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_ "Mine is the face of blood and fire." _

_ "Mine is the spirit of fear and the dark side." _

~ The Sickness, the Infection

“It began, as all things like it do, with the efforts of a Sith Lord of old- Darth Drear, founder of the Sith academy on Ocader-Faustin," Voyde explained softly but clearly to his subordinate. “It can rightly be said that he was wiser than most in that he sought immortality by facing that which is feared by all such men who seek such power- death itself. Where most would opt to find ways to extend their lives and transfer their spirits into the bodies of others, Drear's study of Sith Alchemy lead him down a darker route- one that most Sith Lords at the time feared to follow in. Upon completion of his academy's library, he set about refining a Sith temple he had hidden beneath its athenaeum, where he would conduct his dark rituals and studies in secret. He devised a complex elixir utilizing the Murakami orchid, a plant with petals of velvet midnight which was, curiously enough, also Force-sensitive and possessed a high count of midichlorians. To his credit, the elixir nearly worked, but for a single flaw; when ingested he did indeed persist beyond the inevitability of death, yet the elixir itself contained a viral element that would cease all brain function and cause his body to rot."

“It seems a foolish venture," Thresher stated bluntly. “The weak always seem eager to cheat death."

“Is it truly weakness?" Voyde replied, peering at the shark skeptically. “I should think such knowledge would be an indicator of skill and drive, an example of bending the Force to one's will."

“Were that the case," Thresher countered, “Darth Drear would still be alive, would he not?"

“Touche," Voyde answered, chuckling. “Perhaps he was indeed weak, but one must give credit where it was due- he was on the right path, so close to succeeding."

“What stopped him?"

“Drear planned extensively, intending to finish the ritual to complete the effects of his elixir. It relied upon the use of a Sith-empowered blade to cut out the still-beating heart of a Jedi, one possessed of a high midichlorian count, which he would then devour. But although his lackeys did return with a Jedi, he or she apparently did not possess the measure of midichlorians he needed. In the end, he perished, reduced to nothing more than a decaying corpse."

“Sounds like an impressive ceremony," Thresher commented dryly as he circled the Sith Inquisitor's table, still littered with documents from ancient times. “And this is what the 'Sickness' is, that Inquisitor Tooem has been working on?"

“Not precisely," Voyde continued. “Drear's academy persisted even though he did not. Eventually, Darth Scabrous stumbled upon the hidden temple and Drear's holocron, and started to replicate the experiments. When he was finally able to procure a Murakami orchid, he foolishly failed to factor in the resolve of the undead construct he had unwittingly created and was himself infected- the affliction spread through the academy until it was completely overrun, leading to isolation of Drear's academy. Scabrous' efforts were flawed, a cheap attempt to gain power he did not earn, but three thousand years later..." He smiled. “Well, Darth Sidious sat in a seat of power, and at his right hand was Darth Vader. It was Vader who discovered the outbreak of the Ocader-Faustin academy, retrieving data from Drear's damaged holocron. Still in the middle of battling the Rebel Alliance, Vader ordered the Imperial Bio-Weapons Division to research the virus, replicate it, and weaponize it. This was the start of Project I71A, which was codenamed 'Blackwing' after the appearance of the Murakami orchid."

“Did the research gain the desired results?"

“Exceptional results," Voyde acknowledged.

“Then why was it not used?" Thresher queried, frowning.

“We can only guess at the mind of the late Emperor Palpatine, my friend; but many in the Circle believe that it was never used because it was far more potent than initially expected. It would not be the first time the Empire has created a bioweapon that the Emperor himself was hesitant to employ. The destruction of the Noghri world of Honoghr, the destruction of a Falleen city- there is even rumor of a plague that his personal scientists developed, which not even the Circle has yet discovered, that the Emperor himself feared to use. Yet all of these were the failings of the Imperial Bio-Weapons Division in their efforts to tamper with forces far beyond their understanding. There was a time when it was, in fact, planned to be used. The final product of the virus was transported on an Imperial Star Destroyer, the Vector, but when several foolish troopers mishandled the containers that were to be used for transport, the virus quickly spread and the ship was overrun. In the end, only seven personnel managed to survive."

“Too much for them to handle," Thresher finished.

“Quite so," the elder Sith said with a nod, peering at the documents closely.

“And this is why you won't send me and my team after the Sentinel and his allies?"

“Lad, there are but two outcomes to this- they will either die, unable to overcome the horrors that they face, or they will survive with much in the way of personal cost. And if it's the latter, you may very well be set against them."

“The cat bitch requires a face-carving," Thresher growled.

“Your personal vendettas will have to wait," Voyde replied. “If she dies, she will not have been worth your efforts in the slightest."

“Hey kitten."

Syrra awoke abruptly, flinching at the sound of Locke's voice. The moment her eyes fell on Jedi Guardian she relaxed, whimpering slightly. “How long was I out?" she asked, groaning.

“An hour at most," Locke assured her as he moved to sit by her side. She was on some manner of medical bunk in a recovery room. “How are you feeling?"

Syrra stared at him for a moment as exhaustion left her, an answer having flickered into her head. “... Short-handed."

There was a pause where the two stared into each others eyes for a full three seconds before they both burst out laughing, a feeling of gleeful madness in Syrra's heart as she shook with giggles. Even as she glanced at the stump where her arm once was, she did not ignore the fact that she was alive and in the presence of someone looking out for her.

Locke chuckled, reaching out and stroking her face. “My brother," he said, “was a little angry with me. Though it's because he's safe and has had time to focus on you that he was able to be angry in the first place."

“Why is that?" Syrra asked, nuzzling into his paw. “Because you lopped my hand off?"

“Precisely- but he's now aware of how close to death you truly were," Locke replied gravely.

“How close?" Syrra asked, swallowing nervously.

“The doctor examined your blood while she, Kajex and I discussed what has been going on with this vessel- you are clear of infection, and you have been inoculated with the anti-virus, as have myself, Miles and Liam. We are safe from infection; but Kajex, Keris, Rook and Talrik are not." He hesitated, nodding to her arm stump. “Transmission of the virus through bite wounds is the signature method of infection by the Blackwing virus. I had to amputate your arm quickly before your accelerated heart-rate delivered the infection throughout your body. Had it progressed any farther, you'd have died and returned as one of those abominations. I'm sorry, I truly am- if there had been another wa--"

She did not allow him to continue, sitting up and cupping his face, kissing him firmly. As far as she was concerned, he had done right by her and Kajex, and her affection was the fastest way to let her lover know it- he understood it as he matched her intensity, drawing away after a few moments.

“I understand, my friend," she told him kindly, rubbing his cheek. “I know Kajex understands, too. Speaking of which, where is he and his team?" she added, suddenly worried for her fiancee and their friends.

“They're safe, they've holed up in the Engineering section's mess hall," he assured her. “Despite the severity of the situation, they are hungry, and have most fortunately come across a cache of Denta beans."

“And where are we, exactly?" she asked, looking around.

“You're safe in Medical," a female voice responded. The Trianii glanced at the hatch, where a female human in medical garb had entered. “Saine Auria, I'm the chief medical officer here," she explained, holding her hand out and shaking the only paw Syrra still possessed. “As I'm sure you're aware, your friend here saved your life."

“So... I'm not infected, then? I won't become those... monstrosities, out there?" Syrra asked, shuddering.

“Correct. And I've reexamined your bloodwork- the inoculation was successful. I'm sorry we could not have administered the antivirus before you suffered your injury," she added apologetically, putting her hand on the injured Padawan's shoulder. “If it were at all possible, I would have a prosthetic fitted for you, but we don't possess any that match Trianii physiology. Nevertheless, I was able to mend your broken ankle easily."

“I appreciate your efforts all the same," Syrra responded, arching an eyebrow in slight confusion. “Forgive me, but... you come off as remarkably kind, for one working with the Imperial Remnant."

Saine smiled wryly. “I swore an oath to the Empire, true- but before then, I swore an oath to safeguard the lives of my patients to the best of my ability. And in a situation like this, my patients come first."

“How long have you been out here?" Syrra asked.

“Nearly a year- or at least, a handful of the remaining soldiers and myself have been here for nearly a year, surviving as best we can. After the initial infection, the Inquisitor that was in charge of his 'experiment', a man named Tooem, infected most of the rest of the ship with his airborne pathogen. What remains are those fortunate enough to possess a genetic disposition that protects them from the airborne strain- and their bloodwork, thankfully, allowed me to create an inoculation that prevents the infection from taking place, even from infected bites."

“Why have you held out here? Was there no other place to take refuge from?"

“This section of the ship runs on a separate, automated generator, accessible only from the interior of the medical wing, and so cannot be deactivated by Tooem and his constructs. It possesses its own galley and food stores, although we've made careful, sporadic trips to other parts of the vessel that still contain food to hold out as long as possible."

“What about the CSA? What happened to the missing ships?" Syrra asked.

“Half of the vessels stopped by the Omega-Orr were... captured," Saine replied heavily. “By the Infection."

Syrra blinked. “But... how--"

“The Blackwing virus is unique in that it is self-aware," Locke answered grimly. “It not only reanimates the dead, but is capable of learning and adapting to their environment and surrounding technology. Given enough time, I don't doubt that a horde could disable a vessel with starfighters and send dropships to infect its occupants, which is precisely what appears to have happened."

“Then why haven't we--"

“We raided every accessible armory we were able to reach within the first 3 months of the outbreak, and reclaimed the weapons the undead were using. The soldiers and personnel that have taken refuge in this wing are likely the only ones that yet possess weapons," Saine answered before she could finish. “Add that the reanimated constructs consist of bodies that have been dead for a long period of time and most are capable of only basic functions, assuming they still possess viable limbs and digits that have not completely decomposed; and what you have left are shamblers that are nevertheless tremendously strong and have no sense of pain to slow them."

Syrra shuddered as she remembered the ghoul who bit her wrist. “Yeah... I saw that part of them," she muttered quietly. “But then how did the Espos manage to get onboard?"

“When the Omega-Orr tractored in Marauder-class vessels, CorpSec Security would attempt to fight their way into the hangar in a vain attempt to deactivate the ship's tractor beams. The Infection would allow them to exit the ship, drawing them out and then overwhelming them when they were at their most exposed. This worked several times, and in each incident I issued orders to rescue whatever living beings still remained." The medical officer sighed. “There were regrettably few of them, but we did what we could. There are now only 40 of us left on this ship who are still among the living- and there's no telling how many are left within this vessel, but we can only assume it's still many hundreds, if not a few thousand. We're tried every variation of biological tracking in an attempt to monitor their numbers, but they will not show up on any."

Syrra winced. “And the missing ships?"

“They are gone. The Infection would take a container of the virus with them after each successful hijacking, and then enter hyperspace once they were well outside the influence of this vessel's gravity-wells. Cut off from the command bridge, we have no idea where they went."

“Which makes Kajex's task crucial," Locke added. “It won't be enough to get off this ship if the Blackwing virus has been unleashed on other planets. He needs to get whatever data he can from the ship's servers and return to us."

Syrra nodded, worry for her fiancee easily replacing what meager sense of loss she felt from her abrupt amputation. But hearing his name and knowing that he would need all the help he could get, cut off from the rest of the survivors, morphed that worry into motivation. Determined to do what she could despite her severe injury, the Trianii found herself throwing the covers off of her, all sense of exhaustion removed.

“Well, then we better get to work," Syrra stated matter-of-factly as she got to her feet, testing her ankle briefly.

Locke's eyes widened. “S-Syrra? But you're in no conditi--"

“Don't give me that," the Trianii cut him off sternly, folding her arms (as best she could) while frowning at him. “I lost a forearm for this, I'm not going to sit on my ass like a child, waiting for the grownups to fix everything. I'm just as much a Jedi as Kajex is- we don't take breaks just because we skinned our knees."

“With all due respect, Padawan, a missing forearm is significantly more serious that a scraped knee," Saine replied, though she looked amused and inspired by the Trianii's drive. “But you're more than welcome to help us formulate a strategy, and stand by us in a fight, if you're able to. Just be aware that if your current handicap ends up being a hindrance, I will have little choice but to have you removed to someplace safe."

The words seemed to smack reality in Syrra's face. Ready to fight against this undead scourge, she had briefly forgotten her lightsaber had been dropped back in the corridors where Locke had severed her arm. Before she could linger on this, however, another figure entered the room.

“She's fine, then?" Liam asked, looking relieved. “Excellent news, then- and not at a moment more suitable; the lieutenant in the galley says he's got a meal ready for everyone if we're hungry. We can start going over a plan of escape as we eat."

“Thank you, Officer Valcane," Saine responded.

“Oh, and before I forget- you dropped this, ma'am," he added, drawing a long, silver hilt from his belt and holding it out to the Trianii.

Syrra's ability to speak left her for a few seconds as she slowly took her lightsaber from him. When she looked up, she felt a moderate measure of shame- when she'd first met him, she had been hostile and rude, unwilling to trust the human. When he'd boarded the Gold Rush, her behavior had not been any better. And yet here was Liam, smiling at her warmly and offering her weapon back to her- there was no way he could know how personal the weapon was to her, but that had not stopped him from ensuring she had the means to defend herself. And without even asking, without her pleading for it, he had helped to save her life. She wanted to say so many things at once, to offer her apologies, to explain her previous anger, to reassure him that what he had done had improved her measure of him, to express her gratitude for it all.

Instead, overwhelmed by healthy humility and happiness, she smiled and nodded.

“Thank you, Liam, so very much."

“I think I should give you a fair warning, brother."

Kajex's ears perked up, the Sentinel freezing in place with a spoon halfway to his muzzle. “About what?" he asked warily.

“Your future wife is going to be a handful, even without a natural right paw," Locke said, chuckling.

Kajex laughed in relief, the comment helping to brighten his otherwise tense mood. Focusing on eating had been a bit difficult as the undead hordes continued to batter uselessly on the reinforced blast door at the other side. The mess hall was disorganized, yet its defense were well-established with upended dining tables laying on their sides, reinforced with cargo containers. At the opposite end of the makeshift base were a series of mattresses, no doubt pulled from the engineering crew's quarters. Kajex and his team had spent an hour searching through the area and putting blaster bolts in the heads of any corpses they came across that did not already have them, ensuring they would not be ambushed again. All that was left for the moment was to take it easy until a plan could be formulated.

But throughout it all, Kajex had waited to hear news of his mate-to-be, and this was a welcome, if brief, distraction. “Why, what did she do now?"

“There are no cybernetics on this vessel that her biology would be able to utilize, but that isn't stopping her. She's already on her feet and moving about as if nothing had happened, ready to fight at a moment's notice."

The corners of Kajex's muzzle lifted higher at the report. “Yeah... that's exactly what I'd expect from her," he responded softly, running his thumb and forefinger along the devotion beads strung in a lock of hair and staring at the sapphire-blue spheres that matched his fiancee's eyes. Pride for the Trianii Padawan swelled in the Sentinel's chest as he sighed. “Keep an eye on her all the same, alright bro? She'll need your help if we're gonna pull through."

“I shall," Locke promised. “How's Keris?"

The wolf glanced over at her- unable to stomach a complete meal, she'd opted to curl up on one of the mattresses and take a nap, snoring softly as she snuggled a pillow. “She's sleeping at the moment, was feeling a little beat; I think the stress kinda got to her. I get the sense that she's not fond of zombies."

“It's the scent, and the fear of losing her self to an outer force," Locke explained. “If you had ever been in Zorba the Hutt's whorehouse, you'd have experienced the overwhelming stench of feces and death, greater than what we smelled out there. Had I not been well-trained by the Sith, I would have been vomiting just from the stench alone. She always used to hide her fear of the undead, as much as it terrifies her. The fact that she's fighting all the same... I'm quite proud of her. I know it can't be easy."

Kajex nodded, murmuring a noise of assent as his eyes lingered upon the beautiful vixen, as she squirmed in her sleep and let out a quiet whine. “Locke, I want you to be straight with me about something."

“Go ahead?"

“Keris."

“What about her?"

“... Back on Dakua, you suggested that you should propose to her at some point, right?" There was a hush in which Locke did not respond, but Kajex did not wait for him to. “I thought it was a great idea back then. I still think it's a great idea now. So what's keeping you?"

There was a long pause as the Jedi Guardian hesitated to give his Sentinel twin an answer- Kajex could feel the trepidation in Locke, the self-doubt and fear within. Though he was no master in influencing the minds of others to achieve his own ends, he was still a master as small-scale battle meditation. With a modicum of focus the gray wolf fostered trust and confidence in his brother, hoping the gesture would help Locke form an honest response. Before long, the Guardian finally answered.

“With everything that's been happening so far: Keris and I becoming Jedi students, you and I discovering our genetic relation and finding our own kin, discovering more about ourselves; it's been hard to find the right moment to tell her I want to marry her, spend the rest of my life with her. I've wanted to say it for 2 years, but now... being a Jedi, that dream has never been closer."

“I agree," Kajex replied. “So if the dream is so close, why aren't you grabbing it? Look at what happened to Syrra, Locke- we were so close to losing her. If she'd died and I'd never told her I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her... you shouldn't hold it off until it's too late. I did that with Rik, and it still hurts a little."

“I guess I fear the rejection," Locke answered softly. “I'm blessed enough to finally have a family, something I've lacked my entire life. To take a step farther and have a mate of my own... almost seems too good to be true, for someone like me." The Guardian sighed. “I saved her life, yes, but beyond that what have I really done for her to deserve her love?"

“Trained her to protect herself- even if those lessons were Sith teachings," Kajex answered without missing a beat. “Safeguarding her life, putting her as a priority ahead of you and encouraging her to follow a path of light instead of remaining a Sith apprentice. Don't sell yourself short, bro- you have a hell of lot going for you to be doubting yourself."

“I appreciate you saying so," Locke said, sounding grateful.

“This is what you're going to do, Locke," Kajex added. “When this is all over, and by that I mean when this Inquisitor Tooem bastard is in cuffs or in pieces, you're going to take Keris aside, get on your knee and ask her to be your mate, you hear me?"

“But I--"

“Locke?" Kajex cut him off with a grin. “You said you might do it on Dakua. Do you really expect me to believe you spent that week on Corellia without actually looking for and finding something appropriate to propose to her with?"

There was another long pause. “... I found... I mean, it's just an uncut Nabooian emerald," Locke said uncertainly. “But... it's culturally significant to Amaran, and it reminded me of her eyes, so I thought I'd spend time in the workshop using the Force to cut it, you know?"

The Sentinel fought back a laugh, noticing that Keris was starting to stir. “Trust me, she'll love it even if it's still rough. If you need help doing it, Talrik, Miles and I will force you onto your knees and make you do it, alright?"

Locke laughed. “Very well. I... I'll take a chance, Kajex."

“Now go get some grub, bro- I can feel you on the other end, you're starving. Take care of yourself."

“You as well," Locke answered, before the transmission was deactivated.

Now nearly alone in silence, Kajex leaned back against the barricade, taking in a deep breath and dropping into a light meditation. With so much banking on him, Keris, Talrik and Rook, he needed a moment to center himself.

After a moment, he opened an eye, looking around.

“... Where the hell are those two, anyway?"

Talrik had noticed Rook slipping away moments after finishing her meal, muttering something about needing to use the fresher. Though it was understandable enough, it soon dawned on him that it was not a good idea for any of them to be alone for any period of time, so he had gotten up while Kajex was speaking to Locke to figure out where the Selonian had gone to. As certain as he was that the Mandalorian-trained otter was capable of taking care of herself, he did not want to take any chances- particularly since the two had, in the space of two and a half weeks, become very close friends and lovers.

So the moment his keen ears caught the sound of the otter squeaking in pain, his heart had leapt in his chest and he found himself sprinting in the direction of the noise. He darted into the refresher room, rifle raised and ready to take out any contacts- only to come across the sight of the otter cursing and rubbing her forehead as a graywater faucet filled the basin she was using.

“Motherfuckin' kark-steppin' bastard bitch FUCK--" she stopped short in the middle of her tirade, eyes widening as Talrik stared at her. It took only a few moments for him to scan the immediate area and confirm that they were alone, as which point he lowered his weapon and prompted the otter to sigh in relief. “Hey there, mate."

“Hey," the fox responded, letting out a similar sigh of relief as he leaned against the far wall and slid down to the floor into a sitting position. “Scared me for a second there. I heard your voice, sounded like you were in trouble- everything alright?"

The otter nodded, taking a moment to splash some water into her face and shake it off rapidly. “Yeah, I'm fine, fox-boy. Just bumped my head against the faucet, hurt like a motherfucker for a bit." With her face relatively dry, she slipped her headset back on, wiping her nose briefly before seating herself next to the Antarian Ranger. “Don't gotta worry about me, ner bur'cya," she chided him gently. “I can take care of myself."

“So could Syrra," Talrik countered sadly, “and now she's missing her right paw. I'm not taking any chances with the people I care about- that's not how the pack should work."

The otter smiled appreciatively, scooting closer to him. “I ain't a member of yer pack yet, Talrik," she reminded him. “Ain't slept with anybody but you."

He shook his head, though he smiled back. “That's not what it's about. But I know you have your own clan anyway." He paused. “You miss them at all?"

“Ah... I dunno, mate," she admitted after a few moments of hesitation. “I talk about my dad like he's all great, and he really is- didn't matter to him that he was human and I was Selonian, he really was my father, y'know? But the rest of the clan? Let's just say I didn't always get on with them like I should."

“Why's that? Did they not see you as family?"

“Nah, they saw me as family," she acknowledged with an ironic smile, “but that don't always mean families get along with each other. By Selonian standards I'd be seen as a 3-day runt; the kind of pup that would've died in 3 days out of neglect, because why waste time and energy feeding the smallest and weakest in the entire litter? But even to some of my clan, I was the runt as a kid- always gettin' left behind during a hunt, always comin' up short and gettin' shit from them for it. Wasn't until my verd'goten, my rite of passage, when I started shinin'."

“I find that a little hard to believe," Talrik said, cocking his head to the side in surprise. He had figured that, despite her size, she had always been as capable and skilled as she seemed, unable to see her as being any less than a steadfast warrior- even now, during her first mission with the Gold Rush pack, she was keeping in step with everyone else and contributing marvelously. “You just don't strike me as the kind of person who struggles with anything, really."

Rook blushed at the compliment, but chuckled. “I appreciate you thinkin' so, but trust me, mate- I have my shortcomings. Remember when I said my dad assigned me as a team leader to hunt down members of Death Watch?" Talrik nodded. “I didn't get that assignment until after I started showin' up the entire clan, once I started usin' my head in tandem with what little strength I had." She sighed, bumping her head against the wall. “But I got a lot of resentment for it, y'know? My dad was all proud of me, his baby lass finally showing what she could do, but my other 'brothers' and 'sisters' didn't warm up to me so much, always expecting me to fail later; and the more I succeeded, the more bitter they got."

“Doesn't seem like the supportive type of family," Talrik remarked softly.

“Not really," Rook agreed, looking hesitant. “In fact... I'm kinda envious for your pack."

“Why's that?"

“They don't stop trainin', for one; and they watch out for each other, for another. Even when you guys argue, you don't hold grudges. And I ain't seen an instance where you guys run from a fight unless it's outta pragmatism."

“Like running away from the living dead?" Talrik asked with a chuckle.

“Pretty much," she replied with a grin. “There's a phrase we use for those with more guts than sense- 'kaysh mirsh solus', which means 'their remaining brain cell is lonely'. But you guys don't seem like that at all, not from everything you've told me- you sure as hell aren't, ready to fight even if you don't like violence. And all of you are more about family than you are about glory. I kinda wish I'd met you guys earlier, to be honest- and not just because I like the kind of relationship I have with you," she added, putting her paw on his.

Talrik smiled at the gesture, her touch almost making him forget the dire situation the ship was in. “May we survive it to enjoy it longer- though I hope you don't mind my other physical relationships with Kajex, Miles and everyone else, right?"

The otter blushed harder. “Not at all- wouldn't wanna take you from your family, mate. Besides... truth be told, I'm kinda curious what it's like when either of them tops ya. And I'd be lyin' if I said I wasn't turned on watchin' you and Keris, either."

That drew a chuckle from the fox as he leaned in and nuzzled into her neck, making her chirp and purr as he nipped and licked at her fur. “Stick around for a while and maybe you'll get to see more. I know they won't mind you watching- or joining, for that matter."

“Mmm... yeah? Well... maybe I'll take you up on that," she suggested shyly, snuggling into him. The two held each other for a while as they traded affection, culminating in the two kissing gently- even in the cold darkness they had found themselves, they could find warmth and comfort in each other.

Much as Talrik wanted to continue, however, it wasn't long before they could hear Kajex calling out their names from somewhere near, causing him to sigh. “Duty calls, sounds like," he said dully.

“Cheer up, love," Rook advised him warmly as she got up and helped him to his feet. “I promise I'll watch your tail free of charge- I like the butt it's attached to."

“Why the hell do we need to take orders from some alien fucks that were stupid enough to get on this damned ship in the first place?!"

“Because, cadet," Saine snapped, “these 'alien fucks' are Jedi, and are the only ones to possess codes to access the ship; which is the only way we're getting off this Force-forsaken vessel!" She regarded Locke and Syrra apologetically. “I apologize for their behavior- please take a seat.

Locke nodded, doing his absolute best to refrain from sighing as he complied and aided Syrra, now wearing an arm-sling, into a seat before standing next to the medical officer. They had convened in the lobby, which had been converted into a makeshift war-room where a crowd of Imperial stormtroopers and CorpSec Security Police had been waiting after their meal. The white wolf was no stranger to 'anti-alien' sentiments- even as a Sith Knight he had experienced his fair share of racism from Imperial officers, and he had no delusions that it would change when he took up the path of the Jedi Guardian. Even so, in a situation so dire, Locke had hoped the remaining survivors would be more receptive to suggestions. At the very least, some of the Espos and a handful of other stormtroopers were ready to hear them out.

Saine waited until her stern glare caused the noises of dissent to cease before she started. “We know the escape pods are all exhausted, and we know our food supplies are finite. Even with the reduced population, the consumables on this ship will only last so long; and every day we remain on this vessel is another chance one of us will die- or worse, be turned into one of the monstrosities lingering the corridors. We are being given a chance at rescue. At this point, those of us who have sworn oaths to the Empire should seriously question if they are deserving of our loyalty, particularly if they knew about this operation. Either way, I would find it incredibly stubborn if we didn't consider an avenue of escape that relied upon the Republic and it's Jedi allies. So ask yourselves- do you really want to stay on this fucking ship another day just because you can't let go of your pride?"

Silence.

“... I thought not."

A sharp crackle in the lobby's speaker system startled them. “Alright, I'm here," Kajex informed them, his voice reverberating in the room. “You got your speakers set to hear us, Officer?"

“We do, though I'm concerned whether we might be subjected to eavesdropping."

“Don't gotta worry about that, ma'am," Rook cut in. “Got a merc scrambler attached to the Gold Rush to code out transmissions. The only people what'll hear what we're saying is us."

“Very well," Saine replied approvingly. “Now, with the weapons we've been able to locate over the months we should be able to make it to the hangar with minimal losses, assuming we move quickly and hit hard. But it's not enough to mount an attempt to get the ship's captain and his team to the ship."

“Why not leave 'em?" the cadet angrily piped up once again- Locke recognized the argumentative soldier as the one who had struck the him when they had first arrived.

“Shut the fuck up and let her finish, cadet!" Miles barked, the ex-lieutenant's military training coming into the forefront. Clearly hearing the drill-instructor tone in his voice, the cadet complied immediately.

“We're not leaving until my team and I can get back to the Gold Rush," Kajex said resolutely. “And that isn't happening until I can access either the ship's servers or the bridge computers and determine the hyperspace trajectories of every ship that the Infection has claimed. This is important- the last thing any star system should have to put up with is what you guys have had to put up with for nearly a year."

“Wouldn't wish this on any man," one of the Espos said loud and clear, to which many of the other soldiers responded with murmurs of agreement. “What about that Inquisitor bastard?" he asked. “We should toss his Sith ass to the freaks out there and let them tear him to pieces!" This remark got a louder, more enthusiastic response.

“Much as I would like that," Saine replied as the troops settled down, “we must assume there are hundreds, if not thousands of undead constructs between us and him. And in the event that we should overcome that nigh insurmountable obstacle, what then? He's a Sith Inquisitor, he will likely be more than a match for us. We would be better-suited getting to the vessel and... calling for the Republic Navy for assistance," she finished cautiously.

“You wouldn't be arrested," Locke assured them quickly as a few of the troopers looked at each other nervously. “I've been told none of you were aware of the project's existence beyond mere barracks rumors. At worst, the NRI would want to question you about the particulars of your time on this vessel, and the infection you encountered."

“We'd be branded traitors," one of the stormtroopers claimed dully.

“Assuming the Imperial Remnant would endorse this Sith-led project," Syrra pointed out. “Do you think your Grand Moffs would ever support this kind of biological weapon, when it's already taken so many Imperial lives?" This argument drew murmurs of reluctant agreement from the nodding soldiers.

“Okay, but what about jamming signals and tractor beams?" one of the CorpSec Espos asked. “Getting the ship would be great if we could just fly out of here, but the grav-wells would prevent a blind hyperspace jump, the tractor beams would stick us back in the hangar, and jamming signals would prevent us from calling for Republic or Imperial assistance."

"That's why we're going to split into three squads," Saine informed them. “As I understand it, sabotaging the reactor would put the entire ship at risk and make it difficult for Sentinel Surnahm and his team to return before it goes critical. As he is the closest to the reactor, he would also likely be put in the most danger. Damaging separate ship systems, however, will minimize the damage and force the Infection to divide if they wish to intercept. One squad will head to the foremost section and use remote explosives to take out the jamming systems to allow us to call for support; another will head to and disable both tractor beam arrays on the port and starboard sides, to allow us to leave and either make it to hyperspace or get out of jamming range. Be it the will of the Force, we may even succeed in taking out both at once."

Kajex chimed in. "The third squad will make for the Gold Rush and get her warmed up, ideally using the cannons to keep the hangar clear. Syrra, I know you can still operate as a co-pilot even short one paw, but I'm going to have Locke take my place in the pilot's seat, alright?" Kajex informed her.

"I understand, love," she agreed.

"How are we expected to fight through so many of those undead fuckers?" one of the Espos asked.

One of the Imperials, a tan-skinned female wearing a seat of dirty coveralls instead of stormtrooper armor, answered. "We got about a dozen repulsorlift-stretchers in this area- I can rig them to hover low so we can fit the heavy cannon tripods on them. It'd give us some better firepower on the go."

"How long will that take?" Kajex asked.

"For the eight cannons we have? If I get some help, maybe four hours, tops."

"You'll have all of the next twelve hours to get them ready, before the Sentinel makes his move to retrieve the data he needs," Saine informed her. "Anyone with engineering experience is advised to give her a hand; everyone else, take the time to rest, pray, get one last bite to eat, while I go over the plans with the Jedi." She paused for a moment. "It is likely that some of us may not survive this- and a chance that all of us may fall. If there are any among you who would like for someone to perform last rites for your culture before we begin, what remains of the medical staff and I will be more than happy to oblige."

"Sentinel, best you and your team get some rest- you'll be in the thick of it tomorrow."

"We will," Kajex assured her. "May the Force be with you."

'Silence' was a word Keris did not like in the slightest. Having been raised by a trader and taught to haggle, buy and sell, and being a part of an active lifestyle had suited her, had matched the fire in her veins. That fire had coalesced into a warmth that she shared with her former Sith-instructor, leading to a light she had loved even in the middle of the darkness. Even now as a Jedi, that fire persisted, had grown as she became a part of the pack, a family she and her lover had never expected to have. In the stillness of silence, often demanded of her from members of the Circle, she was left alone to brood on her thoughts; which often led her to think about things she'd rather not face. She wanted action, the ability to make a difference, to help the people she loved.

And it was this drive she was experiencing that was compelling her to train, even now.

Focus.

A deep breath, half of it exhaled, and she started. Influencing others through the Force, unconsciously, had been a trick she'd learned by herself without effort and had applied in tandem with her physical charm. With a modicum of extra effort, she could cause distractions. More concentration, and the perceptions of others would be tricked. But what she wanted to attempt, was trying to attempt even now, seemed so far beyond her, so out of reach.

Whatever you're attempting, a gentle voice offered, still yourself first. You alone can't do it- you need the Force.

To hear the Trianii's thoughts, to know her best friend and lover was thinking of her, watching her, and was ready to support her even as injured as she was, made the vixen's heart sing, caused her to relax and deepen her immersion in the light she fell into. On the fringes of her perception, she was aware that Talrik and Rook had entered the mess hall, where she was meditating; off to the side was Kajex, arms crossed as he monitored her progress; beyond the blast doors, shrouded in the shadows, she could sense the stirrings of the Infection ambling through the corridors; and moments later, a new presence emerged.

She, or it, simply came into existence, seemingly springing from the floor in front of her and floating gently towards Kajex, as the wolf straightened and his eyes widened. She stood before him, a female Amaran in a green, sleeveless coverall, brown boots and gloves- a precise duplicate of herself. A rush of excitement, elation beyond words, filled Keris' sense, causing her to struggle to keep them under control as she attempted to move the illusion around him. She watched as she controlled it, as it circled the wolf and smiled, winked; with a playfulness she couldn't quite contain, the illusion's hips swayed with each step, mirroring the seductive training she'd learned on Nar Shaddaa as her tail flicked around. Both Talrik and Rook stopped dead in their tracks as they noticed the vixen's illusion, unable to believe what they were seeing- to them, it was as if a long-lost twin of the vixen's had suddenly appeared, while the original remained seated and meditated.

… You have a talent for making yourself look so sexy, Syrra commented flirtatiously.

Yet despite her inner pride, the illusion became more difficult to project as the seconds wore on, her mental endurance starting to wane. Before long, she withdrew from the Force, gasping and leaning forward in exhaustion. Within moments, Kajex rushed to her side, kneeling and holding her upright. "You okay, kit?" he asked with a look of concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she reassured him, smiling widely despite her temporary exhaustion. "Did... did I do it? Or was I just imagining it?"

"Do what?" Rook asked with a tone of amazement as she and Talrik approached. "Make a clone of yourself walk around Kaj like she was ready to give 'im a lap dance? Cuz that's what I saw!"

"You did it, Keris," the Sentinel informed her with a look of pride. "Locke'll be so proud you managed to pull it off."

"Think it'll help with this undead bullshit?" Keris asked, catching her breath.

"Hard to say, I'm afraid. I'm no expert at Force illusions, but they're meant to fool the senses of those with lesser minds. You're as smart as they come, and deeply driven, but this Infection...? I suppose that depends on how their minds work." He held his paw out, helping her to her feet. "But don't worry- it's still an impressive feat, to learn how to pull it off so soon."

"I've been practicing that for a couple of weeks, but... I felt like if tonight is my last night alive, then I should at least say I was able to do it once before I bite it, y'know?"

"You're not gonna bite it," Kajex said firmly, squeezing her shoulder. "I promised my brother I'd keep you safe until we're all together again, and that's what I'm gonna do." The wolf smiled down at her. "Besides, he has something he wants to tell you in person, and everyone should be there."

The vixen blinked, confused. "But... wh--"

"Not right now," Kajex advised her. "Locke's the one who wants to tell you. Anyway, we have 12 hours before we all move out, we should try to get some rest between now and then," he suggested.

"Want we should take first watch, boss?" Rook asked, smiling at the two.

"If you need a breather first, I ca--"

"It's fine- we got this," Rook cut him off, punching Talrik in the shoulder playfully. "We'll, ah... we'll figure out a way to keep ourselves awake, and get you guys up in a few hours."

"Good enough," the Sentinel said approvingly. "Then Keris and I will get the first nap in."

"I doubt that," Talrik muttered beneath his breath as the two turned away, snickering.

Keris arched an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked indignantly.

Kajex chuckled. "I think they expect us to spend the first hour of 'sleeping' getting a quick fuck in."

The vixen cocked her head, ears perked up. "Well... yeah?"

"… Wait, you want to... with me?" Kajex paused. "But--"

" Somebody will need to keep her occupied while I'm not there," Locke's mental voice echoed in the Sentinel's head, an undercurrent of amusement present beneath it.

"Yes, if this is going to be our last night alive," Syrra intoned warmly, "we may as well have one last moment with those we love, after all."

With a smile having formed at these words, Kajex pulled the vixen Padawan in closer. "I suppose they have a point, don't they?"