discreet Necromancy, and I won't get anywhere closer to finding out the truth by cutting into some rotting cadaver." Smiling smugly, though she certainly couldn't see it through his opaque facemask, he continued.

"While I can certainly admire an urge to learn more, I'm willing to bet that whatever method you have in mind is far from comparable in its efficiency and depth to the application of good, reliable, Sith science."

 

[Tryp West]

Objective: Get the Feth out of Dodge
Allies: [member="Jackson Singh"] [member="Farah"] [member="Adrian Vandiir"]

Tryp would have forgotten about that completely if he hadn't brought it up- which bugged her but she'd worry about it later. Really, they'd been weeks without enough rest or food, dodging literal death daily. It wasn't a surprise that she was starting to get fried and fuzzy around the edges. Really, the fact that they'd made it this long was a matter of luck. They both knew it. Things had been too close, too often.

Fiddling with their jury rigged box, Tryp patched into the comms system while Jack got them packed up.

"'Eh Farah."

Tryp's voice came from the intercom across the room from the suited doctor. Proooooobably not what she was expecting.

"Yer not gonna believe dis, but boy am I glad ta see you. Sight fer sore eyes, ya are. Any chance a 'elping a gurl an 'er friend get da fark offa dis station? Not gonna lie, it's been a pretty rough coupla a weeks, I'll tell you what."

 

[Darth Bellum]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y1HLZoQVnhc​

Kor Vexen

---

---

Aboard the Black Star Station
Purge the infection

There was an eerie silence that occupied the halls of the station. There was no longer screams or screeches of the dying or dead, just silence that was soon replaced by the methodical armored steps of the Sith Knight. Vexen would look at his internal HUD, gauging his surroundings as well as keeping an eye on his oxygen levels as he roamed through the halls, his crimson saber casting a sinister red glow against the walls its low hum making the unnerving silence still that much more unnerving. His armored boots clicked at a slow and steady pace as he felt an odd presence near him, like it was trapped between the veil of life and death, and through mouths unseen, reached out and called to him through the darkness.

The dull walls would continue to reflect the red glow of Vexen's saber, though after a short bit of travel the atmosphere seemed to shift. A quiet drip was heard in the distance, slow and methodical like a metronome as Vexen approached closer to the source. With his saber raised he would light the darkness, and in doing so, revealed the source of that quiet dripping noise. A corpse, mangled and mutilated far beyond what even the infection could reanimate hung from loose cables that had spilled out of the ceiling like intestines, blood dripping down into a pool that had formed beneath its feet and a trail of bloody steps leading elsewhere.

Vexen's gaze would follow the bloodied footprints as he slowly followed their direction, his blade illuminating a wall not to far away as he looked up with interest; written in crimson blood, painted all over the wall Sleep spares them pain...awake and they suffer. The blood all over the wall seemed to interest Vexen, perhaps the horror of such a mutilated corpse was whoever was responsible's way of granting someone peace from pain. Regardless, it allowed Vexen to lock onto the peculiar presence he had been trying to follow as he continued on his way. A curious whispering was heard in the dark, a voice that just droned on and on a single phrase like a nervous tick; Rap tap tap...Rap tap tap...Rap tap tap...

The crimson light of Vexen's saber would reveal a figure huddled in the corner, feet tapping nervously as they muttered to himself, over and over again, their hair a mess and covering their features, blood staining their skin and clothes. They seemed unaware of Vexen's presence as he approached, and it was until Vexen was a mere few feet away did they look up, eyes glazed over as their lips were trembling, muttering under hushed tones Please...Spare me...Spare me from this nightmare...SPARE ME!. With a scream the man who was delirious and infected but not entirely, threw himself at Vexen like a wild beast. Vexen would switch off his lightsaber as he grabbed the man by the face while he was in the air and lifted his malnourished looking form off the ground.

While Vexen was intent on purging the infection from the station, perhaps a live specimen who had not been fully consumed by the infestation would benefit some of the scientists within the Sith Empire, perhaps even develop a new strain for biochemical warfare to terrorize their enemies with. With the screaming and struggling figure in his grasp, Vexen dragged him through the dark, back the way he had come to prep for his immediate departure from the station to a containment ship on standby.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Zef Halo"] | [member="Sortz"]

"What?" He hissed back as he finished pulling out the crystals an' shoving them -- gently as possible -- in the duffle bag lined with protective material. They might take him, might take Zef an' Sortz, but they sure as hell weren't taking these memory crystals.

"Feth ya wan' me to do, I ain't no karking magician-"

Daro was about to say more, but he realized the situation was dire and that caused him to get serious. The kind of serious that Zef never really liked to see in Daro, because it usually meant a Hutt was about to be burned to a stake, while Daro watched. "Feth me." Sortz was being pushed back but already he saw her gettin' stubborn about things. Miss him with this chit. His servodriver got pulled out of his tool-belt and he stepped past Halo, warding off grabby hands to dash it against the adjacent wall.

Not a hard dash.

But enough for the vibration it suddenly emitted to transfer straight into the metal and be directed into the wall.

This fed in-depth information back into his eye.

It gave him rapid detail about a broken junction currently only being held together by an ion buffer that hadn't seen maintenance in about six months now. That was basically perfect. "Sortz, I swear on Zef's virginity, jump back if ya wanna live." Once she did, his cybernetic arm wrapped itself around her shoulder and yanked her back with a force that had nothing to do with his body. The manhandling must have been new for the young lady with most of her life spend being careful around others.

Daro didn't give a feth.

He had a hangover and had to deal with one companion that seemed suicidal, the other being practically useless. His 'driver dashed against the wall again and just as the zombies surged the faulty junction overloaded, causing plasma to erupt into the horde causing mayhem and death in its wake.

Presumably it was a cool sight.

But they wouldn't know cus Daro was already retreating and running for his life, cus those same scans told him that they had about thirty seconds, before that junction eruption would cause a hull breach just where Zef had noticed a fault-line.

Once they got through another bulk-door Daro sealed it up an' then collapsed against it.

Breathing heavily.

"Feth. me. Never." He coughed loudly. "-again. Are you crazy??" Daro proclaimed to Sortz. "I need ya alive girl. I already carry around a dead man with me." Clearly talking about Zef there.