Ask Geonosis Dying Light

[Ryder Blane]

Derelict space station, Near Geonosis, Arkanis sector

“There is nothing so patient, in this world or any other, as a virus searching for a host.”​

― Mira Grant​

The story went that the Old Empire once set up shop here. The space station, floating above a verdant moon, was once slave quarters for workers on the first Death Star—most of them Wookiees kidnapped from Kashyyyk. The corridors of the place still smelled like them too, even through the filter on Ten's mask. But there was another stench beneath the heavy, musty odor of wet Wookiee fur. It was the offensive scent of rot and decay, strong, pungent, and sour, which made his face pinch beneath his helmet.

A smell like death.

Whispers had reached the Unknown Regions, where the Sith Eternal lurked, of a virulent strain of bacteria that rapidly killed its victim and repurposed their bodies into a vessel of rotting flesh ravenous in its hunger. Such reports weren't entirely bizarre. Ten was taught the history of the Sith as a child and knew that such abominations were possible. But the Sith were dead, and their magics went to the Void with them. So, what were these creatures, if they truly existed? That was his mission. A mission he was beginning to regret.

In the days since the Empire, the old slave station had served as a prison for the First Order and later for a band of Imperial loyalists operating off of the nearby Sentinel Moon. According to the records Ten found on Geonosis, the strain that wiped out some of the last remaining Geonosian hives had come from this station. Perhaps Imperial sympathizers antagonizing the locals? Ten couldn't be sure. But, judging from the look of the place (and the smell), there was nobody alive on this station—which was strange. He had picked up an interesting distress signal coming from the station on his way into the system. That had to mean someone was alive.

...Right?

The inside of the station was dark. So dark, he was forced to switch to low-light mode on his helmets HUD. Dread coiled in his belly like fingers into a fist. He had found nothing on Geonosis; but he strongly suspected that would not be the case here. @Feng Mian

 

[Lyra]

Lyra heard the rumors before. The dead rising, starved for nothing but flesh and blood. It was a disease that had swept the edges of the Outer-Rim, leaping from one waystation to another. At least, according to survivors, few as they were. The Free Worlds Alliance, and many more in the Jedi Order, had brushed aside the threat like it was nothing more than a few pirate raids. The real threat was the Sith revival, they said. The real threat was in the Core, not outside of it.

Lyra disagreed. Which was why she came to the station ready to confront the unknown disease. She only hoped she didn’t fall victim to it too.

The heavy musk of death hit her head, to the point where she had to hold her breath in strange intervals to stave off that growing sickness in her stomach. There was a terrible darkness surrounding the station, both literal and metaphysical, like the Force was screaming at her to turn back into her ship and leave immediately. As much as she wanted to now, Lyra couldn’t be weak.

She activated her lightsaber, and its blue glow filled the chamber.

She wandered the halls, her eyes never sticking to one place, afraid that she might stumble into an undead creature, or a possessed stranger, or a patrolling pirate. Almost tiptoeing, she turned around the corner and came across something much, much worse.

Near the hall’s end was a masked man, armored head to toe, with a striking resemblance to a Sith. An enemy she had heard about from Oren, seen on the news, and even met in person on an excursion to Yavin IV. Her eyes narrowed onto the shadow.

“Who are you?” she said, but she already knew his answer. No, she felt it.

@Malon

 

[Ryder Blane]

Ten was immediately thankful for his training as a child. Any surprise he would have felt at bumping into a Jedi on a derelict space station was replaced by adrenaline and action. The electrostaff in his dominant hand suddenly roared to life, spitting wide arcs of vermillion bolts down its two bulbous heads. He had other weapons, of course; but this was the best when combating Jedi.

"You're a long way from home, little Jedi," he said through the Purge Trooper mask over his face. "And, unfortunately for you, there will be no making it back."

He twisted the staff and twirled it as one of his brethren might a saberstaff. The weapon hummed and crackled in a defensive arc in front of him. The dark side burned like a cold fire in his muscles; but, in his mind, it was as thin and sharp as the head of a needle. The unnecessary thoughts and doubts were gone. His mind was on the coming battle and nothing more.

This was how Ten was trained. He could not use the Force like the Jedi. There would be no telekinetic magic, nor Sith lightning flying from his fingertips. But what he lacked in Jedi spells, he more than made up for in raw physical talent. To demonstrate this, he crossed the corridor—the yawning space between them—with such speed he doubted the girl saw him move at all. And then he was swinging one end of the staff down like a sledge hammer towards her head.

The impact from such a blow would make a smashed melon out of her head. But he knew she would block it. She was a Jedi. Fast as he was, she had the Force and it would guide her arms. The true purpose of his speed, then, was to give her little time to build her strength. Without the Force in her arms, a telekinetic push at this range would be light as a feather and the strength of any block would easily be smashed through.

How will you react? he wondered, excitement alight in his belly. What will you do, Jedi? @Feng Mian

 

[Lyra]

Lyra shouldn’t have been surprised the man ignored her question. Last time she came face to face with a Sith, her questions went unanswered too. What did she expect? Introductions, smalltalk, negotiations? Lyra understood the Dark Side of the Force enough to know that there would be no room for diplomacy. Already, she could feel the coldness radiating from his presence, the same feeling she experienced when she first found her kyber crystal.

Except this time, she knew how to deal with it.

She raised her lightsaber and moved into a defensive stance. “Think again, Sith.”

Lyra beckoned for him to approach. Like any Sith, she knew he’d be the first to strike. The same had went for the man she encountered on Yavin IV, and because of his pride and arrogance, she had managed to escape him. However, she had no intentions to turn tail and run again. It had been years since her last encounter. Years of training and discipline built up to this moment. Lyra was ready.

Then she wasn’t.

The Sith moved at an unnatural speed, nothing like she’d ever seen before. One moment, he was a fair distance down the corridor. In the next, he was feet in front of her, his cackling staff raised and descending on top of her. Lyra sucked in a breath. In a split second, she narrowly dodged the blow, to the point where several strands of her hair singed under the burn and snap of his saberstaff.

Lyra had moved to the man’s right, and with both hands on her lightsaber, she swept it around to slash him through his open waist. Since he had thrown almost all of his strength into his blow, she was counting on her own to land. However, after witnessing his earlier speed, she seriously doubted an easy win.

For now, she’d stay on her toes, ready for what he might throw her way next.

@Malon

 

[Ryder Blane]

Ten's thoughts were emptying by the second as he gave himself over to the Force. The impact of his electrostaff on the ground was enough to dent the durasteel alloy plating it was composed from; but even throwing that much strength behind his attack hadn't slowed him. He twisted the staff around and pivoted to face his Jedi enemy, and the end of his electrified staff met her incoming blade.

The sound was not like that of a lightsaber clashing with another. It was more violent and the electricity from his staff danced across her blade.

He batted her blade away with ease. It was heavier than the thin blade of energy that composed her weapon and he had physical strength she lacked. Then he swept the staff hard at her legs, aiming to take her feet out from underneath her. It was a good tactic: emptying his mind so that he could focus solely on what he had always been trained to do, which was kill Jedi and their sympathizers...

...but the strategy had its downfall. The noise they were making had attracted attention elsewhere. The sounds of their battle had woken the dead. Deep inside the space station, a scream ripped through the blackness. Another, farther away, answered it. The two dueling Force-wielders would not hear it over their clashing weapons, but the rest of the dead heard.

The screams meant a meal had come to them. Two more bodies for their army. And by the time both realized it...

...there would be little chance for an escape. @Feng Mian

 

[Lyra]

The Jedi could smell the musk of death about him. The stench of rotting flesh, and rusted iron, an odor only blood could give. Little did she know the smell was coming from elsewhere inside the station, down the intersecting corridors they now clashed in, from the mangled bodies of the undead who made their slow and terrible approach.

Lyra sucked in a breath as her lightsaber met the end of his staff. Static popped and yellow electricity snapped at her blade, like lashes from an unchecked fire. She could feel the fury and the hatred burning inside her enemy too, growing with each passing moment between them. His strength, the power of the Dark Side, was an overwhelming shadow she struggled to escape from.

Already, Lyra was forced back a few paces, desperate to regain her footing.

Her eyes flicked down to see his staff sweep around to her ankles. At the last moment, Lyra brought her saber low and caught the strike inches from her right leg. It took all her might to hold him back, but she knew better than to engage in a battle of strength to beat the Sith. He was stronger and she knew it. Thankfully, he used the Force sparingly, only to enhance his speed and power. Lyra had other means for it.

She raised an open palm and let the Force fly, slamming into the Sith’s armored chest to push him into the wall. She needed to get him off her. To recoup.

Once he was off her, she flourished her lightsaber and moved into another stance. An unusual stance mixed between defense and offense. Something neither Oren or Yoddle had taught her, but learned from the many books she read in the Jedi archives.

Eyes narrowed on the man, she goaded him. “Is that the best you can do?”

@Malon it's heating up!

 

[Ryder Blane]

The Sith flew backwards into the wall and struck it hard. A resounding, metal gong that vibrated through the adjacent corridors and awoke more of the dead. The impact cracked the back plating of his armor and knocked the wind of him. But the damage was momentary, the pain fleeting.

Beneath his helmet, he grinned. "No, Jedi."

He removed the helmet revealing a young man just shy of thirty. He had a scruffy face and a head of curly blonde hair, which was raised like a faux hawk. A few more clicks. Armor plates fell away. Below them, a black undertunic mimicked the Jedi's own. The Sith left his utility belt intact and reached for an object belted on the back of it.

"I've only just begun to show you what I can do." The object was a lightsaber hilt. Crudely constructed, but functional. The Sith thumbed the ignition stud and a blade the color of blood burst from his fist—lit up his grin and blended with the fire in his eyes.

He was done playing. The Force gathered to him like a faucet filling a vase. Then he lunged, twisting in mid-air with a guttural screech. And, when he landed, he stabbed a probing jab at her defenses, searching for a weakness. @Feng Mian