The Jedi and the Beast

Chapter IX: A Plague Unbound

The Venator drifted, a crippled giant adrift in the cold embrace of space. Xon, his face etched with a grim determination, navigated the labyrinthine corridors towards the security centre. His creation, a monstrous parody of life, rampaged through the ship, leaving a trail of carnage in its wake.

Reaching the security centre, Xon slammed his datapad into the console, hoping the flickering power reserves would be enough. With a desperate prayer, he initiated a lockdown sequence – blast doors slamming shut, hangar bays sealing tight. It was a meagre victory against the unstoppable force he'd unleashed.

Suddenly, a horrifying sight snagged his attention on one of the flickering security monitors. The clones his creature had just slaughtered were... moving. Not twitching, not spasming – they were rising, eyes glowing with an unnatural light, turning on their living brethren. Panic clawed at Xon's throat. This wasn't just a monster; it was a plague.

A thunderous boom echoed from the doorway. Xon whirled around to see the blast door ripping open under the creature's relentless assault. Behind it, a shambling horde of undead clones, their faces contorted into grotesque parodies of life, surged into the room.

There was no time for heroics, no time for self-pity. Xon ripped open the nearest ventilation shaft, the stale air scraping against his lungs as he squeezed inside. He slammed the grate shut just as the creature entered the room, its single eye scanning the area for its creator.

A Krieger's voice echoed through the cramped shaft, amplified by the comm unit Xon had foolishly left on the console. "Xon, where are you?"

Xon gritted his teeth, the sound of the dead troopers' snarls a constant reminder of his folly. He had to find Krieger. He had to stop this nightmare. Crawling deeper into the ventilation system, Xon vowed to atone for his actions, even if it meant sacrificing himself.

***

The Force pulsed around Krieger, a raw wound echoing the one in his heart. Zane. Gone. Her terror, a chilling echo in the Force, fueled his desperation. He had to find Xon. Had to understand what unleashed this nightmare.

A guttural moan shattered the silence. Two figures emerged from the shadows, their movements jerky, unnatural. Clone troopers, their armour marred by the familiar scorch marks of a lightsaber, but their eyes burned with an alien hunger. "Report!" Krieger barked, the word heavy with a dread he couldn't shake.

Silence. Then, a guttural roar. The clones lunged, their bare hands outstretched like claws. Krieger ignited his emerald lightsaber, the blade humming a desperate counterpoint to the growing darkness. With practised efficiency, he met their attacks, but the sight of his fallen brothers, now twisted parodies of life, sent a wave of nausea crashing over him.

The dark side. It clung to these creatures, a thick miasma that threatened to suffocate him. He pushed back, channelling his grief and rage into a defensive wall. He wouldn't succumb. Not here. Not now.

Fueled by a desperate hope and the Force's erratic tremors, Krieger pressed on. The disturbances intensified, guiding him towards the epicentre of the chaos. The security centre door loomed before him, a thin barrier against the cacophony of growls and snarls emanating from within.

With a deep breath, Krieger ignited his lightsaber, the emerald blade a beacon in the suffocating darkness. He braced himself for the worst, the weight of his failing lightsaber a stark reminder of their vulnerability. As he breached the door, a wave of putrid stench assaulted him.

The security centre was a grotesque tableau. Corpses, once his comrades, now shambled with a terrifying hunger in their vacant eyes. A primal growl escaped Krieger's throat. He wouldn't let them win. Not tonight. He launched into a desperate fight, his emerald lightsaber carving a path through the reanimated horde. Each fallen clone fueled his rage, but also gnawed at his resolve. How many more? How could he stop this plague Xon unleashed?

Suddenly, a flicker of movement on a security screen caught his eye. The creature. It was in the Jedi training room, hunched over a workbench. In its massive hand, a familiar blue gleam – Zane's lightsaber, disassembled. A primal fear gripped Krieger as he watched the creature reach out with the Force, effortlessly lifting Zane's blue kyber crystal. The air crackled with a dark energy as the crystal pulsed, fighting the creature's will.

A faint red glow emanated from the room, bathing the creature in an unholy light. Krieger's heart hammered against his ribs. Was it... changing the crystal? Then, with agonising slowness, the creature reassembled the lightsaber and ignited it. The blue blade sputtered to life, then... flickered. The familiar azure glow was replaced by a menacing crimson red.

The creature, bathed in the red light, lifted its head, its single eye seemingly boring straight through the monitor and locking onto Krieger. A chilling smile, devoid of any humanity, stretched across its grotesque face. In that moment, a wave of pure, unadulterated rage crashed over Krieger. He had failed Zane. He would not fail the ship. With a roar that echoed through the corridors, Krieger ignited his lightsaber and charged towards the security centre doors, his emerald blade a beacon of defiance against the encroaching crimson tide.