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[ooc: This is open to JEDI and GA personnel only. Thanks! ^^
Please see THIS THREAD for relevant information.]
All Titans Fall.
Every light dies.
Every life fades away.
For every beginning, there exists an end.
For every end, there exists a beginning.
For Delun, that end was now.
Please see THIS THREAD for relevant information.]
All Titans Fall.
Every light dies.
Every life fades away.
For every beginning, there exists an end.
For every end, there exists a beginning.
For Delun, that end was now.
His jaw clenched as the pain spread through his wounded side. An inferno was consuming his body from the inside out, and a dull, terrible pressure was building in his chest. He'd never known such suffering before. It was blinding, crippling, even lethal; perhaps the worst of it was just how little he could do to stop it. He knew what was hurting him. He'd known it was coming for days now. It was his body's power system. Specifically, the damaged cells on the right side of his ribcage. They'd been beaten up but good in a close encounter with a mech over a week ago, and he'd been unable to repair the damage. He knew that they'd fail eventually, but he'd never expected a catastrophic failure. Not so soon.
The feline pressed on. He placed one foot forward, carrying himself towards his goal one slow, agonizing step at a time. Every motion caused the burning hot cells inside his splintering ribs to wiggle about, causing little bits of shrapnel to tear into his flesh. He could scarcely breath, and every thump of his synthetic heart caused the pain to grow that much worse. His time was out. He was dying.
Delun's ears lowered as cold reality finally hit. He was dying. He had minutes to live. His plans weren't even fully prepared - he'd been in such a rush to get to the temple on Tython that he'd only made the most basic of preparations! He cursed and he swore and he wept with fear. He was dying, and he was afraid.
He pushed his way out of the Temple, half-staggering and half-limping the whole way out. His ship. Faith. She held the key. She could buy him the time he needed. It was a long shot and he knew it, but he'd take whatever he could get. "Dex, I need you to do exactly as I say. Tell Defiant - the other one - to get that cryopod to the ship's stern cargo bay. And grab the box under the pilot's seat while he's at it - the steel one with the angel moon stampings."
The AI replied with a simple chirp - good enough for Delun. At least he had a little hope now. If Defiant could pick up some of the basic work, it'd make things that much easier on Del. It'd give him a little breathing room to think in. He had at least a week's worth of labor to do inside a thirty-minute window, and he had no idea how he was going to get it all done. It'd be a miracle if he could do it. Nothing more, nothing less. As it was, it'd be a miracle if he could simply make it to his ship.
He made it out of the temple and headed 'cross the grounds, towards the dock he'd been instructed to land in. He felt like falling to his hands and knees and crawling by the time he arrived - were it not for his power armor, he'd have toppled long ago.
Faith was perched up atop her launch pad just as he'd left her. The stern cargo bay doors were slid open, and a white cryopod was resting at the end. A small box was perched atop the pod, and at the end stood Defiant. It simply nodded, then nudged the cryopod down the ramp. It lazily floated down, suspended by its repulsorlift systems, and Del caught its edge with an open palm. No words were exchanged - Del was far too weak to even thank Defiant for his help, and the hardsuit was intelligent enough to understand the gravity of the situation.
Del pried open the service panel on the pod's face. His armor automatically extended a data probe, which he plugged into the pod's control systems, concealed beneath the paneling. A virtual keyboard appeared in his HUD, and he rapidly tapped out a string of commands. At least, as rapidly as he could bear to move - the pressure and heat was building, and the pain was so intense that Del was beginning to feel very lightheaded. It was growing harder and harder to concentrate, but he wasn't done yet. He couldn't give in 'till his work was done, and there was still much to do.
He activated the pod's automatic resuscitation system. It began to hiss and groan, and an amber glow emanated from behind the frosty viewport built into the pod's face. Vital signs began to pop to life in Delun's HUD, and he sighed a breath of relief. He knew he needed to run a full day's worth of examinations and checks on the pod's cargo, but there was no time. It'd have to work. There was no alternative but success.
The armor-clad feline began to push the pod towards the temple's main entrance. The Jedi were not his first choice for help - he'd planned on leaving for Coruscant to conscript help for his little plan, but seeing as his body had thrown a hefty cogwrench into his ideas, he had no choice. The Jedi would have to help, or he'd perish. It was that simple.
Numbness began to spread through his limbs as he drew closer to the temple gates. His vision flickered, his synthetic eyes cutting out here and there. His heart lurched into his throat - was he that close to the end? Had he come so far only to die on the steps to salvation? He couldn't accept that - he wouldn't accept that. There was too much left to do, too much unfinished business to bring to a close. He needed to live. He had to live. He wanted to live.
The guards at the door slowed him briefly, but as he'd been called in - and seen in - by the Grandmaster himself, they saw fit to let him in with his cargo. Of course, they scanned it to make sure it was safe, and though they found the contents a bit odd there was nothing hazardous. He was admitted once more, and he made his way inside.
He knew he needed a Sage or a Healer. A powerful one at that. Someone skilled in working with more than just flesh and bone. But he didn't know where to find it. He cursed himself - in hindsight, he should've dragged a co-worker with him. They'd have known where to go. They'd have known what to do. His independent streak, his desire to do everything for himself, may well have proven to be his undoing.
Del came 'round a corner, then another, and another; he didn't even know where he was going anymore, and he realized the last minute was just a blur. His heart sank. "No," he muttered, "No no no! It's not time yet, I just need a few more minutes, it's not my time yet! Please, gods, just a few more minutes. That's all I need, that's all I need!"
Fear struck hard and fast. He was losing his fight, and he knew it. He felt his limbs moving more and more sluggishly, and his world was steadily darkening. A set of doors - he had to try it. He pushed his way through, and came out into a broad courtyard. One he recognized only too well.
He'd made his first visit to Tython in that very courtyard - he'd crashed into a gazebo in his armor. He could see the new one, the one he'd built by hand, standing proudly off at the courtyard's back wall. The willow tree at the center still stood tall and proud, gently encircled by a flagstone path. An artificial creek wound its way 'round the willow, bubbling and gurgling quietly. It was a lovely, peaceful place - and it was the exact opposite of what he needed.
Cursing, Del made ready to turn himself around.
That's when it hit. That's when the bell's began to toll, when his road came to a sudden and abrupt end.
His body's final primary power cell, embedded in a rib on the right side of his chest, was through. It was done in; overloaded and overworked, the cell simply couldn't handle the strain anymore. It had been overheating and swelling for nearly fifteen minutes now, and it was at its end. Del gasped for breath as it put unbearable pressure on his innards, and in desperation he began clawing off his armor, dropping it chunk by chunk all 'round him until he was down to the pants and shirt he'd worn beneath it.
It didn't help. He put a hand to his flank, and could feel the heat rolling off his chest. The cell was cooking him from the inside out. It was as if his body was on fire, and he could do nothing to extinguish the flame.
And then it burst. Suddenly and with terrible violence, it burst. It was as if a tiny grenade had gone off within his chest. A soft 'pop' as it went, a burst of red mist out his side, and a scream of agony that caught in his throat and refused to escape. His hand trembled as he clung to his wounded flank; he could feel a spongy, bleeding mass of what equated to hamburger where the cell had been. He bled black - the liquid from his torso's synthetic muscle was draining out with his own blood, and sable and crimson together trickled down his side.
Power drained away from his limbs; he keeled over, falling up against the cryopod he'd hauled in. The light in his eyes faded and his world went dark, but the pain was still there. The agony was still burning in his chest. He was alive, his heart still beating softly in his chest. A reserve power source - he should've known. He couldn't tell how long it'd hold, but he was alive. He could scarcely move, his limbs were so weak, but he was alive. He was blind and alone and afraid, but alive. There was still that little bit of hope.
He reached out, blindly groping for his helmet. Dirt and stone shifted beneath his heavy, clumsy digits, 'till they finally brushed metal and lining. His helm. His fingers curled around the collar and he pulled it close, his free hand frantically clawing at its interior 'till his claws found purchase on the integrated comms unit. He tugged it free, and felt over it. There was a special switch he'd built into it - an emergency transponder. It was meant for Dex's use, so that the AI could find him in an emergency. In this case, it was a call for help - a dying man's call for a savior.
It slipped from his trembling fingers just as soon as he'd activated it. Beeping softly, it clattered to the ground and slid away from him. He simply laid still, fingers crossed and praying silently for aid. The Jedi would feel his fear in the Force, their Security forces would pick up the locator beacon in short order, and there was no doubt Dex would discern that something was very, very wrong. But as for who would find him first, he simply didn't know. He could only lay there weakly, hoping for the best but quietly preparing for the worst.