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

[Delaney Wilder]

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

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

"Friend, eh? Thought we was married." He teased her over his shoulder- Jack was a go-with-the-flow type of guy.... well, not really, but the Zeltron blood in him felt the change shifting in their favor. It made him pleased and giddy, to finally get out of here and back into safety. It made his hands shake just a bit, the shiver running up an' down his spine. Because the truth was a dark thing, indeed, an' right now the truth was that Jackson had made his peace that he'd die here.

This chance suddenly lurking before them?

It didn't make him suspicious, no.

Why? Either they were dead now (if this turned sideways) or they'd stall it out a bit longer as they had. Result's the same and then some. Shutting the bag shut and slinging it over his shoulder, Jack passed over Tryp's bag to her, before holstering his blaster.

Not being afraid of death ain't the same as inviting it eh?

"Sec- gotta do something." Just as she turned around to question him, Jack had already pulled her in to kiss her deeply. "For t'good luck, luv."

 

[Farah]

Post: #6
Objective: Clash of the Nerds
In area: [member="Adrian Vandiir"] boutta get clapped
In the walls: [member="Tryp West"], [member="Jackson Singh"]

Farah’s line of sight remained on the cadavers, eyes tracing the dark lines of burnt flesh she’d cauterized while carving them up. The Zeltron typically ignored any jeers that came her way unless they were from someone of equal technical acumen. A fellow surgeon issuing a challenge, perhaps. And while she always admired others of scientific curiosity, she had little respect for big talk unaccompanied by action or results.

“And disrupt the vessels in the extremities? They’d bleed out before you had the chance to examine them properly. I hope you like draining hematomas.”

With a feather’s touch she ran a gloved finger along the spine of the zombie who’d had the impromptu brain removal. “Sever something in the cervical region.” She placed two fingers on the vertebrae near the neck. “The higher you disrupt, the less movement they’ll have.”

Rising to her full height, noticing that the young man was quite a bit taller than her. In the Zambrano household, everybody was at least a head or six taller than her.

“You’re wasting your own time running your mouth. Brag to me when you have something interesting to tell.”

She took a step past him toward the docking bay when a voice with an unmistakable accent emanated from the walls. Farah paused, head swiveling to track the source of the sound towards the comm on the far wall.

“Tryp?” There was an incredulous note to her voice. “You’re here? You’ve been here for how long?” She shook her head. Tryp West was a nice lady. A bit too cheery for Farah’s taste, but she was genuine and good at what she did.

“Where are you?” And more importantly, “Have you come into contact with the infected?”

 

[Sortz]

Things went down hill fast.

She'd been expecting as soon as they got what they had come for that they'd be running, but that wasn't an option immediately. As soon as Halo fell back, the dead swarmed and it was all Sortz could do to keep them at bay. At some point her focus narrowed, just the corridor in front of her, waiting until she got the all clear from behind to fall the feth back.

But, it wasn't coming. With a grunt, she swung the butt of the blaster around, kicking something that went crunchsplat to give herself some breathing room. She tried not to think about it too much.

Daro's voice broke through and she back peddled furiously, firing over and over again as the dead surged forward. Of course, she hadn't expected him to physically grab her- and certainly not with the kind of force. Her eyes widened in surprise as she was yanked back through the door, ending up on her rear end but only for a moment before she was scrambling up again, in hot pursuit of Daro and Halo.

She slammed the heavy bulk head door closed behind them, panting (wondering if she should start jogging), when Daro rounded on her.

For an over two meter tall stack of walking muscle, Sortz shrank a surprisingly amount beneath the tone in his voice.

"You two weren't moving," she said quietly, particularly for such a big person, her voice was positively small. Blue eyes glanced over to Zef as if for help.

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

 

[Tryp West]

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

Moving her face away from the comm, she smirked at him over her shoulder.

"'Friends' was easier ta explain den 'we married each other cause we said we did, an' it counts, if'n ya disagree, fite meh,'" she tossed at him. There was a lilt in her voice that had been gone the last week in particular. The night he'd almost died- the night he'd proposed- the night they'd married, as far as it mattered to her. They'd done that, but there had been the weight that this was as real as this was going to get. That whatever they snatched together well.... it was just staving off the inevitable.

Tryp almost giggled when Farah's voice came back, a flush of giddiness coming over her.

"Since da station went down," she replied. "Dunno 'ow long dat's been ta be honest. Lost count aftah da first week. We're not far from ya. And it was kinda 'ard ta survive wit'out being in contact, if'n ya know what I mean," she paused and then- "neither a us got bit or scratched doh, so we're clean. T'ain't airborne. Least, seems unlikely cause we'd be toast by now if'n it was. So, dat's a yes on da ride? I'll tell ya aaaaaaalllllll 'bout it if ya agree."

Once she got confirmation, she resisted the urge to whoop in triumph. Confirming their route, she checked out with Farah before turning around- meeting his kiss full, her arms going around his neck.

"We're gittin' outta 'ere, Jack," she whispered, forehead tilting against his for an instant.

"Come on. Let's blow this scene."

It wasn't a clear shot from there to where Farah was. But Tryp wasn't going to let a little thing like zombies stop them now.

 

[AMCO]

Post Number 5
Objective: Prove that Sith science is the best science.
Nearby: [member='Farah'], seriously overrated.
Nearby-ish: [member='Tryp West'], [member='Jackson Singh']

While his gaze remained on the pink face of his fellow Sith, his other senses ventured forth, reaching slowly outward in an ever-expanding circle, like the tentacles of a giant octopus looking for its next meal.

The spine, huh? Not a bad idea, he supposed. Still, there was something she hadn't thought off. "And what makes you think they need blood? What I have seen has been blackened and aged. Well on its way too fully coagulate. Not to mention the rest of the body decaying as well. No, I find it more likely that something else is keeping them going. For that reason, the mere act of exsanguinating a specimen and seeing if it perishes or not has the potential to be most informative indeed." Besides, at this rate, the only thing that would keep them from toppling over in a month or two, maybe less, would almost have to be more than mundane.

Seemingly finished with the corpse, she rose to face him. He observed that she was noticeably shorter than him, even with him being leaned against the wall, though that wasn't particularly unusual. He was about to respond to her unfounded rudeness when a heavily accented voice suddenly rang forth from the intercom on the other end of the room, distracting the Zeltron from their current conversation. Oh well, he could tell he wasn't going to persuade her with mere words anyway. He would be sure to point out her mistake when he found proof of his force-induced zombification hypothesis though. That ought to show her.

 

[Zef Halo]

Panting with Hands on his knees and leaning on the wall, Zef had arrived first away from the mess behind the now sealed doors. All of them barely made it. As much as he wanted to be surprised by Daro's quick thinking, Zef wasn't. He knew his ol' pal and while the smuggler could fling insults at Daro about being useless and all the synonyms that came with it all day long. The truth was by far the complete opposite. Scary thing about people like Tarsi is - they don't look as dangerous as they are.

"Would...would you shut it already, Tarsi?" He tried steadying his breathing but age was not just a number anymore. But heck, fethin Daro Tarsi couldn't stop talking, ever. Not even when the freaking living dead were about to devour his arse.

"Sortz..." Zef started before heavily inhaling and continuing. "You know the map, kid, whe-"

Abruptly a sound of muffled boom shook their ears. The source - the sealed door. The boom continued steadily as muffled noises of the hideous nightmares screeching.

How long would the fethin' door stand against the tsunami of dead behind it. Zef could feel his heart race and a rock in his throat. Even after surviving a similar situation so many decades ago with the Mandalorians, Zef would lie if he didn't admit that it was karkin' creepy. To an extent, you could say he had gotten used to all the chit the galaxy could throw at him but there's some feelings every human felt about certain situations.

Like a situation with walking dead.

How crazy is that?

"We ain't got time." He looked at his repeating blaster before dropping it on the ground. "And I ain't got much ammo left too." Zef took out his signature particle beam revolver from its holster.

"The sooner we get to the Bolt, the sooner we'll be off this chithole and the sooner I will get Tarsi to buy us a drink."

"Unless it's my fault we're here."

And it really was.

The hinges of the door loosened rapidly with each thunder clap coming from the other side.

And if that wasn't enough - sounds of feet hungrily making their way through a close quartered space such as a shaft became louder and louder with each passing moment.

​

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

 

[Arage Bao]

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

You two weren't moving.

...and then Halo piped in with his arsed face.

"Shut the kark up, Halo, I ain't telling ya how to handle ya daughter either." His cybernetic arm, all metal and rust and raw fiber, rose up and the index finger practically pointed into Zef's nose at the fierceness. It was true, was it not? When had Daro ever told Zef what to do with [member="Joza Perl"]? When had he ever given advice? Unsolicited or otherwise, when had he ever involved himself in his affairs with his daughter-

Except.

Sortz wasn't his daughter, was she?

Eyes squinted from Zef, to Sortz, then a soft glance darting to the edge of his peripheral when the noise of the bulk door reached his ears. This wasn't the time for it, but Daro wasn't about to leave it here either.

"I am dead, Sortz, Zef's dead, we are old and halfway through the grave. Might be five, ten, fifteen if we lucky, but our story is over." The index finger retreated and instead it tightened the hat over his head. She would have noticed by now how much he cared about it. How he always touched it when things got... tough. It wasn't just a hat for Daro, it was more than that.

"Yours is just beginning- never throw it away again for the likes of us."

His accent was gone now too... curious.

Another squint at both of them, mouth full with teeth an' nothing to say, causing him to grunt and push past them. Through the second door, because now Daro knew exactly where they were.

"As for da fault-" Over his shoulder as his attention went to the digi-pad on his wrist. "S'allways yours, ya arse-face." A tap and then the door hissed open. It revealed the path towards the elevators and from there right to the hidden hangar bay they had found on the side of the station. It had been used in the past by the elite of the station, when they needed somewhere... private.

"Leggo, da zeds will be led off by da Sith's fire elsewhere, we got a straight path for a while."

 

[Delaney Wilder]

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

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

"Well.... when ya put it like dat.." Jack murmured softly against her, before letting go and nodding. Yeah, they had stuck around here for long enough and some of her excitement was boiling over to him now as well. An energy, part happiness, part anxiety too if he was being honest, starting to seep into him and making him take faster action than before.

The bags ready, revolvers ready, they climbed down and out of their bolt-hole.

Usually they would have been careful and cautious taking many many minutes where seconds would have been good enough. But the Sith Empire's presence throughout the station was making a hell of a lot of noise.

The largest concentrations of the undead had long since been attracted towards those hotspots of violence, because that was simply in their nature. That left only thin pockets between them and the hangarbays. By this point they knew the route intimately, they took out what was directly in front of them, but otherwise kept their shots down to avoid unnecessary attention.

Didn't take long for them to reach the hangars.

The moment they got into view some of the Sith troopers immediately raised their carbines at them- oh, they had pre-warning from them through Farah, sure, but this was still hostile territory.

"Arms up, slow walk!" A Lieutenant shouted through the comms. Jack immediately got his arms up- maybe a Jedi or a Republic trooper would have said something twice, but the Sith? They usually were looking for an excuse to shoot and make a situation easy. Couldn't get much easier than a few blaster bolts through the head and a lack of processing paperwork.

"Might be time to get da good doctor's attention," Jack murmured over to Tryp.

 

[Sortz]

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

There was appreciation on her face when Zef told Daro to just stop talking for once. But the appreciation rapidly changed to something more like:

o.o

✓ seen 8:43pm

When Daro responded the way he did.

"Uh."

A blink.

"Okay."

That was it. At least for right then. Okay. She really didn't know how to respond to that. This was the guy who had not that long ago told her that people didn't have friends, just acquaintances with similar goals. For all she knew, he'd said that just now, not cause he meant it (Daro lied a lot after all) but just to get Zef off of his arse.

Of course, she also disagreed with him on some of his point.

He didn't get to tell her who, or what, she was willing to dig her heels in for.

She didn't argue. But mostly because she was still a little stunning by the first comment- combine that with the situation and, well, why argue about it? He was wrong, and didn't get to tell her what to do in that regard. It was, really, as simple as that.

Besides.

He was all she had.

With a small nod to Halo, she tugged the holo-projector from her belt, pulling up the map. In this case, she literally had it. Of course, as was often the case, Daro didn't need it to find them a way out.

"That's..... not on the map," Sortz muttered with a sigh, clipping the projector back again.

Sortz stubbornly refused to give up her position in the rear, but fortunately, there wasn't a fight about it. She was the one with enough ammo left if something came at them from behind. The trio moved, threading swiftly to the station and back to the ship they'd come on. With the Sith making all the noise, it was fairly straight forward (for once) and they clamored on, the door closing behind them. Daro and Zef threw goodnatured (?) insults back and forth between them, getting ready for take off.

As the whine of repulsor lifts filled the hangar, and the Bolt angled out into open space once again, Sortz was quiet.

Thinking.

 

[Farah]

Post: #7
Objective: Grab Tryp and Tryp’s man candy
In area: [member="Adrian Vandiir"] tol nerd
In the walls: [member="Tryp West"], [member="Jackson Singh"]

Farah was relieved to hear that Tryp was alright. There was a short list of people she wouldn’t have like to seen zombified and the Kiffar was on it. It wasn’t that Farah had the particular desire to see anyone in pain, but if she had to choose she’d rather it not be someone she actually liked.

“Alright. Take care not to come into contact with anyone infected.” Would she have used Tryp as a live specimen? That was something she’d consider for a few moments. More likely, an infected friend would be a testing ground for an antibiotic or antiviral. “There are troopers everywhere shooting down anything that’s not Sith Empire so proceed with caution.”

She half-turned towards the other Sith.

“I’ll be going now. May your scientific endeavors be able to live up to your smug attitude surrounding them.”

Part of Farah didn’t mind if he was right. Scientists could be extremely hostile when it came to accolades but in the end Farah cared more for data than anything else. Either way, she had plenty of specimens to examine for disease or otherwise transformative pathology.

After departing down a corridor, it didn’t take long for her to hear the authoritative shout of a Sith trooper. It wasn’t directed towards her given that she was still out of sight, but it did cause her to peek around the corner carefully, slowly approaching after she’d correctly identified the tall woman who’d toured her through some ruins a while back.

“Stand down. They’re with me.” Her voice was firm enough for that, looking over Tryp and her companion, perhaps for signs of infection or simply to confirm their identities, before she tilted her chin for them to follow. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

 

[AMCO]

Post Number 6
Objective: Prove that Sith science is the best science.
Nearby: [member='Farah'], pink nerd.
Nearby-ish: [member='Tryp West'], [member='Jackson Singh']

At her closing comment, he smiled slightly, though it wouldn't be visible from under the opaque visor. He didn't really have anything against medical science, but he did love a good argument. Especially when it came to arguing the superiority of force-based techniques. In truth, he doubted he would find anything the disease was disappointingly mundane, though that seemed unlikely to him. No matter. One way or another, the true cause would be uncovered, and hopefully utilised in some manner.

"Farewell then, and likewise in regards to your own experiments."

As they went their separate ways, he headed further into the station, quickly intercepting a small group of undead that had been heading towards their location. Perhaps the sound had attracted them. They weren't much of a threat. Dealing with the small group quickly and viciously, he eliminated all but one, which he grabbed telekinetically. As much as he hated to admit it, the good doctor might have had a point, so he decided to follow her instructions, which seemed to do the trick. The nasty little creature, a rotting woman missing chunks of her body and wearing what torn up rags remained, was biting around itself furiously, to no avail. Heh. That was easy. If it was going to... chit.

His eyes burst open as he felt the presence of a large, very large, group of zombies heading his way. Damn it all. Why had he never put enough attention in learning the art of force stealth? There was no doubt about it. The group, no, the horde was heading towards him. Damn it. He probably shouldn't have flung the zombies into the metal walls, even if it was effective. Grabbing the livid creature with a firm telekinetic grip, he began to dash towards the nearest hangar.

Bursting through the open doorway leading to the hangar, the only thing that prevented him from being gunned down on sight was his expensive looking enviro-suit and the fact that he was telekinetically dragging a zombie behind it. Following close behind was the sound of numerous appendages crashing against the cold metal floor. Spinning on his heels, he fired off a burst of Force Lightning into the blast door control panel, frying the circuitry and thus engaging the mechanical breach-safeguards that caused the door to slam shut a mere moment after the first of the zombies rounded the corner and entered his line of sight. "Dare I suggest that we all take a trip off this station? Something tells me that might be..." the sound of numerous surprisingly strong hands smashing against the thick durasteel echoed off the walls. "... advantageous to our general health and well-being." Not waiting for an answer from the Legionnaires, he pushed past them and made his way to the nearest shuttle, the paralyses from the neck down zombie still struggling futily against his telekinetic grasp. It was hardly his fault if they decided to get themselves eaten due to wholly unnecessary heroics.

"Oh hello again. Fancy meeting you here. I'm Adrian, by the way, and this..." He pointed towards the zombified female. "... is subject one. The first of many, I'm sure." He was definitely going to have to hitch a ride on an Armada vessel back to Bastion. There was no way he was bringing this thing onto his personal shuttle.

 

[Tryp West]

Objective: BYE BYE BYE
Nearby: [member="Jackson Singh"] [member="Farah"]
Less nearby: [member="Adrian Vandiir"]

There was no hiding the relief on Tryp's face as they sorted things out with the troopers. This was easy. This was living. You couldn't talk and discuss things with the undead. After weeks on this station? This was a cake walk.

"See? She knows us," she confirmed by the end of it, as Farah joined them.

But Tryp was smiling broadly and she threw a casual salute to the troopers. Her free hand went down, sliding into Jack's, lacing fingers, and squeezing softly as they fell in with Farah.

"Ya 'ave no idea 'ow glad we are ta see ya. Farah, dis is Jack. Jack, Farah."

The way she smiled at Jack said it all.

"A'right, let's blow this scene."

Tryp had never before been happier to leave a place. Well, maybe Dagobah but even that was different. Getting onto one of the Imperial Ships, hand in hand with Jack- both alive and more.

Back on the station, clean up continued, the Sith taking control and cleaning up the mess left. Maybe someday people would know what exactly had happened here. Maybe not.

Tryp didn't care.

They were free.

 

[LT-137]

[member="Kobe Seren"] | [member="Tsisaar Taral"]​

​

It began with a subtle ripple. As the Sun Guard roused himself from the grated deck and began moving away from the primed device, the man’s attention was inexplicably drawn towards the alien creature that now stood behind him. Throwing a glance over his armoured shoulder, his helmet-shrouded vision bore witness to the barely conceivable stands of energy that billowed throughout the fluted corridor. From what little he had learned about the mystical arts, they were threads of life itself, and they began to artfully weave themselves into the flesh the of Xenos-breed that sought to bend them to his will. By unseeable means, these colourless fibres coursed throughout his personage and raced towards his outstretched extremities, building in intensity with every timeless moment. Once they had reached the shrouded figure’s fingertips, they were forcibly expelled from his person, lashing out at the shambling horde that sought to feast upon their flesh. While this display of power was not something that would’ve brought a smile to his face, it was the flash of polished silver and crimson that forced his lips to part in a sadistic grin.

When Khonsu was joined by the figure, the man hadn’t bothered to avert his gaze from the ensuing chaos. He wanted to see what would come from their combined efforts and revel in the delicious slaughter that was to come. With the first row of lumbering corpses forced to ground, causing those that stalked afterwards to follow suit, the corridor soon became a groaning blockade of rotting organic filth. They clawed at one another in the hopes of righting themselves but were pressed back into the grated surface of the deck by those that kept adding to the pile. It was a beautiful sight to behold but paled in comparison to the detonation that pulsed from within their ranks. There was a moment of enforced silence, as the grenade sucked in the groaning sounds of the horde, only to violently burst outwards thereafter. A mesmerizing wave of concussive force shot outwards, converting decayed flesh and gnawed bones into a visceral, bloody paste that coated the fluted bulkheads in a glistening crimson.

When several of the corpses had roused themselves from the mass-graves of their former comrades, Khonsu’s instant reaction was to raise his rifle and sight a target. It wouldn’t be long until their severely diminished number were upon them, but as there were so few counted amongst this shambling horde; the Sun Guard believed that they could take them. They would fall before the combined might of an electrified force pike, and the crimson sabre that was clasped within his companion’s shimmering grip. Two skilled combatants against a shambling wall of the dead? They stood no chance. However, before his finger depressed on the firing mechanism, a metallic groan echoed throughout the hallway, drowning out the gathered moans of the dead. In the seconds that followed the supporting walls, and the ceiling before them collapsed in a shower of torn plating and sparking cables, crushing those that survived the violence of the grenade’s detonation.

The Sun Guard chuckled, as his eyes gravitated towards the newest path that had revealed itself. There wasn’t going to be much room for them to maneuver through the diminutive access tunnel, for it seemed that it was meant for droids - who were specifically designed to seamlessly glide through the sealed hatches, and the lengthy hallways thereafter. While it was true that they could carry on, moving through the lower decks of the station, it was more than likely that they wouldn’t encounter anything of note, let alone survivors. What they had encountered mere moments before, was more than likely the remnants of the station’s occupants who resided within the bowels of the installation. If they weren’t the last and were uninfected? Then it would matter little in the end, as they would have enough sense to follow their efforts within the station and either direct themselves towards the safe-zones erected by the Sith-Imperial Legions or link up with the various patrols roaming the spinal corridors.

With the sound of a rapidly igniting lightsabre echoing within his helmet, Khonsu had reacted swiftly by taking a step backwards and aiming his rifle at the remnants of a partial corpse that had somehow managed to survive the tumult that afflicted this corridor. The man let out a breath he didn’t realize that he was holding and calmly listened to the words his newfound companion stated. It was within his best interest to have someone watching his back as they made their way further and further into the depths of the Black Star, however, be damned if he would share his cut of the spoils with the betentacled Sith. Nodding his head in acknowledgement, the Sun Guard silently keyed his suit’s external annunciator and allowed the deep, resonating tones of his voice spill across the connection.

“So long as you know that I’m not sharing my cut, then you may join me on the hunt.”

As the connection severed in a barely audible hiss of static, Khonsu fanned his taloned fingers across the textured grip of his rifle and slowly began his ascent up the access corridor. There, shrouded in the crimson glow of the flickering emergency lighting, the Golden figure palmed the access terminal and allowed the doors before him to retract into their housings, revealing the narrow passageway beyond. Without looking back to see if he was being followed by his newfound companion, the Mercenary stepped towards the portal and pressed on - stopping only when the conical light of his rifle’s floodlight had found itself bathing another figure in the brilliant amberized light.

“Stop right there,” the Sun Guard stated, allowing a bestial snarl to chase after his words. “Or face the wrath of a Thyrsian.”