2 Years 5 months Earlier
Pourhiri Province
Vitheon
If not for the sweat soaked cloth now covering his face, the swarm of tiny black insects buzzing about his ears would be tickling his nose like a mesh of fine hairs. As it was, in the humid jungle, with air that seemed more like liquid in his lungs and which hung heavily on his dirty skin, the strip of fabric shielding his nose and mouth made it almost as hard to breathe. He hadn't decided yet which was worse.
Donnic Ingsam cursed this planet. He cursed the war. He cursed the Republic, the Empire, and these alien weirdos who he felt certain, by the way the hair stood up on the back of his neck, were watching him from the shadows. He wasn't sure why they bothered. The stoic pair that the Empire had allowed to 'observe' the harvesting (a futile, perhaps mocking way of placating the species they'd backed into a corner over trade deals) would surely report back anything of interest or concern. Whether or not their leaders could do anything about it was another matter entirely. The duo stood off to the side now, away from the heavy machinery currently cutting a swath through their jungle. Donnic couldn't tell whether the six eyed freaks had an opinion on the noisy, efficiently destructive operation. He didn't really care either.
The only thing he and his crew were concerned with was how much Daro Root they could rip out of the ground on any given day. No matter what that amount ended up being, though, it'd never keep pace with the Empire's demands. The stuff was damned rarer than they'd been led to believe. Spacer tales drifting back to Dromund Kaas would have had you thinking people planted the blasted trees on their lawns, and that was basically true. But the root itself...well, that was a whole other story entirely.
Turned out that, out of all the Daro trees on Vitheon, only about one in every ten thousand or so was actually useful. There didn't really appear to be a pattern to it, but only these few plants managed to attract the weird fungus that merged with the tree, metamorphosing portions of the deepest, most difficult to reach roots into the odd little tumor like protrusions that were the cause of this whole expedition. Donnic didn't pretend to understand the science behind breaking the things down and transforming them into pills, but he knew they were effective. And he knew they were valuable.
Gaining a better grasp on how they were dispersed was one of the top goals of his expedition. Plan B was to cut the whole damn jungle down just to be sure they squeezed every resource possible out of this backwater world. It was kind of hit or miss on the first one. He'd drawn up some preliminary maps of potential sites, but there was still a lot unknown about this planet and all the myriad environmental factors at play. With time, he knew he could have better narrowed down the list of sites, but they were on a deadline. Time was a luxury they didn't have, so Donnic had picked a handful of the most likely locations and tossed the dice.
Turned out luck was with him. They been in this stretch of the Pourhiri Province for two weeks, and already his team had more than doubled their daily quota, helping them to gain back some lost ground from the month prior. He would have preferred to be ahead in the books, but this was much better than dragging behind. It kept his boss off his back, and that, in turn, kept him off his team's. He didn't like being a tyrant, but there was lot on the line here. 'Negotiations' with the natives hadn't really shed any more light on the subject. In spite of living with and semi cultivating the damned things for millennia, the aliens themselves didn't really understand how the process of formation worked. That, or they weren't telling, and no amount of roughing up was going to get it out of them. Didn't matter though. Donnic didn't need them. He had his crew, and that was more than enough.
"Boss! Boss!"
Speaking of...
"What is it, Holstan?" the dark skinned, dark haired young man was out of breath. He doubled over for a minute, panting as he held up one finger, clearly having run very far, very fast. "Found something. Two miles in. Buncha stone blocks out in the trees. Millger nearly ripped the blade off a harvester tryin' to get past 'em. He went up to get a look and then he just started twitching and fell over," Holstan was all but grabbing at Donnic's sleeve to tug him in the direction he was pointing, but the older man was already moving, taking off in a run as he shouted to Holstan to take the lead. The younger man overtook the Foreman, sprinting off through the trees as he guided them both back down the makeshift path they'd cut through the undergrowth. He called back a few more details and speculations on what had happened as they ran. Donnic noted his words, but made no reply, too intent on reaching his injured crewman.
By the time they'd arrived on scene, attempts at first aid had already been attempted and abandoned. Donnic slowed to a trot, Holstan trailing behind him as he came upon his second in command, Lanfraa, moving to meet them. The woman shook her head mutely at Donnic's inquiry before gesturing to the makeshift medical tent behind her. The Foreman thought he caught a glimpse of something white lying about where a cot should be, but it was difficult to tell from this angle.
He moved towards the tent, pushing past a handful of clamoring workers all trying to get his attention. Drawing up at the opening of the tent, he stepped over the threshold and peered down silently at the sheet covered body lying prone on the cot. Parlinn, their de facto crew medic, glanced up from where he was seated at a chair in the corner recording a series of notes into his holopad.
"Boss," he greeted.
"You wanna tell me what the hell is going on, Parlinn?" Donnic answered, curious but wary. He moved to take a peak at the body. Millger's pale, bloodless face gaped up at him. He looked...wrong. Aside from being a corpse, that is. Empty...more so than even a dead body should. As if the slightest touch would cause him to collapse in on himself and crumble to dust like a broken shell. Dark cracks radiated along every inch of exposed skin as if he were a piece of pottery that had been dropped from some height but managed not to completely shatter.
"We're not really sure," Parlinn, ever the cautious one, answered diplomatically. "Could be any number of things. We don't really know a whole lot at this point."
"Why don't you start by telling me what you do know then, Par," Donnic answered simply, turning his body to face the only other living occupant of the tent. "I'm not expecting you to know what makes a man drop dead just from touching it, but I need everything you've got about what happened." Parlinn looked uncertain, pursing his lips as he gathered his thoughts. Rising from his chair, he handed the holopad to Donnic. "There's the incident report, but I can summarize for you. We were about halfway through with cutting on Block A24-c when I heard this awful shrieking sound and smelled smoke. Millger started cursing over the comm. Lanfraa demanded a status report, and he told her he'd hit something. Lanfraa was on the other side of the block, but I was a bit closer so I went with Holstan to have a look.
Millger had mostly cleared the strip when he ran across this...weird piece of stone just sticking out of the ground. Very obviously artificial. There's a holo in there," as the other man was speaking, Donnic had pulled up the holo image in question. It was definitely weird, a large, smooth piece of rock with sharp, geometrical edges. Zooming in on the image revealed faint, almost illegible scratches lining the surface. They seemed to...pulse as he stared at them, but that might have been a trick of the light, of staring too long at the same spot.
"We've cordoned off the area. Lanfraa put Merrotte and Ridhig on guard duty."
"Show it to me."
"I'll take 'im."
Donnic and Parlinn looked up to see Lanfraa with one foot inside the tent. Donnic nodded, handing the holopad back to Parlinn. "Hold off on sending in any official report. I want to see what we're dealing with before we report in."
"Can do, Boss. I'm going to get him in carbonite though. For transport," he gestured to Millger's lifeless form. "Someone up top might want to examine him later, and I'd rather not catch hell for letting him rot in this heat."
"Sounds like a plan, Par," Donnic was already pushing his way out of the tent, Lanfraa motioning him to follow. "'s not far from 'ere."
Donnic waited till they were out of earshot of some curious looking crew members before muttering, "How's the team?"
"Freaked out, Ingsam. Whadaya expect?" the woman scoffed, but she met his eyes with a nod of understanding. "You know what it's been like. Those alien freaks hangin' around all the time..."
"Do you think they're behind this?"
"Behind what? Millger runnin' into some rocks? 's not like they put 'em there. Not recently, at least."
"You've scanned for..."
Lanfraa waved a hand dismissively with a short, sharp nod. "I scanned it. I scanned it. Everythin' we could think of. You're welcome to check our work, but you won't find nothin' weaponized on there. It's just..."
"What?" he asked after a beat, when she trailed off, looking lost in thought. Lanfraa glanced at him, dark eyes scrutinizing his face. "...readin's are kinda weird, Boss. People been actin' a bit strange lately...You remember the incident with Basosha 'bout two weeks ago?"
Donnic remembered. He also remembered Basosha was a closeted alcoholic, so forgive him if he wasn't going to take everything rambling warning about shadow people the man spouted seriously. He was a good worker, and, usually, dependable. If he hadn't been, Ingsam would have replaced him long ago. His drinking habits were usually kept in check, so the Foreman had been willing to overlook an incident or two when they'd gotten out of hand.
"Lanfraa...you know how he is..."
"I know, but...well, this is some creepy shit, Ingsam. Maybe the old man ain't hittin' the bottle quite as hard as we thought. The electromagnetic scans kinda remind me o' that time on Kulreshan. You remember that rock, yeah?"
"...You think there's...what? A Sith temple buried out here, Lanfraa?" in spite of himself, Donnic couldn't keep the disbelief from his voice as he replied to his old friend. Lanfraa, for her part, rolled her eyes, not the least bit bothered by his incredulity. "Wasn't a Sith temple then. Just some stuff Reclamation hauled off. Could be somethin' similar?"
"Could be Millger's been hitting the local cantina with Basosha again and wasn't watching where the fuck he was going."
Any further protests on Lanfraa's part were cut off as the duo came upon the scene of the crime.
"What the bloody..."
Merrotte was standing before the stone.
He seemed...wrong.
Eyes unfocused, no reaction to the sound of Lanfraa shouting his name. The whole world pulsed like a distant, muted heartbeat. Water in his ears.
Both Lanfraa and the Foreman broke into a sprint. Donnic threw himself bodily at Merrotte, tackling the man to the ground, his fingers mere inches from the smooth, cold rock surface. Ridhig lay several meters away, caught in some kind of seizure. Her body writhed, bloodied foam leaking out of the corner of her mouth. Lanfraa moved to try to intervene, reaching for a medpac.
"DON'T TOUCH HER!"
Foreman Ingsam grunted in pain as Merrotte threw him bodily off of himself, tossing him against the prone form of a felled tree. The surface of the downed giant trembled, cracks forming from the force of impact as dirt and mud trickled in streams from the roots arching over his head. Donnic lay dazed, black spots dancing in his vision. His body felt numb, heavy. He thought he might have felt a bone break, but the pain had not yet set in.
Pe-ow!
Thud.
Clomp! Clomp! Clomp!
"...Boss? Boss," someone was touching his shoulder lightly. Without the canopy overhead, the cleared land was bright. Only the shadows caused by the heavy tree roots over his head blocked their light. Donnic stirred at the touch, looking up into his second in command's drawn face.
Then he blacked out.
...
When he awoke, it was to the reassuring sight of a fully functioning Imperial medical droid looming over him. Not one of these garbage models scrapped from the firefights and sent out to dumps like Vitheon on the frontier.
"You are awake."
"Tell me something I don't know," Donnic blinked at the soft blue and white lights, wincing at the throbbing in his head. What had he been doing the night before to have landed him in here? The local ale wasn't that str...
Millger's body. The pale, lifeless eyes and the fractured corpse.
Merrotte. The impact of hitting the dirt. Something on the man's skin burned Donnic when he touched him.
He was flying, and then he wasn't.
Pain exploded everywhere.
Lanfraa.
The stone.
The door hissed open, and the Foreman gingerly turned his head to face whoever was walking in. Lanfraa and some uniform he didn't know. Imperial...
"You called the damn Rec Squad," he groaned as their deadline went down the proverbial toilet. The Reclamation Service officer didn't look particularly pleased with his welcome.
"Yeah, well," Lanfraa replied easily, plopping into a chair by his side. "You were out cold for two weeks before I did. People started askin' questions about why you stopped bein' the one to make reports. What? You want me to tell 'em you were out drinkin' or somethin'?" she grinned, but he could see the strain in her eyes. "Had to tell 'em the truth eventually. He ain't here for us, though, not really," she gestured dismissively towards the man who'd entered with her.
"That so?"
"It is," the man answered briskly. "Lieutenant Garestan Torrou, of the Imperial Reclamation Service. The 'Rec Squad' as you termed it."
"Pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant," Donnic murmured, still feeling a bit dizzy. The lights were really too bright in here. "What are you doing here, exactly? If you don't mind my asking? We're under the Sphere of Biotic Science. Not exactly your jurisdiction. Not that you aren't welcome, of..."
The man held up a hand. "Spare me the pleasantries, Foreman. I'm here to sign off on paperwork and offer advice if and when it is asked for. I doubt we'll be seeing much of each other."
"Advice?" Donnic frowned at the man, confused. Maybe he was still suffering from a concussion? Or he was dreaming. Everyone had odd dreams every now and then, right? And he had been under a bit of stress with these deadlines. Maybe...
The door hissed open once more, and the form of an older man, white haired and clad in civilian garb, peeked his head into the room. "If I may? Lanfraa, Lieutenant. I apologize for my delay. Donnic." The old man smiled.
Ingsam stared, then a half annoyed, half fond smile broke out on his face as he cried, "Doc!" and immediately regretted it, wincing at the sound of his voice echoing loudly in his ears.
Doctor Gannleo Witwar. An old professor when he'd still been in school. He'd never been much for archaeology, but he'd taken a class or two. He remembered the old man with fondness.
"What are you doing here, Professor Witwar?"
"Ah, the Lieutenant," he inclined his head politely towards Torrou, "was made aware of the situation when your supervisor reported the incident in the jungle to the Reclamation Service. Unfortunately, with the war going on...well, as it stands, there simply aren't the resources to investigate the wealth of..."
"We don't have the time, so we called in Witwar," Torrou cut off pointedly. The Doctor frowned at being interrupted. "I was in the area, concluding an excavation. I offered my expertise."
"Which is greatly appreciated, Doctor, believe me," Torrou drawled, looking bored. He glanced at a chrono on his wrist, then back at Ingsam. "Well, now that we've got introductions out of the way: I'm sorry to inform you that your project is halted until..." he raised a hand to wave off the protests that followed, "further notice. Seismic surveys have been carried out in several of the sites on your project list. All have, thus far, turned up evidence of similar ruins." His lip curled slightly in distaste. "Until the good Doctor can assure us that the Empire does not stand to lose anything in the inevitable destruction of said ruins that your harvesting necessarily entails...you and your crew will be relegated to sorting through the material you've already collected. You're welcome."
Donnic bit back his retort that that work was more efficiently performed by droids and simply nodded. "Of course, Lieutenant. Was there anything else?"
"No. Though, Doctor," he glanced at Witwar, "one of my aides informed me that a representative of that silly little environmental committee wanted to speak with you. I trust she can contact you well enough herself, but I thought I'd give you a warning. Certainly better you than me."
And with that said, Lieutenant Torrou made his departure without so much as a nod of goodbye.
"Well," the Doctor turned to Donnic and Lanfraa, his eyes full of energy not normally attributed to his age. "I've read your report, and spoken with everyone who was there. But now that you're awake, tell me, in your words everything."
