Season 1: Episode 3.2 - The Endar Spire

Stardate: 4 1 1 6 0

Earth Standard Date: February 28, 2364

Galactic Standard Date: Unknown

Location: Unknown

The air was tinged with the antiseptic scent typical of medical bays. Tyson's eyes fluttered open to a room that was not the medical bay he expected. It lacked the sleek lines of the Enterprise-D sickbay or the Vulcan-filled biobeds of the Medical Bay in his Personal Reality. It also didn't match the utilitarian design aesthetics he saw on the bridge of the Tramp Freighter. Instead, this place was filled with technology, panels, and medical instruments, most of which Tyson couldn't immediately identify.

Tyson attempted to sit up, wincing as a dull ache coursed through his body. Taking a moment to gather himself, he glanced around the medical bay, assessing his unfamiliar surroundings. Beds lined one wall, though only one other seemed occupied. The chest of the man lying there was rising and falling steadily in the rhythm of deep unconsciousness. His face looked peaceful, undisturbed by the soft beeps and occasional whirs of machinery that filled the space. Reassuringly, the man was human, not Orion.

In the far corner, a large circular window offered a glimpse of the star-studded void outside, suggesting the bay's location aboard a ship, though Tyson had no idea which vessel he found himself on.

Tyson tried to recall how he had ended up in this unfamiliar medical bay, but the details evaded him, lost in a fog that clouded his thoughts. His last clear memory was of being transported onto the Tramp Freighter, demanding the Rite of 'Barter by Combat', and feeling close to resolving the Blood Fever Drawback that plagued him by finding satisfaction with one of the alluring Orion women. Or maybe he was about to lose that 'Barter by Combat' and become her willing servant, it was hard to tell... Now here he was, in an unknown ship, in an unknown location, with only an unconscious stranger to keep him company.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed. His intention to explore was cut short as he glanced down at his wrists. Metal bands encircled them, he'd been locked in handcuffs. He tugged against them experimentally but they held fast.

Frustration welled up within him. The cuffs were tight enough to chafe if he struggled. He had no memory of how he had ended up in restraints. Had he lost that duel and become a willing servant? The details evaded him, lost in the fog that clouded his thoughts.

His gaze returned to the unconscious man resting nearby, studying the stranger's peaceful face and wondering what series of events had led to them sharing this medical bay. Was this man an ally, an enemy, or like Tyson himself simply an unwitting victim of circumstance? For now, the answer eluded Tyson, however, he did notice, that unlike himself, the man wasn't bound.

Sighing, he leaned back against the bed. The steady beep of the machines counted the seconds as he wracked his mind trying to remember what had brought him to this unfamiliar place.

A sudden tremor coursed through the room, jolting Tyson from his contemplation. His first thought, born from the string of recent misadventures, was that he had found himself, once again, in the merciless grip of a space anomaly. He hurried to the window and pressed his bound hands against the cool glass, eyes urgently scanning the void beyond for any telltale signs of cosmic distortion.

Instead, the endless black canvas of space was alight with the furious dance of combat. Fighter craft darted to and fro, their angular forms cutting sharp silhouettes against the backdrop of distant stars. They unleashed coordinated volleys upon the ship Tyson currently occupied, their attacks were punctuated by bright flashes of impact and deeper, bone-rattling tremors.

Tyson studied the unknown designs of the attacking fighters intently, searching his extensive knowledge for anything familiar. But the vessels bore no resemblance to Klingon ships or the sweeping curves of Romulan vessels. These were something different, something unfamiliar. The realization that he didn't immediately recognize these craft with his meta-knowledge was oddly unsettling. Additionally, from what he could recall, the widespread use of fighter squadrons had only truly come into prominence during the Dominion War. Their presence here felt out of place, another unexplained inconsistency to compound his confusion.

Tyson found himself alone, save the mysterious stranger. Q's warning echoed in his mind.

"Companions may seem unnecessary in a place like the Enterprise, where the crew is always working cooperatively toward common goals or under direct orders. You will not always be on the Enterprise."

Yet Tyson had not expected that day to come so soon.

With no other options, Tyson turned to the footlocker situated at the end of the bed on which he had awoken. Inside lay the items he had previously purchased with his CP; the helmet and belt that comprised his Spacesuit, the Laser Sword, and a small handheld device.

Tyson's eyes narrowed as he focused on the bonds around his wrists.

With care, Tyson activated the Laser Sword clutched in his bound hands. The laser did not project the sparking plasma beam he had expected from a 'lightsaber'. What he could see was a shaft of intense light, focused and contained, extending from the hilt. More a coherent beam of terminating laser light, than actual plasma, so far as he observed.

The brilliant beam of light hummed as he brought it close to his skin. Millimeter by millimeter, he adjusted the angle and distance, until the blue beam barely kissed the metal of his bonds. The laser inched along the cuff, slicing through the metal with ease. But even the slightest mistake would mean losing a hand. Tyson's enhanced dexterity allowed him to guide the sword steadily, like a master surgeon wielding a scalpel. The beam continued its path, freeing first one wrist, then the other. As the cuffs clattered to the floor, Tyson let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and switched off the weapon.

Tyson flexed his freed hands, relief washing over him. Donning the helmet and belt, he attached the Laser Sword hilt to his belt. He then retrieved the device from the footlocker, turning it over in his hands. It appeared to be some form of electronic journal, similar to a PADD or tablet, though far less refined than the technology aboard the Enterprise. As Tyson activated the device, words began scrolling across the smooth screen. He began reading intently, hoping the journal might provide some clues as to his current situation.

Tramp Freighter (Item)

Sometimes used as a light troop carrier, the Tramp Freighter is a cozy starship for the Do-It-Yourself crowd. Favored by smugglers and honest traders alike, it’s got lots of nooks and crannies throughout the ship. The cargo bays can be converted to bunks in troop carrier configuration allowing it to hold 40 passengers. Comes equipped with standard life support, sub-light engines, an FTL drive, sensors, shields, and at least one defensive weapon like a laser cannon or a missile pod. Unless noted, the ships comfortably hold a dozen crew/passengers.

[+300 SP] The Voyager Problem (Drawback)

It seems that you’ve been catapulted across space to another place entirely. You’re somewhere in a different galaxy. As if things couldn’t be worse, another ship arrived with you... one who had half of their crew killed. Unfortunately, they’re from another faction than yours, and you don't exactly get along.

As Tyson absorbed the information he realized that the Tramp Freighter Item and the Voyager Problem Drawback had likely been combined by Q, leading to the anomaly that brought him here.

Tyson processed this unwelcome news. He was stranded in this distant galaxy. Instead of worrying, he turned his focus to the device in his hands, scrolling through the list of available options. The familiar choices from his time in the Star Trek universe were conspicuously absent, replaced by generic selections.

Still, one option in particular caught his eye. It was unconventional and comparatively expensive, but it had great potential.

Tyson thought back to his time on the Seleya and the Recruiting Station, which would have allowed him to recruit an unlimited number of canon characters for 100 CP. The option he was now considering would cost that same 100 CP just to begin, but if Tyson was right, it could provide him with an invaluable Companion.

The ship rocked under the force of another explosion, the attack still raging strong against its hull. Tyson wasted no more time contemplating. He'd paid for Q's advice with the drawback that landed him in this situation, and he wouldn't take the omnipotent being's advice lightly. He'd implement the selection and find himself more allies. With the decision made, he quickly selected the option on the device's display.

[100 CP] V-Ko IV Nursedroid (Item)

This is a high-end Nursedroid and can do some things that are from other robot lines. It has a dedicated database of species and illnesses, which updates for each setting and it can also collect data on encountered pathogens, flora, and fauna, including sapient races, for future study. All of the V-Ko line has internal miniaturized manufacturing for drugs. Your model has an unlocked database, allowing it to produce any drug you need, and can analyze drugs or liquids by consuming them orally for further production.*

Character Points: 1450

Tyson was aware that the V-Ko IV Nursedroid was an Item, not a true Companion. The purchase of the droid was but the first step in a longer process. But before Tyson could solidify his thoughts regarding additional purchases, the tremors wracking the ship grew fierce enough to jar the unconscious man lying prone on the biobed back into the waking world.

The man jerked upright, eyes snapping open to frantically take in the room. He noticed the battle raging on and the explosions blossoming through the window.

Tyson approached the biobed, trying to exude calm confidence. "Hey there, good to see you awake," he began, his voice steady and reassuring. "I'm Tyson. Looks like we've found ourselves in a bit of trouble here."

After a prolonged, silence-filled moment where the muted sounds of battle were the only conversation, the man seemed to gather himself. "My name is… Avner," he stated simply, uncertainty tingeing his voice.

Before either man could say more, the medical bay's doors whisked open. A harried crewman burst into the room, his expression taut with the acute stress of battle. He dispensed with pleasantries. "We've been ambushed by a Sith battle fleet! The Endar Spire is under attack!"

Avner, still wrestling with his bearings, furrowed his brow. "What's the Endar Spire?" His voice carried the lingering fog of recent unconsciousness.

The newcomer's face contorted in disbelief at Avner's question. "What, did you hit your head harder than we thought?" he retorted, urgency tingeing his tone. "I'm Trask Ulgo, Ensign with the Republic fleet. This ship is the Endar Spire. Now hurry! We must find Bastila and ensure she escapes alive."

Tyson stood motionless, letting the revelations wash over him. The mention of a Sith battle fleet sent a chill slithering down his spine. He knew of the Sith. He wasn't in the Star Trek universe, The Next Generation, Enterprise, or otherwise. This was…

Star Wars.

From what he recalled, in the Star Wars movies, there were always only two Sith, a Master and an Apprentice. The Sith did not have battle fleets…

But then understanding dawned as the pieces fell into place. Hearing Bastila's name had been the key. The only Bastila he knew of was Bastila Shan, a major character and companion in Knights of the Old Republic. The situation unfolding around him mirrored the opening sequences of that game… A ship under siege by Sith forces, a desperate struggle to survive, and an urgent need to save Bastila Shan.

Tyson's gaze shifted slowly back to the man who had awakened and identified himself as Avner. The implications were staggering. If this situation followed the narrative of Knights of the Old Republic, and Tyson's meta-knowledge held true, then the man before him, 'Avner', was none other than...

Revan.

The character was at the very heart of the game's story. Revan had been a Jedi whose path led him to wage war and turn to the dark side, only to be betrayed, mind-wiped, and returned to the Republic as a blank slate. Now here he stood, a man with immense capacity for both light and dark.

A curse escaped Tyson's lips, an instinctive response to the overwhelming realization crashing down on him. He stood on the brink of an epic story, but it only raised more questions in his mind. How closely would their reality adhere to the original tale? What should he do about coming events? The only saving grace was that, if his meta-knowledge held accurate, Revan himself was unaware of his true identity.

Tyson's curse directed Trask’s focus onto himself, "You're lucky to be alive," Trask began, "We found you on that small freighter we took in. Half the crew was dead! The only reason you survived was because of the help from that nursedroid of yours. She’s a real looker, but wouldn’t help anyone but you. I see you slipped your cuffs. We took you into custody because the women that you were holding captive told us you were a Space Pirate. But none of that matters now that the Sith are attacking. " The confusion Tyson felt must have been as clearly written on his face. Trask was compelled to continue, his patience wearing thin. "Does no one around here remember what’s happening?" He sighed heavily, the weight of the situation bearing down on him.

Addressing both Avner and Tyson, Trask laid out the stark reality of their predicament. "We don’t have much time. Bastila’s the commanding officer, the one in charge of this mission. Our primary duty is to ensure her survival in the event of an enemy attack." His gaze fixed on Avner, sharp and demanding. "You signed an oath just like everyone on this mission, now it's time to make good on it." Turning to Tyson, he added, "As for you, Space Pirate, you should come with us. We’ve got to stick together if we want to make it out of this alive. And I know you types are good at looking out for yourself. So hurry up and grab your gear, you need to suit up so we can get out of here!"

Avner was spurred into action by Trask's words and hurried to the footlocker at the base of his bed. Tyson had already looted his footlocker. As Avner extracted a combat outfit and a sword from the footlocker, Tyson returned his attention to the tablet.

Tyson intended to finish making his Companion selections, but a new notification drew his attention. Tyson had a new selection to choose from.

Specialization

Every Force user must decide how they wish to develop their powers. Pick a path.

Strength

Intelligence

Balance

Stolen novel; please report.

Tyson hardly hesitated. A quick glance over what each path offered revealed that the Intelligence path was the best option for him. Strength offered a natural talent for combat-related skills, but Tyson was already heavily combat-oriented thanks to his other Perks. He chose Intelligence.

Force Specialization: Intelligence (Perk)

The path of the Jedi consular and the Sith inquisitors. Your mental abilities are stronger and you have an easier time learning skills and Force powers. Includes a bonus Force Power: Force Heal. This ability lets you rapidly accelerate your, or others body’s natural healing process. It can be used to mend injuries and cure diseases. Force Specialization includes basic training in Lightsabers, Blasters, Telepathy, Telekinesis, Empathy, Force Speed, Farsight, Force Stealth, Force Sight, and Mind Trick.

Tyson felt something profound stir within him.

The Force.

It swept over his being like he'd been flung into a turbulent ocean of invisible energy. Raw, intangible, and ethereal, the Force permeated every atom of his existence. Each cell seemed to pulse in time with this incredible power that resonated through him. The Force felt boundless, a vast field of wild energy teeming with life, emotion, and intent. It was like a tapestry of ethereal threads woven into the very fabric of existence. Euphoria rushed through Tyson as he could sense the life around him on the ship, feel the residual echoes of emotions and intent beyond the normal range of his empathy. The whispers of the past and hints of the future rippled at the edge of his consciousness. His perception expanded, enveloping and connecting him to more than just his physical self.

Tyson opened his eyes and looked at what he had acquired for free with his Drop-In Origin in this universe.

[Free (Discounted)] Tactical Info (Perk)

You gain a basic HUD. In addition to standard functions, it allows you to access your character information and Perks and Drawbacks selections. Note: You cannot make purchases through your HUD while in combat.

[Free] Lightsaber (Item)

The signature weapon of Jedi and Sith alike. You gain a single unaugmented blade.

Tyson turned his attention back to the footlocker, inside he now found a lightsaber hilt, where there hadn't been one a moment before. He quickly clasped the cylindrical metal handle to his belt, positioning it opposite the Laser Sword already hanging at his hip.

Glancing around, Tyson realized he was the last of the crew to finish gearing up. He addressed Trask, "Where's my droid? And where is the freighter we arrived on?" Tyson asked, eager to gather his assets and ally.

Trask responded, "Your droid is in the storage closet over there," he said, gesturing towards a nondescript door set into the wall of the ship's interior. "The freighter is docked in the main hangar bay."

At this information, Tyson moved to the indicated storage closet. The door slid open automatically at his approach, revealing nursedroid, a V-KO IV model.

Tyson halted in his tracks as his eyes fell upon the droid, taking a moment to study her unexpected form. Trask's prior words echoed in his mind, mentioning she was a looker, yet Tyson had dismissed it as a joke and him assigning female pronouns to a genderless object. He expected the nursedroid would be mechanically utilitarian in design, as was prevalent in the Star Wars aesthetic. Droids here were decidedly robotic, metal limbs and parts exposed rather than hidden beneath synthskin. This served to emphasize their nature as creations, not living beings.

Yet the droid before him challenged those preconceptions. She struck a balance between droid and humanoid that leaned far closer to a feminine cybernetic form. Her body was sheathed in a fitted blue uniform, the fabric hugging curves rather than hard edges. Though mechanical elements were visible, such as the plating on her thighs and upper arms, they did not detract from her humanoid femininity. A charging cord, that looked like a tail, extended from a port on her back, was the most glaring reminder of her robotic origins.

Tyson's gaze was drawn to her face. With vibrant pink hair styled into buns and delicate features, she possessed a beauty exceeding any droid Tyson had encountered. Her eyes flickered on with artificial awareness. Tyson understood now why Trask had assigned her female pronouns. Her designers had crafted her to evoke femininity in both form and function.

Tyson watched with fascination as the droid's eyes flickered to life. With a soft click, the charging cable tail detached from the wall and withdrew seamlessly into a port on her belt. He found himself transfixed, unable to tear his gaze away as she drew nearer. Having seen many droids before in the various movies and games, utilitarian and functional in their design, but none that moved with such elegance or embodied femininity so convincingly as her. To Tyson's eyes, she seemed more human than she was a droid, though there were hints of her true robotic nature. She was synthetic, yet Tyson was struck by the sense of awareness within her eyes as if a soul resided within her artificial shell.

"Greetings. I am designated as V-KO IV, but you may address me as Vicky," she said. Her voice was smooth and sultry in a way that no droid Tyson had ever seen in fiction could match. Her cadence and diction still held the aspects of the formal structure of an automaton, yet interwoven within was an alluring undertone.

"It is my utmost pleasure to meet you, Master," Vicky continued, placing a subtle yet unmistakable emphasis on the word 'pleasure' that had Tyson tilting his head with curiosity. "I am programmed to provide comprehensive support, tailored not only to your medical needs but designed to accommodate a wide spectrum of personal requirements."

"Should you have any specific preferences or require assistance of a more... personalized nature, please feel free to express them," Vicky offered, her delicate phrasing implying services that stretched far beyond the purely professional. Tyson's eyes widened slightly at the implicit invitation woven into her words.

He eyed the droid up and down, taking in her alluring appearance. He chided himself for even noticing. This was no time for distractions. Clearing his throat, he met her gaze directly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Vicky. My name is Tyson," he began, "I apologize for the strange circumstances of our introduction." He paused, considering how to phrase his next question. "I understand you're programmed as a medical droid, but I must ask, are you equipped for any combat functions?"

Vicky's response was immediate, composed, and professional. "In the event of an emergency, I am capable of deploying an electrical discharge from my charging tail, sufficient to temporarily incapacitate an attacker," she explained. "However, my core programming focuses on medical assistance and patient care."

As Tyson listened, his eyes roved over the droid. He made an effort to steer his thoughts away from the droid's figure. Could this be another onset of the Blood Fever symptoms? He needed to stay focused.

"Alright then. Stay behind me and stay safe, but try to keep up," he instructed firmly, setting the tone for their impending escape from the medical bay. There would be time later to unravel the mysteries of Vicky's programming.

Tyson stepped away from the supply closet, the medical droid Vicky following closely in his wake. Avner and Trask were already in position by the large sliding door that served as the medical bay's sole exit. Trask took the lead and approached the door's control panel, initiating the opening sequence with an impatient stab of his finger. The door slid open with a smooth, whispering hiss, revealing the dimly lit corridor beyond. As they stepped out into the hall, Tyson's electronic journal chirped, signaling an incoming message. He glanced down in surprise as a video feed popped up on its display. Tyson handed off his tablet to Avner without a word. The message was streaming directly to Tyson's HUD too, sparing him the need to crowd around the small screen.

The screen filled with the rugged, determined face of a man. His words were fraught with urgency as he introduced himself. "This is Carth Onasi calling all crew. The Sith are threatening to overrun our position on the bridge. Their firepower is overwhelming. We can't hold out for long." His voice dropped with grim finality. "All hands report to the bridge immediately to defend Bastila!"

Overhearing the desperate message, Trask's expression turned grave. "Carth Onasi is one of the Republic's best pilots and soldiers," he said somberly. "If he says things are dire, you'd better believe it. We need to get to the bridge right away to help defend Bastila and the rest of the crew."

The trio set off down the corridor, moving past a repair droid, still busily attending to its duties, seemingly oblivious to the chaos and destruction engulfing the Endar Spire. The constant tremors rumbling under their feet served as an ominous reminder of the raging conflict that had overtaken the ship.

Approaching a closed bulkhead door barring their way, Trask's face fell. "Blast! I don't have the security codes to open this one," he admitted. But his resolve remained unshaken. "Give me a moment to slice the door controls open." Moving to the access panel, his fingers flew in practiced motion across the keys, utilizing his security skills to override the encrypted lock.

With a groan, the bulkhead door finally slid open. On the other side, a lone Republic soldier was engaged in a desperate standoff against two figures clad in menacing silver armor over a black underweave. The confrontation was brutally brief; the Republic soldier cried out as he was ruthlessly gunned down before their eyes.

Trask's reaction was instant, a mix of anger and duty driving him forward. "Those Sith must be the advanced boarding party!" Drawing his blaster with a steely hiss, his voice rang out as a rallying cry. "For the Republic!" With those words, he charged headlong into the fray.

Tyson held out a halting hand towards Vicky, a silent instruction for her to keep her distance from the skirmish.

With a shout, Trask hurled himself into the fray, blaster barking as he engaged the Sith invaders. Avner was only a half-step behind, as he swung his sword. Together, the two made short work of the silver-armored soldiers.

In the aftermath, Tyson moved among the fallen enemies, hoping to salvage what he could for his own use. He retrieved the Siths' discarded rifles, long-barreled blasters meant to be gripped with both hands. Two-handed weapons were not ideal for his fighting style, which best utilized his Master with Your Hands perk, but blaster rifles were better than nothing if ranged combat proved necessary. "It'll do for now," he muttered, testing the heft of the looted weapons.

He turned and offered one of the rifles to Vicky. "I know you're not made for fighting. But if someone gets past me, point this at them and pull the trigger. Understand?"

"Yes, Master. Thank you for considering my safety," the droid replied in her calm monotone. There was a hint of something more in her words. Gratitude? It was gone before he could be certain.

He began stripping armor from the dead Sith, but Trask's urgent shout put a stop to that. "No time for that now!" Up ahead, Avner had already breached the next doorway to reveal two more silver-clad invaders. With a fierce cry, the warrior charged to meet them, sword flashing. Trask followed close behind, forcing Tyson to abandon his scavenging and raise his captured rifle to join the attack.

Tyson hurried to catch up to Avner and Trask, finding the duo had already dispatched the pair of Sith soldiers by the time he arrived. His captured blaster rifle remained unused in his hands, rendered unnecessary by the lethal efficiency of his companions. However, amongst the fallen foes, Tyson spied a pair of short swords far better suited to his martial talents. Avner, already equipped with a similar blade, paid the weapons no mind. But Tyson recognized their potential value. He clipped the cumbersome rifle to his belt and snatched up the twin blades. He saw no need to reveal either his Lightsaber or Laser Sword just yet.

They pressed onward, following Avner's lead. As they neared the next corner, the din of battle grew louder. Rounding the bend, a grim scene awaited. The Republic soldiers lay fallen, defeated by a platoon of six Sith troops.

Yet Avner's resourcefulness and combat mastery shone through once more. Seizing a grenade from one of the previously slain foes, he hurled it into the midst of the Sith platoon. The blast devastated their ranks, leaving only a sole survivor for Avner to swiftly cut down with a precise sword strike.

Witnessing this formidable display, gave Tyson pause. Avner navigated the battlefield with ease, demonstrating strategic intellect and lethal efficiency. His capabilities painted a vivid picture of the dormant potential within him. That someone bereft of memory could exhibit such prowess was both awe-inspiring and deeply troubling. He shuddered at the thought of Avner regaining his full faculties, including mastery of the Force. But Tyson recognized Avner's skills improved their odds of surviving this crisis. The ethical dilemma posed by his possible return as a Sith Lord could wait until they escaped the present danger. Tyson resolved to stay focused on the immediate threat but would keep a wary eye on Avner.

The group equipped themselves with the grenades and medpacs gathered from the fallen Sith troopers. Several of the medpacs went to Vicky, who efficiently stored them within her chassis.

Avner took the lead as they navigated the ship's corridors until he slid a door open to reveal a fierce duel underway. A man wielding a crimson lightsaber battled furiously against a woman with an azure blade.

Trask's reaction was one of caution. "It's a Dark Jedi! And that woman is one of the Jedi meant to guard Bastila. This fight is beyond us. We'd only get in their way," he warned, recognizing the power on display and the danger of interfering.

The two warriors were a blur of motion and color, their lightsabers crashing together with such ferocity it was clear the combatants were evenly matched. Tyson, however, would not stand idly by while the fate of the ship hung in the balance. The stakes were too high to remain a passive observer if it risked the Jedi's defeat. He turned to Trask, "I need your blaster pistol." Despite Trask's protests and emphasis on non-interference, Tyson pressed on, challenging his assumptions, "What if she loses? Can you fight a Dark Jedi?"

Faced with the irrefutable logic of Tyson's argument and the uncertainty ahead, Trask reluctantly conceded. He handed over his blaster pistol, taking Tyson's blaster rifle in exchange.

The blaster pistol felt different from the phasers he'd used, but Tyson did not hesitate. Trusting in his Perks, he raised the pistol and fired without really aiming. His first shot streaked toward the Dark Jedi.

Forced to break off his attack and dodge, the Sith gave ground before the unexpected assault, allowing the female Jedi precious breathing room to recover and maneuver.

Tyson advanced steadily, keeping up a constant stream of fire. Each shot was carefully placed to divide the Dark Jedi's attention and create openings in his defense. Though skilled enough to continue engaging the Jedi while parrying or dodging the blaster bolts, the Sith found himself hard-pressed by this new threat. Tyson's intervention had tipped the scales of the duel in the Jedi's favor. She seemed to move in harmony with Tyson's shots, her lightsaber slipping through gaps in the Sith's guard created by each bolt. The Force flowed through her, guiding her strikes. Her fluid motions were a perfect counterpoint to Tyson's aggressive support.

The Jedi went on the attack, her lightsaber carving radiant arcs through the air as she pressed the Dark Jedi. With Tyson harrying him from one side, the Sith was forced to divide his efforts, parrying desperately to keep both opponents at bay. But the female Jedi was a whirlwind, her blade cutting swathes with each powerful strike. She was a tempest, drawing deeply on the Force to fuel her mastery of the lightsaber forms against her foe.

As soon as he was within range, Tyson activated his own Lightsaber, the green plasma blade thrumming to life. Though only a novice with the iconic Jedi weapon, his other skills and Perks made him dangerously capable. He moved in sync with the woman, taking over as the primary combatant driving the Sith back. The Jedi struck at every gap Tyson created, their teamwork flawless. Tyson's blade blurred, the Dark Jedi struggling to mount any counter-attack beneath the sustained assault.

Battered by Tyson's devastating blows and unable to find any weakness to exploit, the Sith's defenses began to fail. Each of Tyson's attacks cracked through the Dark Jedi's guard, chipping away at his stamina and resolve.

Sensing her opponent faltering, the Jedi followed up with a blistering series of strikes too swift and powerful for the Dark Jedi to parry. Her final lunge found its mark in the Sith's chest. The clash of plasma drowned the Dark Jedi's cry of defeat as he fell, his life extinguished like a flickering candle.

Silence descended on the corridor, broken only by the electric hum of the Jedi's lightsaber and the heavy breathing of the victors. Tyson lowered his pistol and deactivated his blade, adrenaline still surging through his veins from the fierce duel. Unfortunately, he hadn't defeated the Dark Jedi in single combat. Tyson could still feel the Blood Fever pulsing within him.

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

Tyson

Origins: Human, Humanoid, Drop-In, Space Pirate, Bad Guy

Race: Augment Human-Betazoid (Hybrid)

Character Points: 1450

Reality Points: 500

Ship Points: 1300

Credits: 0

Status Effects: (none)

Drawbacks:

Gauntlet (Locked)

Ensign Marty Stu

A Simple Re’Q’uest

Hybrid (Betazoid)

Amok Time/Blood Fever

Outlawed

The Voyager Problem

Perks:

Cosmic Awareness

Out of Nowhere

Going Native

Live and Let Live

This is (Not?) Rocket Science

Kinda Bland

Determinator

Painted On

Snakeskin

Adaptable

Duelist

Master with your Hands

Best of the Best

Everything Is A Weapon

Augment

Force Specialization: Intelligence

Tactical Info

Items:

Laser Blade

Spacesuit

Agony Booth

Cloaking Minefield

V-KO IV Nursedroid

Lightsaber

Personal Reality:

Access Key

Security System

Inter-Reality Connecting Door (Star Trek Enterprise)

Medical Bay

Spaceships:

Tramp Freighter