Naboo

[Dr. Moro Zylus]

The vessel that sat half sunk in the thick greenery of the swamps looked less like the sleek starships of the naboo people and more like a cargo container some enterprising idiot had built thrusters into. It was an ugly, mismatched bit of metal and hardware, and its once pale gray sides were discolored with old oil stains, soot, and and an as of yet unidentified green residue. An observer could be forgiven for assuming the ship had fallen out of the sky. Only the slowly blinking indicator lights gave any sign of life or functionality.

 

And so, the figure seated in front of the craft was a bizarre contrast to the ship. Relaxed in a foldable chair that itself had sunk 1/4 of a meter into the muck, the Umbaran was dressed in faded but mostly clean fatigues that were just a size too big. An unfortunate consequence of the previous owner being a large physical specimen, but a necessary inconvenience if the Umbaran hoped to keep his own clothes from being ruined. He gingerly lifted a booted foot out of the mud with a stocking squelch, and vainly searched for a less foul spot before resigning himself and letting his boots sink back up to his ankles.

 

Dr. Moro Zylus, scholar, visionary, and perhaps one of the greatest geniuses of the current century, hated dirt. He hated insects, and grubs, and rodents both large and small. But it was dirt that he despised most of all. So he found himself impatiently tapping his data pad, the ship's scanners feeding him a jumbled readout as it struggled to separate life signs in the dense foliage.

 

Dr. Zylus rubbed his temple with one hand as he muttered, "Its been hours, how much longe-"

 

The peace of the swamp was broken by a group of masculine voices shouting and grunting, followed by the muffled thumps of a scuffle, and finished by the ringing sound of blaster fire.

 

Once. Twice...

 

Three shots.

 

Dr. Zylus frowned. Either Unit 22 had failed or there had been more then he'd expected.

 

The brush parted as a figure emerged. It was an Umbaran, identical to Dr. Zylus in every way, down to the same face and fatigued, though his were soaked in mud and a little blood. Behind him he dragged a gungan, and Dr. Zylus allowed himself a small smile when he saw the gungan move his head and groan.

 

More than he'd expected then. But Unit 22 had performed as expected.

 

"Put him on the ship and give him to the others. The rest?" Dr. Zylus offered no praise, and Unit 22 would expect none. The clone would not even know how to handle such a concept. What meaning could praise have to a being that didnt see himself as an individual.

 

"Dead. No escapes."

 

"Then prepare the ship for launch. I'll see to the new subject later. Inform Nex and Lor that they are to begin gene extraction and sequencing immediately." Unit 22 offered no acknowledgement, but instead dragged the unconscious gungan up the ship's ramp. He would do as he was told.

 

Now that I've done my souvenir shopping...

 

Gungans, biologically speaking, were not a particularly interesting species, but non-simian originating humanoids could often develop unusual adaptations in the process of their evolution, and something useful might be lurking in their genome. Perhaps a throwback to a more savage ancestor, something that once lurked in the depths of the planet with the other apex predators.

 

Or perhaps not. Regardless, Dr. Zylus would chide himself if he came to Naboo and didnt take a sample of the native population.

 

He keyed up his commlink to the ship's array as he folded his chair and walked back onboard, his time as bait over.

 

"Krath Inmortos? This is Dr. Zylus. I apologize for the sudden visit, but I was in the area and wished to speak with you about our current contract. If it is amenable, please respond with your location, and I will make my way there forthwith. Elsewise, I shall be on this world for the next several days. Thank you, and a fair day to you."

 

He clicked off the commlink.

 

"Kord! A change of clothes please. The robes."

[Dr. Moro Zylus]

"Doctor," Nex called out from the ship's cockpit, "we are receiving coordinates."

 

Zylus ran his hands along the front of his voluminous robe, giving the illusion of the scientist being clothed in the purest white. To those who could perceive into the ultraviolet spectrum, his plain and pure clothing was a blend of both muted and iridescent colors, the patterns reminiscent of the markings of the predators of Umbara.

 

"Understood. Send it to my datapad."

 

A soft trill sounded from the smooth slab resting in the robe's side pocket, and he drew it out and flipped it on with a quick finger motion. His eyebrows shot up a full inch as he read the global coordinates.

 

"Deep..."

 

"Should we take off?" Nex asked, his voice perfectly identical to to his creator's, but absent the tinge of pride that laced Dr. Zylus' every word.

 

"...No," Dr. Zylus said after a brief pause. "Unit 22...how many gungans were out there before? And you said none escaped?"

 

_________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

Cutting through the water, the gungan bongo juked and cut through the water like the seas creatures it had no doubt taken design inspiration from. Seated at the controls, looking for the all the stars like he'd been piloting one of these all his life, was Nex Zylus. Nothing in his expression betrayed the close calls and "learning moments" it had taken for him to turn the stolen submersible to his will. The long scrape on one edge however...

 

Seated behind him were two more exact copies, though dressed differently from the submissive and docile assistant. Where Nex wore a simple long shirt and loose pants (perfect for laboratory work), Unit 22 wore his standard combat gear, including a fresh set of fatigues. And beside the bodyguard say Dr. Zylus himself, resplendent in his "white" robes, eyes closed in thought as they had been for the entirety of the trip.

 

"Coming up on our destination sir. Hailing them."

 

"Bring us aboard immediately," Dr. Zylus replied, finally opening his eyes. He smiled. "Much like the enterprising woolamander, I prefer to engage in battle from a safe distance, surrounded by allies, and in a tactically superior position."

[Dr. Moro Zylus]

10 hours ago, Krath Inmortos said:

Turning, Inmortos regarded the clone with visions as grand as his own. “Doctor. Your arrival is most, unexpected. As you can see, I am about the business of our mutual beneficial arrangement. Shall we secure your souls before I convert the remainder to my will?” 

 

Dr. Zylus took in his employer.

 

Inmortos. Necromancer, monster, immortal sorcerer. Titles from the tales of the superstitious, disregarded by the sane and rational.

 

Or rather, the fearful and ignorant.

 

The umbaran scientist had been exposed to demonstrations of the Sith lord's power, his ability to consciously achieve what conventional science considered impossible. He'd seen chanted spells and nerve-degenerated corpses fill the world with power that scraped at his mind with rotted fingernails. Inmortos was quite real, and the stories of the Sith's power were based in more fact than most would be comfortable admitting.

 

That was why Dr. Zylus was here.

 

This energy field...this "Force phenomena"...was a blind spot in the scientific community. Any literature relating to its study was sparse and filled with superstition, unnecessary reverence, and the worst kind of intuitive leaps of logic. The Jedi and the Sith cultivated reverence and mystery around them as a matter of course, desiring the power that came from misunderstandings and fanciful tales. Yet now, the galaxy stood at the brink of a new dawn of scientific inquiry into this exact subject. The Galactic Alliance, like so many other Core-born federations, had fallen, and this time the regime that sought to replace it lacked the stranglehold its predecessors had enjoyed on the Core. The Sith Empire, for all its power, was a chaotic thing, relying on the individual power of its warlords over any kind of centralized power structure. That kind of institutionalized anarchy, combined with a near constant war, led to one very important thing.

 

Deregulation.

 

A grin broke over Dr. Zylus' face.

 

What a time to be alive.

 

"Krath Inmortos, I am pleased you are looking as well as ever," he said without a hint of irony in his voice. In truth, Inmortos did look much the same as he always had. "My research has hit a dead-end, and I find myself in need of field data, and volunteers. When I discovered that you were in the area, undergoing a military action, well...I couldn't let the opportunity slip by. Judging from the commotion outside, it would seem you're experiencing success." He drew out a Marcan cigarra, palmed a lighter from under his robe, and sparked the little stick to life with a fizzling electrical discharge. Pale purple smoke rose from the cigarra as he put it in his mouth and gave a grateful inhale. The faintest sense of euphoria calmed what little nerves he had and cleared his mind. The world became an easy thing to analyze, clarity present in the absence of those irritatingly persistent negative emotions.

 

"I'm happy to report that you're orders are doing well, with no noted side-effects or mutations. We ran a diagnostic on their genetic code before arriving. 99.999% match." He puffed out another plume of violet smoke. "As for the 'souls' you refer to, if they are Force-sensitive, than you have my sincerest gratitude. Test subjects are difficult enough to find as it is, and volunteers would be a princely gift indeed." He turned. "Nex, inform the others to prepare for new subjects. Have them run through the standard baseline trials. I'll develop a more robust itinerary later." He started to turn away, before something occurred to him and looked back at his subservient clone. "And make sure you get the marrow samples first this time."

[Dr. Moro Zylus]

Dr. Zylus' eyes went wide.

 

"Wait, what are you-"

 

_____________________________________

 

*Cough, wheeze, cough*

 

Dr Zylus hacked up water, his fine robes dark and soaking. Beside him, Unit 22 stood impassive, rivulets of seawater running off of him in steady streams.

 

The necromancer had actually broken the barrier. After that...water, rushing water and darkness. Then he'd felt Unit 22 grab him, and when he finally could breath again, he was here, in another one of the gungan bubble chambers.

 

"Half mad...metaphrenic...athazagoraphobic...gangrenous old corpse..." Zylus cursed between breaths.

 

Then he chuckled. He'd forgotten how sadistic Inmortos could be. He stood up, and felt the distinct weight of his soaking robes clinging to him like a dozen cold blankets.

 

"...Should have known these would be a lost cause anyway." He fiddled with the clasp and let the clothes drop to the bubble floor. Beneath, his clothes consisted of a simple set of pants and a tunic. His lab garb.

 

"Unit 22. I need an Otollan gungan, preferably a healthy, younger specimen." Dr. Zylus gestured further into the chaotic city. "Let's hope Krath Inmortos didn't get swept away." Never once did it even occur to Dr. Zylus that Inmortos might be dead. He'd sooner bet on sabaac then on the possibility that his necromancer employer had finally passed on, and Dr. Zylus knew he was a horrible sabaac player.

[Dr. Moro Zylus]

6 hours ago, Krath Inmortos said:

 “Doctor, it is time we secured transport to the surface. A beast of dark side power beckons. I think it may be one worthy of your research.”

 

"You-

 

Wait, a Force-sensitive entity? On Naboo? Native?" His anger at being nearly drowned evaporated as an enigma posed itself. "There are no records of such..."

 

On the other hand, it would add into known trends. A temperate terrestrial world, larger than average flora presence, a specialized and highly developed predator population, a native civilization attuned with the natural environment... Even the human colonists, with cantankerous neighbors on their doorstep and a wealth of resources simply waiting to be exploited, kept to a harmonious and inclusive lifestyle. That in and of itself should have raised Zylus' suspicion. It was completely out of character for the human species to act peacefully for long periods of time, particularly in the Outer Rim. And yet, all the trends of a world with the potential for a native Force development seemed to be present. And if this creature was one of the predators Naboo was infamous for...

 

"Yes, yes, I believe that's for the best." Zylus barely felt Unit 22 redirect him, and only absentmindedly noted that he'd almost walked through the bubble wall. "A predator will have developed a connection for active use, like records of the Vornskr or Hssiss." He snapped his fingers. "Scans. Brain scans over development into maturity. Maybe we can finally narrow down the commonality of species in accessing the Force phenomena. I know its the amygdala. It has to be. Oh, wait, there may even be a measureable effect! I'll need to get tetraclorin, what I've got won't even cover a standard humanoid. Also...a larger multi-holographic scanner...maybe something designed for livestock..." He stopped as his mind finally hooked back into reality. He stood straight, and nodded.

 

"Yes, I agree. That would be an excellent idea, and could very well further my research." Best to give his employer something to motivate him. "I've been considering splices, and a aquatic, Force-sensitive predator would be a prize addition to my collection."

[Dr. Moro Zylus]

Zylus shivered at the sight of the palace. The power of suggestion? Or the dampened sense of the metaphysical presence of many Force users?

 

He considered the possibilities, the observations he might make, the contacts and connections...

 

...Not worth it. Government involvement never ends well. Autocratic governments least of all. Best to stay out of its path. Private and corporate contractors are where the real growth is.

 

He watched as Inmortos strode, or rather shuffled, towards the palace, emanating discomfort and unnaturalness like they were tangible concepts.

 

One day I *am* going to get that corpse under a scanner.

 

"22, get the gungan, ensure he is properly bound." He picked up his comm. "Nex, home in on my location and come pick us up. Our employer is in a meeting at the moment, and I'm stressed. Work always calms me down. Have the others prepare the lab. Oh, and prepare something to nibble on.

 

...Not seafood. The Reythan Crackers. Just set out a platter."

 

The gungan groaned.

 

"And prepare another tank and get ready for a marrow extraction. We have a new addition to the database."

[Dr. Moro Zylus]

The Tattered Dawn landed, unfortunately, a fair distance away from the commotion. An obvious necessity, given that the ship only barely registered as a friendly thanks to Inmortos, but would not be registered as a friendly presence near the gathering taking place further in the city. This moment was a fulcrum, a point on which the galaxy would turn by the hands of giants. In which direction remained to be seen... 

 

"...but such places in history are wont to crush the ambitious and the mortal. History is but a grand stage, and the best part to play is neither victor nor villain, but rather the viewer. For he outlives them all."

 

"Sir?"

 

"Nothing Nex," Zylus said as he strode up the ramp. "Is Kord-"

 

"Ready with the tank for the new subject. Oh..." Nex stopped as he peered down at the unconscious, but faintly stirring, gungan. "Is that the Otollan variant?" Something familiar and avaricious gleamed in the normally subdued clone's eyes. Curiosity, the coaxium of Zylus' soul, no matter what genetic template he happened to find himself in.

 

"Good," Zylus said, ignoring the question. "Load him in and begin the tests. Where are Gavri and Lor?"

 

"Waiting onboard with your change of clothes and your food sir. It should still be hot."

 

"Excellent. You all do fine work," Zylus said as an afterthought, sighing in relief as he walked back into the little ship that he could truly call his domain. If his clone had any reaction to the compliment, trained (and genetically implanted) stoicism kept it masked. "Once you've completed the tests, put together your thoughts on the addition of their genetic structure to our future projects. A succinct report on the objective details, but don't hesitate to speculate. I'm curious to see what angle you and your brothers will approach these creatures with."

 

Nex smiled, genuine anticipation coloring his pale face. Zylus could not help but smile back.

 

Back among my own minds. Sometimes I wonder why I ever leave.

 

"Sir?"

 

Zylus turned, genuinely surprised Nex was still there. After being given permission to begin extracting this gungan's genetic secrets, Zylus was sure his clone would run off. Karking heck, its what he wanted to do, absent the harsh language of course.

 

"With the latest subjects we've attained...and with us joining up with our employer directly...perhaps we may start some of the more active projects?"

 

Zylus' confusion turned into a wry, knowing smile. That feeling he understood all too well.

 

"I suspect we will. Our current employer is a man of few...pretensions. I doubt he will stop us. He may even become interested in the results. But still...don't start until I say so."

 

Nex bowed his head in a rare show of formal respect. "Of course sir. I won't trouble you anymore."

 

Zylus snapped his fingers as Nex began to leave, remembering something. "Tell Kord not to take off! I'm not sure if we have clearance yet!"