The Anchorage
Lower Corridors
Esstran Sector
Deep Space
39 ABY


Static.

Dracaryis tightened the grip on his commlink in frustration. Ten minutes had passed since his strike team should have checked in. He looked up and down the darkened corridors. These are the lowest and least explored areas of the station, Dracaryis thought to himself. Perhaps the walls are designed to hinder comm systems.

Dracaryis clipped his commlink to the belt on his armor, closed his eyes, and attempted to contact Ra’gnar through the Force.

Where are you?

He felt Ra’gnar’s presence from within the depths of his mind. Drac, we’re trapped. Drax has the command center locked down, and he’s reinforced it with troops and a couple of Force Users that I don’t recognize. The rest of your team is here. Have you found a way to shut down the station’s power so we can get the doors open?

Not yet. Hold your position and keep Drax occupied. I’ll keep working on a way to cut the power. Dracaryis opened his eyes, severing the telepathic link between himself and the Obelisk. Gripping his lightsaber, he set off along the corridor in search of the main power control room.

Minutes passed. Dracaryis stretched out with his mind, channeling all the energy he could into locating the ancient station’s power source. Twisting and turning through the labyrinth of corridors, he felt a little like a wamprat in a maze. His mind began to cloud as frustration took hold. A power source for a station this size should not have been difficult to find…why couldn’t he sense it? Doubt suddenly seized the Sith. How could he do this task alone? The success of the entire operations main objective, the capture of the Anchorage, rested on his shoulders. He couldn’t do it…he would never make it…

Dracaryis shook his head and immediately came to his senses. It’s the effects of Battle Meditation…there’s another Dark Jedi somewhere nearby! Dracaryis stopped dead in his tracks, and kneeled down. Closing his eyes, he began to sense his surroundings, now searching not for the power source, but for the enemy Force user attempting to hinder his mission. His breathing slowed…his concentration narrowed…and suddenly, through the Force he found his target: Another Dark Jedi, two corridors away.

Got you…

Dracaryis stood. Readying his saber, he moved cautiously along the deserted corridor. His quarry was only a few rooms away from where he now stood. Had the other Dark Jedi noticed his presence? He reached the room where the other Sith stood. He recognized the man’s presence now. Dracaryis ignited his blade, and opened the door. There, standing in the center of the room, his face illuminated by the red glow from his own saber, stood Evoroth Stigaryl.

“You.” Dracaryis growled.

“Hello, Aedile.” The Zabrak surveyed Dracaryis carefully. “It’s been a long time.”

Dracaryis looked upon the yellow-skinned Sith with disgust. “Not long enough. I’ve wondered what happened to you. You disappeared during the War, and we assumed you dead. Teylas will be…interested… to know what happened to his apprentice.”

Evoroth smiled maliciously. “I sensed my old master. Where is he?”

“You already know the answer to that, friend.” Dracaryis tightened the grip on his saber. “You also know that he won’t be pleased to find you here, fighting against him.”

The Zabrak laughed. “That doesn’t matter. Your fleet is outnumbered, your strike team is fighting a losing battle at the control room, and you will never make it to the main power substation. Xander Drax controls Clan Plagueis now. Vivackus is finished.”

Dracaryis shifted his weight, watching the Zabrak’s every move. “We shall see. How fitting, that we should meet. Both from Tatooine, both former slaves, both Sith.” Dracaryis readied his saber. “One of us will not leave this room alive.” And with that, Dracaryis charged.

The flurry of sabers illuminated the room in flashes of red and silver. Evoroth and Dracaryis were equally matched, both men dodging, parrying and countering the other’s movements in a deadly dance. With each crash of saber upon saber, the two Sith attempted to maneuver themselves into position to deliver a killing blow. Locking blades, the two men channeled the Force at the exact same time, both men attempting to push the other away. Their energy met between them, and both were blasted back against the opposite walls. Leaping to his feet, Dracaryis stretched out his hand and lifted Evoroth from the ground. His mind snaked out from his fingertips, tendrils of thought and energy wrapping around the Zabraks throat.

“Where is the main power substation?” Dracaryis demanded, applying constant pressure to the other Sith’s carotid artery.

Gasping for air, his face shifting from yellow to deep orange due to lack of oxygen, Evoroth said, “let me go, and I’ll tell you.”

Dracaryis slackened his grip on Evoroth’s throat, but did not fully release him. “Tell me now, or die.”

Evoroth closed his eyes. Suddenly, the floor and walls of the room began to shake. Dracaryis watched as equipment ripped from the walls of the room, and quickly released his grip on Evoroth to dodge the onslaught of twisted metal suddenly hurled at him by the Zabrak’s desperate attempt to escape his grip.

Evoroth crashed to the floor, gasping and wheezing as he brought himself to his feet. Igniting his saber, he rounded on Dracaryis, who was also rising from the floor having just narrowly escaped a premature burial under the mass of durasteel Evoroth had launched at him.

Evoroth raised his saber over his head and charged, his face twisted in malice and hatred. Dracaryis reacted instinctively. With all the energy he could muster, Dracaryis hurled his saber at the oncoming Zabrak. For a split second, Evoroth’s face split into a look of triumph, immediately replaced by a look dread. Stopping dead in his tracks, lightsaber still held aloft, he looked down to see the silver hilt of Dracaryis’ lightsaber protruding from his chest.

Dracaryis brought himself to his feet as Evoroth fell to his knees. He reached out and recalled his lightsaber, violently removing it from the Zabrak’s chest. He then took Evoroth’s lightsaber and hitched it to his belt.

“I think Teylas will be wanting this back.”

Dracaryis then watched as life left his enemy’s face. Kicking the body aside, Dracaryis moved back into the darkened corridor, continuing his search for the main power control substation.

NiteDawn 12925
Anchorage Shuttle – Fleeing From the Attack
39 ABY

INT – Shuttle:
“This is no place to have gotten engine trouble,” Trooper A grumbled as he involuntarily ducked as another assault shuttle flew way to close to him. His own shuttle, which he had stolen, was damaged and lacking engine control, he had gotten one good burst of thrust out of it, but that was it. He had cleared the landing deck and then the engines whined a death wail.

“Figures this would be my luck,” A voice said from behind trooper A.

Trooper A jumped out of the pilot seat blaster drawn aiming directly at the person who was an unwelcome passenger in the shuttle. “And you are?” He asked noticing a blaster was also pointed at his face.

“Just a person wanting out of this mess,” The man said motioning with his head towards the plasteel window of the shuttle. The battle was still raging around them, something neither wanted to be in.

“Uh huh,” Trooper A was not convinced, “So if I say hand over your blaster you would do…?”
The man flipped the blaster expertly having the barrel now pointed at him the rest laying on his palm. Trooper A didn’t dare believe it, he carefully reached for the blaster with his hand that wasn’t holding the blaster and took the weapon, never breaking eye contact.

“Name?” Trooper A said now pointing both blasters at the intruder.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Trooper A could almost hear the eye roll in the persons helmet.

Trooper A smiled at the luck the person had, most people in the Galaxy, yeah they might be surprised by a few things, not him. His life read like a fantasy novel from a drunk author who wrote fanfiction for a living (no the author who is writing this is not drunk). “Try me.”

The man visibly sighed, “Casualty 77.” He waited for the shot, the laughter, or the confused harrumph from the person he was sharing the shuttle with, but Trooper A actually smiled.

“Graduating class of…” Trooper A prompted.

“We were the last class, just before the Battle of Yavin ended.”

“You don’t look 60 years old.”

“How can you tell?” 77 asked. He was still in full armor.

“Because I don’t, and I am ten years your senior.” Trooper A said letting down the blasters. Stupid move as 77 took that opportunity to jump him. Trooper A found the opposing wall very unforgiving towards his squishy body which didn’t have the luxury of hard armor at the moment. Ignoring the ringing in his ears Trooper A grabbed his assailant and slammed him against the roof of the shuttle knocking the wind out of him.

77 couldn’t believe the strength. He felt his armor crack from the impact. He tried knocking the griping hands off him, but they held firm. He tried to get a breath into his lungs, but the pressure was too great on his chest. A quick move by Trooper A launched 77 to the back of the shuttle.
77 saw stars certainly, but more concerning was the unfriendly glare from Trooper A and the two blasters that were back in his hands. He was keeping his distance this time. “Best two out of three?”

“No thanks,” 77 said raising his hands in surrender. He slowly got up, his stomach disagreed with his choice as well as his head. He removed his helmet to help him breathe better, it wasn’t helping as he noticed the dent in his chest armor.

Trooper A wanted to check his eyes, he was looking into a mirror. The helmet revealed his face, well, minus some scarring but before the Old Hag, he looked just like that.

“Uh,” Trooper A said articulating his inability to form words.

“Surprised?” 77 Said with a smile. “We all look like this,” He said gesturing with his hands. “Why else didn’t a shoot you? I had the drop on you the entire time. Lucky for you, I saw you and knew exactly who you are.”

“Uh…” Trooper A repeated.

“Oh come on,” 77 said taking a step towards Trooper A, which reminded him that Trooper A had a blaster and knew how to use it as a smoldering hole appeared in the hull plate next to his head.

“Fine,” He said hands in the air. “But certainly you didn’t think you were the only one.”

“Kind of ran under that assumption,” Trooper A said trying desperately to make sense of what was happening.

“You must have been buried in the sands of Dune then,” 77 Said deciding to sit down to alleviate
the pain in his head. “I guess I should ask, are you, uh, midi-chlorian rich?”

“I have the artificial ones if that is what you are getting at.”

“Artificial?”

“The Hag ran a battery of tests on me to figure me out.”

“Figure you out?”

“I have inverted force properties,” Trooper A said still unsure what that meant. “I can’t project the force beyond my body. But inside I have absolute control; hence why I crushed your armor with relative ease.”

“You can channel the force into your body? How is that…”

“Can’t you?”

“If I could, do you think I would be sitting down here struggling to breathe? You must be defective.”

“Excuse me?” Trooper A said surprised at how angry that made him.

77 quickly corrected. “From what I could gather a certain lab experimented with force resistant troopers. The reasoning was to have greater security against Jedi invasion. Normal life forms are practically useless against Jedi unless we are in huge numbers or we are able to pull off a surprise attack. Rather difficult if you have ever tried.”

Trooper A remembered the several attempts he had made against force users and nodded. It was not easy, the Force wielder would have to be distracted at the very least to have a chance. “Yeah,” he agreed.

“You are probably familiar with the Ysalamiri?”

“Force neutering salamanders?”

“Those are the ones. Scientists went to work on figuring out what allowed them to create the bubbles. I still can’t find the exact results but apparently they figured it out enough to start experimenting on people.”

“Like us?”

“Hardly,” 77 chuckled. “We would be considered a second generation. The ‘volunteers’ ended up very dead. After who knows how many failures it was decided to build from the ground up. The result was us. Combining cloning technology with genetic grafting they isolated the force cancelation abilities of the Ysalamiri.”

“Uh, yuck?” Trooper A said looking over himself. “I’m part salamander?”

“A very small part, but I doubt you are even that.” 77 sighed. “We can’t use the force, inside or outside the body. All we do is cancel it around us. I have never heard or seen one of us being able to use the force in anyway.”

“But I used the force a moment ago?”

“Yeah, that sort of surprised me as well. You shouldn’t be able to.”

Trooper A thought that over. “Maybe it has to do with the artificial midi-chlorians?”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have any of those in you either.”

“Meaning?”

“Ysalamiri don’t have midi-chlorians, they have a different genetic map that rebuffs the disruption that force users cause when pulling on the force.” 77 then came upon a realization, “Can others still use the force around you?”

“Of course,” Trooper A said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, that shouldn’t be the case if you were one of us.”

“Okay,” Trooper A said taking a huge grain of salt going with the reasoning. “Then what am I?”

“A synthetic Sith?” 77 guessed. “I really don’t know. But your abilities will probably come in handy soon.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” 77 said pointing past Trooper A towards the Ravager. “I think we are heading straight towards it.”

As 77 finished the sentence, the shuttle rocked as a tractor beam locked onto them. “Slag,” Trooper A sighed. “Okay, so I am going to ignore pretty much everything you said and digest it later, right now we need to get away from them.”

“I thought you were them.”

“Hardly, I am a contractor with Plagueis and I am certain they wouldn’t lose a moments’ sleep if they happened to get rid of me during the assault.”

“Depressing,” 77 said getting up. “Mind if I remove my armor?”

Trooper A eyed the man carefully, still unnerved by the mirror image. “Go ahead, but you might need it.”

“Can’t use something that doesn’t let me breathe.”

“Fair enough.” Trooper A said as he hopped back into the pilot’s chair and tried to figure out exactly where they were being towed.

The Shuttle landed with a thud in the landing bay. The two opened up the door expecting a violent greeting but got nothing.

“No one home?” 77 suggested hopefully.

“On a Plagueis troop carrier? From what I have gathered this thing can lug over 15k troops. No way they sent them all over to the base.”

“Well,” 77 looked around the bay noticing blaster scaring yet no corpses, “something certainly happened here.”

“Shall we?” Trooper A suggested stepping off the defunct shuttle.

“Shall we what?”

“Find alternate transportation, there has to be a working shuttle on this tug.”

“You plan to escape again?”

“I am not a welcome person in most places.” Trooper A pointed out.

“I have reservations,” 77 noted stepping beside Trooper A. The lack of corpses with the amount of damage that was evident in the landing bay was disturbing. “But we are stuck until we find a way off.”

“Exactly,” Trooper A said stepping towards the door, “shall we?”

Prompt #1: You have been separated from your team aboard the Anchorage in the chaos of battle. In an unused and little explored sector of the station, you find yourself face to face with a single member of the enemy of roughly similar Force ability as yourself that is attempting escape. You are faced with several choices: Do you allow them to escape? Extract information in exchange for their safe passage? Attempt to capture or kill them? The choice is yours.

------------------------------

This Chiss is on the hunt. The blue-skinned alien from Cssilia was separated from the rest of the clan. The home of Plagueis, now under the control of the One Sith and their leader, Drax, was being retaken. Each Plagueian was assigned to find every single enemy combatant and kill them with extreme prejudice. Only the leader was to be captured. The Dread Lord and great pain in store for him.

In the lower levels of the Anchorage, the Chiss encountered multiple minions of the One Sith, but none were worthy of being a "priority kill". It wasn't until he finally came across one that he gave chase. The coward was trying to escape. "He will suffer" thought the battlemaster to himself as he gave chase. Through different corridors and doorways, this false Sith eluded him. Every now and then, blue forks of lightning would be arced his direction, only to be countered with his red bladed Brimstone lightsaber. The blue and gray hilted weapon of death was a prize crafted and given specifically to him. It fitted his dominance perfectly.

The green alien was running out of areas to hide and ended up going further into the depths of the ancient station, areas that were still being uncovered and cataloged. Even before the invasion by these parasites, the Clan Plagueis still hadn't searched every level. Rumors of creatures left over from a prior time had appeared and were destroyed. The Chiss had no control over these beasts. But he knew to not take the sithspawn for granted, as they were developed and encased in the mystery of the dark side. Something the Chiss admired and feared at the same time. Given time, he would love to capture and study these xenophobic hallucinations and try to incorporate their existence into bettering himself. Today was not the day for such luxuries.

"Ktah!" was exclaimed by the Chiss every time the coward would try to send a projectile of lightning or other object at him as he continued his chase.

The room he had entered was cavernous. Huge was an understatement. Darkness enshrouded it. The Chiss took a defensive posture as he entered, releasing his senses outward to detect any incoming attack.His wait wouldn't last long as the false sith jumped down from an overhang with his blade coming to life seconds before impact. The Chiss was able to block the deadly blow immediately and with a telekinetic thought, force shoved the enemy away from him. The enemy somersaulted and landed in a crouch.

"Name!" demanded the Chiss.

The unknown individual stared at him in the darkness. "Like it would matter, but it will be the last thing you will remember upon your death. It is Xander".

"Xander. Hmmm. I know not of you. You must been a recently corrupted pawn of your master" the Chiss retorted.

Anger could be felt welling up in the One Sith. "An what is your name so I can add it to my collection?"

The Chiss just smiled in the darkness. "Unfortunately, I won't be a prize you will claim, so hence, you are not worthy of my name to tarnish upon your lips."

Xander leaped with his full anger and came hard and fast at the Chiss. Back and forth the two danced a musical symphony of death. Slashes and parries. Strikes, and counters. High and low. The two were equals in combat that would had made the Chiss' Dread Lord proud. They flash a light from their energy blades briefly lit up the closed space of the combat, only to be enveloped back in the room's dark embrace.

The creature watched the two combatants go back and forth with their battle. It was seething and engrossed in the display. It fed off their energies of the dark side as the battle continued. Waiting for its moment to finally attack and feed on its victims. Hiding in the shadows and its infravision watched till the moment was right.

The Chiss realized it at the moment of its attack. He had felt the presence of another within the room. His opponent wasn't as aware as his anger had blinded him on the target at hand. He had no chance as he was suddenly grabbed from behind by the unseen force and lifted high into the air. "Help Me!" was all he could scream out as the creature bit down on his head, severing it from his spinal column.

The Chiss stepped back and watched as the sithspawn fed off the fresh kill. Ready to make his escape as soon as possible.

"Enjoy your meal, beast?"

The creature finished off the delicacy and discarded the rest to the side. It looked at the Chiss and surveyed the next victim. But unfortunately, it wasn't going to get another meal as the Chiss exploded with arcs of forked lightning, enough to distract the creature momentarily. As soon as its eyes returned back to normal, the Chiss had already made his escape and was gone. The sithspawn huffed and lumbered back over to the remaining carcass to finish its feeding.