Weekend Treasure Hunt 23: A Fistful of Denarii

[Mammut]

"Do you even know who I am?" The voice came out of his helmet's speakers hollow, deep and cold.

Small cracks webbed the permacrete beneath the power armor's boots as Orcus strode forward with resolute implacability. The woman struggled to rise, clearly stunned.

"Do you even know why you fight?"

Another series of steps. The gap between them slowly closed.

This woman who he had never met before in all his life seemed hell-bent on spilling his blood. Because he carried a crimson blade? Because she felt the Dark Side in him? No.

"Hauum. I can feel your rage. Your anger. You enjoy this. You revel in it."

A silver streak flew through the air as she rose. The lightsaber hilt smacked into her waiting palm and once more the brilliant orange blade sang to life. Her attack came at once, a double blow, too swift for him to counter in the cumbersome armor. The saber tore into his beskar chest plate, leaving a long furrow in the armor that glowed a molten red.

Orcus caught the second blow, a backhanded strike that left her wrist susceptible, with a beat parry aimed to jar her blade out of line and send it wildly askew, or else break the wrist with his heinous strength. He followed it up with a push kick from his colossal, armored foot aimed at her kneecap.

"So do I."

[member="Vassara Raxis"]

 

[RC 212]

[member="Hion the Herglic"]

For a second she thought she was winning. She was indeed enjoying it, she felt the rush and felt the blood. The end was not this day. The massive clomps punctuated every line and his words swam in her head. The darkness tugged at her soul, now keeping her afloat more than anything. Hatred, pure hatred. She was slipping woefully, so woefully.

As the strike dislodged her guard she growled, letting the hiss of anger out between her teeth. Then her blade deactivated. Long ago she had fought a few Sith and designed the lightsaber specifically not to work for an wielder if they were dark aligned. She was falling, and so hard that the Jal'Shey spirit in her crystal had shut off the power.

"Rargghhh!"

The kick was massive, and she countered with the open palm, surging as much focus as she could into putting a wall between the wale and herself. A rush of air and force mixed together compressed rapidly and slammed into the foot. She held it for a mere moment before dodging left and releasing. There weren't many options left. Saber, gone. Force, tiring and fast.

Both gloved hands dipped to her belt drawing twin pistols. One was a huge revolver with square headed rounds. The other, her custom design. The Thundergun, a tr-barreled blaster with a sonic pistol bottom barrel. The triggers depressed, sonic, blaster and slug rounds rained into the beast, and her deft feet backpedaled. Space was of the essence.

 

[Mammut]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SXpnI52cLEc​

​

The armored foot slammed into the ground upon its release, sending up splinters of permacrete.

She forewent the blade in favor of her pistols. Odd. Orcus didn't know what to make of that, but he could sense the furies inside this woman building into a crescendo of panicked wroth. A volcano, belly warm, not knowing when or where to birth its ruination.

The Sith Lord turned in her direction and continued to plow on unabated.

"We might have achieved much together, you and I."

The great saber hummed, catching two of the blaster bolts and sending them back at her. Those which he missed darted into the MA1's deflector shield and dissipated. The square-headed slugs slammed into his chest plate, ricocheted off his helmet, and left scars on the pauldrons. But it was the sonic rounds which did the most damage. They rippled through the deflector shield and broke against the surface of Orcus' armor. The imparted force transferred through the beskar plating, through the dura armor, and even through the molytex fiber designed to prevent bruising from blaster fire.

He felt as though a series of punches had landed against his midriff, jarring ribs previously broken by the one called Denko. Orcus clacked his teeth and let out a vexed trill of discomfiture, but he did not cease the advance on her person. The Dark Ocean within called to him and to it he answered, for there could be no sweeter siren. A rage fueled his limbs, a power of hideous might. He took on storms for his cloak, lightning in his voice and in his thews the embodied force of crashing waves.

A wall loomed behind her. Stations such as this were designed with efficiency in mind. Spaciousness was anathema. Two more steps and he crossed into striking distance. The great saber hummed downward in a brutal Falling Avalanche aimed to deprive her of her left arm at the shoulder, swiftly followed by a thrust angled to pin her to the wall like a butterfly.

"A pity."

[member="Vassara Raxis"]

 

[RC 212]

[member="Hion the Herglic"]

She was out of ammo...

And there was very little time to reload. Vassara thought of all the possibilities, all the optons she had left. She was skilled at hand to hand, but he was too big. She could pull her Czerka- Yes that was it. The beleaguered Master managed to pull her third side arm, as she chucked the other two full force at the whale, aiming for his head.

Just before his strike landed she dishcarged the firearm, a Czerka machine pistol. It fire tungsten slugs modified by her and in a stream of fire and blood dripping from her battered body she went down hard against the bulkhead. The saber strike was swift, decisive and fueled by the pure dark energies of the Sith. She couldn't match him without the saber and the rage was too far gone to get it back.

The arm came clean off, sliced through by the fearsome attack. Vassara roared in pain as the flesh cauterized instantly bubbling and acrid smoke began to thrust its way into her nostrils. The pain was imesne and her bladder let go on the floor, terror adding to the mix of rage.

The spearing blade thrust but she was still barely coherent. With a shove from her good arm she pushed off from the wall rolling just until she hit the Whales legs. She had two more tricks, and then she was out. She closed her eyes and focused, through the tears streaming with the blood down her face.

Karen Roberts lightsaber flew to her palm, from deep inside her jacket and she activated it. A gift Karen had given her upon the beginning of her training. And now she felt wretched. Dying, in the throes of the darkside and using the tool of her mentor in an act of aggression. It was a disgrace. She was a disgrace.

"Raaaaaaaaah!"

Rage swung the blade in a circle over her body, aiming to cleave a chunk of flesh from the whales leg.

 

[Mammut]

Hurled guns rebounded off his helm, though one left a small webbing of cracks in the visor. A mild irritant made all the more so by the pathetic desperation with which they were thrown. Black eyes narrowed in disapproval.

She managed to draw and fire her pistol. The tungsten rounds careened into the Malacath-series power armor with muffled gongs, leaving ugly, purple bruises the size of apples on the alabaster blubber beneath the plates. Deep within Force Rage, Orcus fed upon his own anguish. A leviathan from the depths, heedless of its own wounds, who would fight unto death.

He struck.

Fzzzt.

The amputated limb fell to the floor with a thud muted by her screams. Oh and what screams they were, rising high and clear with the smoking incense from her stump. Nectar and ambrosia to his ears. The Dark Ocean roiled within, pleased by this offering, but craving more, demanding further tribute. Who was Orcus to deny this inner lust? Not when it matched his ambitions in such perfect alignment. No, he savored her suffering.

She rolled, bumping into his plated shins. The thrust missed, piercing only the wall. Durasteel glowed and melted around the crimson blade.

Orcus glanced down even as she withdrew a second lightsaber and brought it to life with a rebel yell.

Pain flared, hot and bright in his senses as the incandescent blade shorted out the deflector shield and seared through molytex and armorweave at the back of the knee to burn the blubber and sinew beneath; fusing fabric and flesh in black char. The leg buckled slightly forward.

Orcus bellowed his agonized indignation and lifted up that same scorched leg. He brought it down in a ruthless stomp, reckless of his own misery, seeking to flatten her remaining arm against the floor and trap it there beneath more than half a ton of power armored Herglic. He lowered the great saber, murder in his eyes, until the tip rested near her throat.

[member="Vassara Raxis"]

 

[RC 212]

[member="Hion the Herglic"]

She was trapped. Not much energy was left in her shattered body. The strike landed full force crushing her arm and maiming it. The bones and tendons shattered under the whales immense weight, sending more pain than was ever bearable by a human being through her body. She couldn't move, couldn't blink. There was nothing left in her. An empty vessel from the floor starred up at the whale with glazed eyes.

She fully accepted doom now, feeling the force swirl around her, hearing her heartbeat slow through the deckplates. Blood was smeared everywhere on top her and ixed with saliva. Molten metal dripped from the wall, her stub still smoked and the lights began to flicker. She still stared up, deeply into the Whales eyes. One last curse upon him. The spiral scar within her shoulder blazed once more and the Nightsister that possesed her soul came forth from the void, apparating inside her mind.

Her mouth croaked a crooked spell, hexing the whale. A curse of force psychosis. It would start slow and steady and as the curse thickened the Withc in due time would present herself, claiming a half of the Orca's soul as well. But as for her, she was finished. She'd written about this exact moment to Jorus. The exact moment that played every night in her dreams. The moment she had tried to avoid at all costs. She could feel darkness eternal in her soul and knew that forever more she was corrupted, completely and utterly fallen.

"Do it." She said, blood exploding from her raucous coughs.

"Strike me down you savage, return my twisted mangled spririt to the force."

 

[Mammut]

The helmet's faceplates hissed as they retracted, baring the Sith Lord's features. He wore a hairless frown on a noseless face, wide and foreign. Flesh, a sheen of onyx that turned to alabaster below the mouth. Laugh lines marked his cheeks, belied by the glint of malice in eyes as black as the ocean's depths. As his lips parted, rows of teeth emerged, terrifying in their breadth.

"Poor child," a voice composed of a fathomless bass, "Do you feel your rage? These your last thoughts, and them of vengeance."

Orcus loomed over her in the wan, artificial light of the station. He, who had died many deaths, knew what awaited her in the afterlife. The Massassi sigil burnt into his forehead already marked him as accursed, bound to never know the endless walk. The Dark Lord's so-called favor.

The Force would spit her corruption out of the Netherworld and into Chaos. Hell as the Corellians knew it. Damned to eternal suffering. He wondered briefly if he should spare her from that fate. No, it was not to be. He could see the stubbornness in her eyes. She might have fallen, but she would never join him. In her mad and uncontrollable rage she would only be a tool of destruction. There were enough of those in the galaxy already. What a waste... but then only through sacrifice could galactic stability be achieved.

"You will die in the grip of the Dark Side."

The humming tip of the great saber inched toward her throat, bathing her in crimson light.

"And thus you will never know Oneness."

Orcus flicked the blade down and in.

Fzzzt.

[member="Vassara Raxis"]

 

[RC 212]

[member="Hion the Herglic"]

There was no glory, no fields of trumpets. She died, right there on the floor as the saber sliced through flesh and bone with ease. The head separated from the body and listless eyes gazed as it rolled across the floor, coming to a stop against the side of a random pipe. There may have been an echo in the force, or perhaps not.

Vassara Raxis, she whom had moved mountains against the darkness. Whom had crusaded beside all manner of factions and Rebels to cleanse the darkness from the galaxy , had fallen in her final moments.

Vassara Raxis,

She was dead....

 

[Mammut]

He stared at the headless corpse, brow furrowed.

The Dark Ocean had had its tribute, but as always it was never full. Never satisfied. A shudder wracked Orcus and he knew not why, nor did he understand the ice seeping through his veins. But he did know that few came back from such a death. Few indeed.

He took a step forward only to have his injured leg buckle. Orcus collapsed to a knee. He blinked at the floor, this close to the body he could smell the acrid tang of scorched hair and cooked flesh, along with the nauseating stench of her bodily fluids, emptied in death. Orcus noted the lightsaber in her hand.

"That blade." Callously, he wrenched it from her slack fingers. A familiar presence tinged the hilt. He clipped it to his belt for further inspection and arose, gingerly resting weight on the injured leg.

"[member="Graze"], airlock K19 is clear of hostiles. Report."

 

[Haytham Kaze]

Location: Chasing After his Master

Once the Captain, [member="Vassara Raxis"] had entered the ready room with the suits, the ebony haired boy looked up in question just as it landed on his head and he immediately rose to his feet to start pulling on the space suit. It was black and gray like most of his wardrobe was these days. Once it was on, he rolled his shoulders back and he buckled his belt back onto him, lightsabre, blaster and all attached. He even had a trusty grappling hook, who knew if it could be useful in a place like this.

Walking down the ramp a few steps behind his crazed Master, he eyed the black cylinder in his hand as his own hand hovered over his belt for his own silver one, but instead of grabbing it right away, he stuck behind her and watched. She was doing he realized, he could sense it in the Force. Was she meditating? It felt different from the Jedi back in the Republic, he couldn't explain it, but he watched intently.

Closing his own eyes for what felt like a moment to try and gain a sense as to what she was doing, before he could even gather his senses completely he opened his eyes and she was gone. All he saw was her hair flowing behind her as she exited the hangar. A frown immediately crossed his features as he hurried after, gathering the Force around his own person and into his body to push him to greater speeds, to amplify his already Jedi trained enhanced physique. Like how Vassara was using the Force to track the Sith, Haytham used the Force to track her and his eyes as he headed down the hallway, letting a hand drag along the wall until there was no more wall left and he realized that it was in fact a doorway.

The frown at long last fell away from his face and he felt his Master's presence having passed through this threshold and he lunged into it, chasing after her like the trio of heroes that hunted two halflings that were abducted by the Enemy.

Taking a deep breath, he dove into the abyss that was this small hallway, dodging the wires and tools that were strewn about it. Running as fast as he could, he saw the molten colour of the wall before him as he headed towards it. Of course, he didn't stop as of yet as he took the grappling hook off of his belt and pointed it to the ceiling as he dropped suddenly. Unprepared, his finger twitched on the trigger and the hook wrapped around something much sooner than he had guessed it would and he crashed into the wall as the fibercord swung him in the middle of the maintenance shaft. His Master was clearly in a rush, for what reason he didn't know, but he figured it was because of the dark presence he had felt previously. Any force user worth their salt would've felt that power in the Force. He lowered himself down the maintenance shaft until he saw the molten trail of the Mandalorian's lightsabre fade away until it completely disappeared and throwing a look over his shoulder he saw the open door.

With a press of a button on the side of the grappling gun, the took far above him disengaged as with one final swing he brought himself to the wall and kicked off of it, throwing himself into a somersault as he passed through the doorway that would bring him closer to his master's intense presence. Suddenly he heard a snapping sound in his hand as he glanced down and the grappling gun's mechanism locked into place like measuring tape and he hooked it back onto his belt as he strode down the hallway, cautiously.

Ten metres down the hallway he felt his Master's presence and he jogged the rest of the length of the hallway as he rounded the corner, his gray gaze barely sparing a glance for the shorted out circuits for the door. Not even a care, huh? He exhaled a breath of air, and he stepped through the threshold once more to go after his Master again, finally taking his silver hilt off of his belt as he took in the scene before him.

The Padawan had taken a few steps through the doorway as he felt one of the few lives on the space station leave. He had grown quite receptive to that, the beginning of his Jedi training saw to that. But this one was different, it was the presence of [member="Vassara Raxis"], and he knew it was one of death. He blinked in surprise as he saw the large beast over her body slowly raise up to it's gargantuan height.

Casting any doubts from his mind, he didn't even search for the body of Vassara Raxis as he threw his lightsabre forward, the light weight of the hilt reaching the peak of it's height quickly as he used the Force to guide it the rest of the way to [member="Hion the Herglic"], and with a twist activated the lightsabre as it traveled through the air towards the Herglic's wounded leg, to finish severing it -- if it were possible. It spun through the distance with the saberthrow rapidly, and with a raised hand to continue it's guide, his grey eyes couldn't help but jump to the crumpled form on the floor a few steps away from the Sith Lord and his stance wavered for the briefest of moments as he brought his gaze back to the direction his lightsabre had been thrown.

 

[Mammut]

A presence appeared in the doorway. Orcus sighed heavily and the faceplates hissed shut, sealing his features away behind the helmet.

"Nevermind." The com link clicked off.

He turned away from the corpse, the sai cha mark of contact still smoking, to face the newest foe. No sooner had he moved than the young man hurled a lightsaber at him. The blade whirled with a greedy hum as it spun toward his wounded leg. The J2 droid brain installed inside the MA1 power armor tracked the incoming deadly projectile, painting it with the Neuro-Saav K-65 targeting computer.

The Sith Lord's great saber flicked out and cut the hilt of the incoming lightsaber in two in a contemptuous display of sun djem.

Orcus glared through the cracked visor at the youth, a being brimming with energetic vitality. A shame to end so short a life. Yet he had little patience for those who supported the anarchy of these Underground terrorists.

"Run, boy."

[member="Haytham Kaze"]

 

[Haytham Kaze]

I should've seen that coming. The thought passed through his mind as his lightsabre's hilt was severed in two. It was a shame really, it was the first one he ever built. His left hand clenched, realizing that the chances of him holding that lightsabre's hilt again was slimming. He wouldn't stand down from this fight. He hadn't been a wandering force for good for long, but he wasn't going to back down from the dark power before him.

His head shook from side to side at the two words spoken to him from the massive beast.

"You know I can't do that," he said as he extended his right arm down and to the side, allowing his second lightsabre to slip out of his sleeve and into the palm of his hand. It was a secondary one, but the same length as his previous blade. Swapping hands immediately, he held it at the ready. The light side of the Force burned within him.

[member="Hion the Herglic"]

 

[Mammut]

"So be it."

Orcus raised his blade into a low Djem So guard and waited for the attack.

He should have been surprised by the appearance of a second saber, but given what had occurred in his previous encounter it seemed par for the course with these rebel Force-Users. Idly, the Herglic wondered what else the youth had hidden up his sleeve.

[member="Haytham Kaze"]

 

[Haytham Kaze]

It appeared that the Sith wouldn't take the offensive.

In his experience it was better to defend upon the initial attack, at least, that's what worked for him when he fought the Sith when they invaded Republic planets. This one was different, he felt. But there was nothing to be done about that.

Igniting the emerald beam in a makashi stance, he went charging across the room to slash across the chest of the Herglic, from upper left, to lower right. With his swing, his left foot was positioned half a step in front of his right. He made the move quickly. A being this large wouldn't be able to move that fast, not without draining themselves in the Force anyway.

[member="Hion the Herglic"]

 

[Graze]

"Gotcha," Koh said after he had placed his weapon against the Hapan's temple. He smirked, forgetting about the Gun of Command that she wielded. Secure in his belief that Koh had the woman well in hand, Graze continued forward until they stood beside each other. Pulling the map from his pocket, Koh lowered his gun to rest against the Hapan's spine. As the two conversed over the map, the Hapan slowly moved the arm holding her weapon until it pointed at her Herglic captor. "Get this," she yelled, pulling the trigger and wrenching herself away. Startled, Graze raised his blaster and aimed it toward her, but she had already whipped herself around, gun at the ready. The two stood for a moment, gauging each other as enemies, before she spoke once more.

"Herglic," she yelled, "You are now mine to command. Kill this Karkaradon! Defend me until your dying breath!"

As the last syllables of her command met the air, the stunned Koh leaped to action, tackling Graze. As Koh did so, Graze managed to squeeze off a single shot at the fleeing Hapan, catching her in the leg. She crumpled to the floor as it gave out; Graze fell beneath his massive friend.

"Soldier! Stand down," Graze said through gritted teeth, using his powerful arms to hold Koh's attacks at bay. In response, Koh swung, one meaty fist making contact with Graze's face. "I will never stand down," Koh said. Graze's mind cringed away from the thought of what he might have to do. The Gun of Command was too powerful, and the Hapan's words had become the only thought within Koh's mind. Nevertheless, Graze shuddered to think that he might lose not one, but both of his men. And one by his hand. Struggling to reach the soldier he'd trained with, Graze bunched his muscles and rolled until he came to rest on top of his friend. He scooted forward, pinning Koh, but the Herglic never stopped struggling.

"Remember me, Koh," Graze begged. "Remember our mission. This Hapan has taken over your mind, but you can fight it. I know you can."

The words had no effect on the crazed whale, except to make him struggle more violently. He bucked, attempting to dislodge Graze from his perch, but Graze refused to budge. He didn't wish to do this. He couldn't.

But he must.

Graze's heart seemed to revolt as he held Koh down. With one hand, he reached to take hold of his gun where it had fallen beside them, then placed it against Koh's forehead. At the touch of the cool metal, the Herglic stilled, but his eyes remained filled with a single message--Kill the Karkaradon. Graze saw, and he mourned. His friend, his soldier, could not be saved from the Hapan's command. His only chance at freedom lay in death. A sob rumbled deep in Graze's chest, threatening to spill from him in a loud roar. He pushed it away, drawing his mind as far from the situation as possible. Nevertheless, his soul continued to ache. He pulled the trigger, shattering the look in his friend's eyes and freeing him from the cruel barrel of the Hapan's gun. But Graze would never be free. Not until he, too, found his death. It was he who had pulled the trigger, and it was he who would be haunted by the look in his friend's eyes as the last bit of life slipped away from him. He would carry the shame for eternity.

Though the pain inside would never dull, Graze knew that he could use it to strengthen himself. He bowed his head, saying a quick word over the body that was once his comrade, then rose and followed the trail of blood that led to the Hapan terrorist. He found her huddled behind the same boxes that he and Koh had stood behind, unable to stand and make her way through the exit. He stared at her, hate and grief twisting inside him, then reached out, the emotions making his touch rougher as he wrenched the Gun of Command from her grasp and hauled her to her feet. Wordlessly, he dragged her back to the center of the room, where he stood next to the Herglic's lifeless form.

A stiff silence took over while Graze searched for the map he had dropped at the Hapan's attack. It was shattered as Orcus' voice crackled to life over the comlink. His mind gripped in anguish, Graze answered his commander's query.

"The mission is complete, Sir. I have the terrorist woman well in hand. Unfortunately, our Herglic soldiers were lost in the process. What would you prefer I do?"

[member="Hion the Herglic"]

 

[Cloudburner]

- Deleted -

 

[Olan Teff]

[member="Kinsey Starchaser"] [member="Abric Korne"] [member="Kiber Thaxton"]

Olan did not need anymore incentive than that. Moving forward he Activated the magnets on the ends of the door popper. 'CLANK! CLANK!' It was in position. Looking to the center he set the drill on the other end and the timer.

Fifteen seconds...

Reaching up a gloved hand he held up all five fingers three times to Kiber as he smacked the start key and ran to a safe area. Holding up his rifle at the ready to the hole.

Besides the distant soundnof combat, they could hear the drill on the thing as the time went down for it to explode.

Three...

He checked his blades were in place. Never know if it might get close and personal.

Two...

In the distance, the sound of his explosive tripwire trap went off. Time was running out.

One!

The room beyond the blasters would be filled with a sudden wave of pressure as the explosion happened in steps. One through the door, second to blow the interior a bit and weaken the structure, then the third which impacted both ways to make the proper way in.

It worked good, happening in a flash of bright light and fire. A man sized hole would be left.

Strangely enough, the two occupents who had been within and taken the 'low road' would've gotten a good head start on them. So they would most definitely not been hit by the first blast or debris. Hell, they may not even feel the shock from the explosion!

"In!" He mouths to Kiber and began to move in on the hole to the Command Center.

 

[Ronan Nakasla]

OBJECTIVE: Get a Lightsaber
LOCATION: Hallways Outside Command Centre

---

Jules did not want to get into how he got here. It was embarrassing for his reputation as a pilot, and let us just say that he would have to find a different ride to get off. The shuttle he borrowed did not exactly make it through the journey. He knew the trip was treacherous, so he left his beloved Lorsan Tekka somewhere else. Somewhere safe.

He could hear the different battles raging across the station. Big battles with big-time people. He felt cold and at the same time he was sweating. He would think he was sick, but he knew there were Force Users fighting everywhere, and this tended to happen when they were. He was here because he heard that there were crystals here, too. Only these ones were inside lightsabers, and he would have to get away with one of those pretty cylinders if he wanted his prize.

More than anything, he hoped he would not get dragged into a fight with someone who could snap their fingers and squash his head. There was a pretty little gem calling his name in the room he was about to enter, and he did not want to die for it. He neared the door to the Command Centre, pressed the button to open the door, and held his breath.

 

[Mammut]

Just inside airlock K19...

[member="Graze"]'s voice chimed on the comm channel inside Orcus' helmet. The Herglic blinked.

"Bring her back to the airlock for exfiltration, Foreman."

The conversation was cut short as the human attacked him yet again in an oddly wide Form II attack. He didn't know what the youth hoped to accomplish with the opening slash. A display of his own speed? Indeed, the boy's vigor lent him swiftness that Orcus could not hope to match in his heavy suit of armor. So, Orcus didn't even attempt to parry the incoming strike.

The lightsaber struck the pock-marked, dented and charred beskar chest plate. It left a black furrow in the armor that crossed the previous one from the woman's blade. Together, they formed an x on the defaced armor. Orcus could feel the heat, even from within the layers of molytex and armorweave beneath the beskar.

At the same time [member="Haytham Kaze"]'s blow landed, Orcus' off-hand rocketed forward in a savage, bone-shattering punch aimed at the padawan's unprotected face.

 

[Kiber_Thaxton]

[member="Olan Teff"]

Kiber followed Olan into the command center, his disruptor pistol drawn and sweeping the room, checking to see if anyone else was in the room with them. It was clear. He wandered over the console and saw that it had been destroyed. There was no way it could be repaired. It most likely would have been wiped out by one of the prior occupants just before their escape. Looking up above him, Kiber saw there was a vent - they must have got up in there and crawled along into another room. They could be anywhere in the station now. He slammed his fist down on the burnt out console. "Damn it!!" the Mandalorian roared, shaking his hand to disperse the stinging pain from the blow.