Besides the sounds of the landing craft and the stomping of boots on durasteel the station was eerily quiet. Bellum followed and listened to Andor's commands to find the ship and start clearing out the sector of infected. Although he had never seen the undead, he remembered back on Cinnagar when he accidentally killed Master Geir's apprentice, who was showing the beginning signs of the virus. But the once-Jedi had shot the Bothon through the skull and thus creating no possibility of reanimation.

Upon the command of dispersal Bellum spun on his heels and walked out of the room. He didn't know quite where he was going but he had an idea, having only glanced at the holo-map. As he walked down the hallway he passed by a few corpses that had deteriorated beyond species recognition. The sight of the corpses surprisingly didn't phase him like he thought it might, "They are just bodies of the weak, nothing more nothing less." He said out loud to himself.

As he turned a corner he came upon a group of infected, shambling around slowly. Once one of the beings saw him however they all noticed him and began a hurried shuffle in his direction. Bellum chuckled at the walking dead, at this pace he would grow old when they reached him. He reached out with his metal hand, closing it into a fist and watched as the first ten shamblers' heads imploded from being crushed. He then lifted one of the undead and used it like a humanoid wrecking ball, slinging it back and forth in the remaining gaggle of shamblers. As he dropped the remaining torso of the being he sensed a slight presence in the Force, not close enough to notice if he had been on the lookout for it, but it was there all the same. 

"Bingo." He breathed lightly to himself. 

As he continued to search the halls for his prey Bellum worked on reducing his presence in the Force, something he had learned to do from his master a long time ago, and used during his short time as a bounty hunter when he hunted suspected Force sensitive contracts. During those times he had to work on perfecting it by trial and error. There had been a few times his quarry had slipped through his fingers because he hadn't properly concealed himself. But this time he would do it right, and he wouldn't fail in his personal mission or his master's.

As Bellum silently walked past the corpses of the dead, he could sense the fear emanating from his prey. He continued on, slowing his movements as he grew closer creating virtually no sound, the fear he smelled reminded Bellum of his past life: weak, fragile, dead. The fallen jedi paused for a second as he watched the wookie kill two undead, "The wookie is powerful, I will give him that. But his heart is not in it. He is frightened, and a scared beast can be dangerous when cornered. I'll have to play this one safe." Bellum thought to himself as he stalked behind his quarry.

"What would the best way to go about this. I've fought a wookie before, but I was armed then and they can't do much after they've been shot a couple times." Bellum thought as he tapped his hip where his blaster usually hung. It had been almost a week since Andor took them from him and he was about to replace his weapon. On the ground Bellum noticed a three foot solid durasteel rod, in fact the only reason he had seen it was because he had almost tripped over it. He crouched and picked up his new makeshift weapon, not too heavy. The metal would have to suffice for now.

From the shadows Bellum decided to play upon the Wookie's fear, "With fear like that, it's a surprised you are still alive." He said in his best imitation of Darth Andor. He stood stock still, hood covering his head, weapon in his right hand hanging by his side, concentrating on keeping his Force presence concealed. The smell of the dead would keep his natural oder subdued specially since he had just come from a fresh kill. Using the acustics of the metal hallway Bellum attempted to throw his voice to a different area without the Force, "I have no use of a Sith Acolyte who is afraid of his own shadow. You would be better off removing any thoughts of grandure from your mind."

If his plan worked correctly the acolyte would be caught off guard and would eventually cause the Wookie to panic and succumb to dispare

“Of all the times for the lights to turn on!” Bellum swore in his head. He instantly stopped concealing his Force presence, he had no more need to hide. He then turned that unused power into a grip on the Wookie’s eyes, envisioning in his head popping them like little grapes. How delightful that would be. He barely moved a muscle, as he closed his left fist, he had to concentrate on the precision attack, but he also had to watch the Wookie for any type of aggressive movement or Force counter attack. He had to be ready for any kind of counter, physical or mental.

Bellum knew he had to win. Defeating Andor’s Acolytes, no matter how useful they were, would be his start to his rise in power. As his anger for his current misfortune and the Wookie’s gall to laugh at him grew so did the energy he poured into obliterating the eyes of his prey. He stood there, nearly motionless, waiting for the Wookie to howl in pain, or howl a battle cry, either way; this fight had started.

That was what he was looking for: movement, Bellum ceased his attack the instant the Wookie’s foot moved. He never expected the Acolyte to just accept the attack, he wanted him to be the first to move. He then reached out with his left hand and grabbed a hold of Xrux’s midsection with the Force and yanked, as if pulling on an invisible grappling hook. As Bellum flew through empty space, he watched the Acolyte start a two-handed swing. The two seconds it took Xrux to rotate his body put Bellum about three feet away from his prey’s center mass, perfect length for the projected swing. Planting his feet and rotating his torso to increase his physical force, the Durasteel rod swung from behind Bellum’s right hip to his left to meet the swinging force of the Wookie’s leading elbow. It was a risky move, but if it worked as planned, the fight may become more even.

"You're wasting time dog, just die." He growled at the Wookie.

A crack sounded from Bellum’s knee as the Phrik staff connected, causing it to give way and Bellum to fall to a kneeling position. The movement put his back and left shoulder facing the Wookie and out of the path of the whining pike’s blade as it flew upward. A painful fire erupted from Bellum’s knee as it hit the ground, most likely broken, but not un-repairable. He had no time to think about it though as his opponent would most likely try to follow up with a downward swing of his weapon.

Instead of being immobilized by the pain, Bellum fed off of it as he rolled away from and behind Xrux, placing himself at least twelve feet away from him. The apprentice stood up quickly and faced Xrux as pain shot through his knee again. He clenched the jagged ended one and a half foot Durasteel bar in his mechanical hand. He bared his teeth at Xrux as he continued to feed on his pain and grow his rage from his stupidity. “Imbecile! Without the darkness I don’t stand a chance against it. Specially in the state we are now.” Bellum screamed at himself as he glared at the Wookie. He slowly began backing away, favoring his left leg, from the Xrux toward the door ten feet down the hall, trying to plan out his next move if Xrux decided to pursue him.

Every word the Wookiee spoke increased his hatered for Xrux. Had his knee not been broken by that hit, the fight may have gone differently. Bellum turned his back on Xrux and limped away, returning to his hunt for the ship. The doors automatically opened and closed as he passed through, luckily there were no undead in that hallway.

Bellum limped down the winding hallways until he couldn't bear the pain of his knee and sat down on a bench. As he sat he prodded his knee to figure out what had broken, sharp pain shooting through his leg. His inspiration revealed to Bellum that only his fibula had been broken where it connected to his knee, "That would explain why I can still walk." He spoke out loud to himself. He sat for a few more seconds preparing to take the pain of his broken leg then stood up.

His knee roared in protest and Bellum refused to give up, turning the pain to power. As he walked across the large room he was in, the feeling of pain felt less and less, Bellum was confused at first but concluded it was his determination and will to continue. The doors at the other end of the large room opened and four shambling corpes struggled through.

"Just great. I don't need this right now." Bellum growled to himself. The zombies noticed him shortly after entering as he was the only thing moving in the room. One of them howled befor charging at him in a stumbing run. The other three followed shortly after at the same pace. Bellum stepped forward putting all his weight on his right foot and hurled the jagged rod in his right hand at the lead shambler. The rod sailed through the space like a bullet impaling the lead creature through the eye and continued through the back of its head, tumbling to the ground behind it. His target took a couple more steps before dropping like a sack of rocks. The remaining three continued charging him like nothing had happened.

Stepping on his left foot, sending tendrils of pain up his thigh, of which Bellum again drew from and used the power to throw the left two undead across the room where the splattered against the wall. One of which impailed itself against a wall fixture. Bellum then took his third step forward, bringing his mettalic fist forward to connect with the chest of the last charging creature.

His fist felt no resistance as it entered and exited the being, but a howl indicated it wasn't dead yet. Bellum looked into the dead eyes of a once female Twi'lek as it tried to bite at him to no avail. He grabbed its throat with his left hand and squeezed using a small amount of Force crush to sever its head from its shoulders. He pulled his now entrail covered arm from the corpse as it crumpled to the ground, "Bloody plague. More of an issue than it should have been according to Andor. Let's see what is through these doors." Bellum said out loud to himself as he limped toward the doors picking up his weapon along the way.

Walking through Bellum came into a room with giant glass panels looking out into space. The room had a couple corpeses laying on the ground in worse condition than the ones he had just dispatched. He stood in awe for a moment at the sight of the shipyards. Then he spotted what Andor had sent them for: the Nebulon Frigate. Andor had told him to radio when he had found it, but he had never been handed a comlink. The lights were on yes, but Bellum didn't know if all systems had been restored. So instead of looking for an intercom setup he sat down on the ground, left leg extened in a comfortable position and used the Force one last time to send Andor a mental image of where he was and the ship that was docked there.

As he sat there waiting for his master to either respond through the Force, or to show up Bellum's body began to sweat from the trauma to his leg. Leaning back on his arms he worked on regulating his breathing to keep from passing out. But the longer he waited the less his body wanted to do anything. He slowly lowered himself to his elbows before finally laying down, his knee now felt like a 2-1B surgical droid was trying to cut it off with a bone saw without anesthetics. Bellum layed there looking at the ceiling as his vision slowly shrank to pinpoints, then ultimately went black.