Chapter Text
“For once, I wish we’d kept those Sith suits.”
The brown-haired man’s remark was met with enthusiastic nodding from his younger companion.
“Or at least the helmets.”
“Didn't that pharmacy have some breath masks? We could get some next time we're there.” He sneezed as a stray draft wafted up another lungful of the moldy, putrid stench.
“There’s no shortage of Sith in the Upper City either, Carth? We could probably get our hands on another pair of suits without too much trouble… and they would be free of charge.”
"Have to admit, you have a point there.” Carth chuckled quietly. “Although, Lar, even if you plan on crashing another Sith party, that sleep aid you put in their drinks was not free."
"Still cheaper than a rebreather? Plus the armor itself is not that bad, if… somewhat flashy," Lar returned the smile. His was a bit lopsided due to the extensive scars that ran down his head and neck.
“You stick out like a torch as it is, fluffhead,” a Rutian Twi’lek girl snickered patronizingly from behind them. “No need to add extra glitter!”
“Sorry, Mission, that can’t be helped.” He was indeed looking as out of place in the Taris Undercity as one could possibly be. Tall but lanky, with milky white skin and a headful of short blonde twists, he practically glowed in the mostly gray-and-brown landscape. Even the drab clothing didn’t help.
“I know, I know, Humans are born like this sometimes. My brother was once seein’ this girl…” Mission stopped her happy chittering to squint at something in the distance. “Oh, by the way, if you want some helmets, here they come.”
“What?” Carth looked in that direction as well. “Oh, dammit.”
A patrol of Sith soldiers has just rounded the corner, led by a red-uniformed lieutenant. Their determined beeline left no doubts that they had already spotted the trio.
“All right, you two, stay back and let me do the talking.” Carth nervously checked the security papers in his pocket, then straightened as the Sith came closer.
“You there! Civilians! This is a restricted area. State your business!”
“Same as yours, officer,” Carth waved the papers at him. “We're to… augment the search efforts.”
“Hm. Let me see those…” The lieutenant carefully examined the laminated flimsi. “Ah, you’re those trackers the Commander sent down, right?” His helmet tilted a little towards Mission. “Isn’t she a little young for this line of work? It’s nasty down here.”
“She’s a local. Knows the terrain.”
“Been nosin’ ‘round here since I was a kid,” Mission put on her best stupid grin and earned a stern look from Carth. The Sith officer, though, only chuckled.
“All right, then. Just be on your guard. The rakghouls seem particularly hungry today. We’ve already lost contact with one patrol.”
“Maybe they’re just out of comms range?”
The Sith shook his head.
“Shouldn’t be, if they stayed on the search grid. That, and they’ve missed two regular check-ins already. It’s either the gang ambush or the rakghouls.” He sighed. “I would’ve gone to investigate, but, you know, orders.”
Lar looked at Carth silently. His fingers brushed the medkit on his belt. The older man frowned, then addressed the Sith officer again.
“Where were they? If we pass by while on the trail, we could look into the situation.”
“You would?” The lieutenant’s tone turned to pleasant surprise. “I’d appreciate that. They were to search a sector due south of the village. Reported no disturbances in the nearest quadrant and moved further south. No contact since.”
“We’ll see what we can do.” Carth looked around. “But we should get going. You know, orders.”
The lieutenant nodded sagely.
“Don’t we all know. Oh, and be careful around the area about a klick to the north.” He pointed over his shoulder in the direction the patrol came from. “There's a Rep survivor, but he's infected. I'd've taken him in for questioning anyway, but we've run out of serum, and I'm not risking bringing a rakghoul into the base."
Carth somehow executed a reasonably good nonchalant shrug.
"We'll take care to avoid him, then. Thanks for the heads-up."
"That's not what I'm talking about. We've mined the place. When he mutates, he'll blow himself up." The patrol commander hesitated for a second before adding, "If I were him, I'd step on a mine myself."
"Why not just shoot him down, then?" Lar's sudden remark came just in time to draw attention away from Carth's uneasy pause.
"Hid in the pod, the mynock." The Sith shrugged. "His loss. But enough chatting! You've got your job to do, and I've got mine."
"Right." Carth has recovered. "See you back at the base."
The officer only nodded as he motioned for his men to follow.
Carth waited until they were well out of earshot, then opened his mouth, but Mission got ahead of him.
"If we circle 'round this building, I know a shortcut. It’s a real dump, but we'll come out right on top of that pod and your friend."
“What makes you think he’s our friend, kid?”
“Hey, no need to be so defensive, old man.” She shot him a sly smile. “I’m just smart. You two are offworlders, but you also have some beef with Vulkars, and it’s not like they’re Exchange-big to have enemies off Taris. Now, what everybody’s pissed at the Vulkars for right now are those downed Republic pods, and, like, offworlders looking for these are generally Sith, but you ain’t them - I saw those very papers on old Gadon’s desk and I know where they came from. Me, I think that pretty much spells “Republicans, but the luckier ones”, amirite?”
The men exchanged amused looks. Lar shrugged.
“That’ll be those street smarts at work, I guess.”
Mission giggled. Carth let out an exasperated sigh.
“Whatever. It’s not like Gadon Thek hasn’t come to this very same conclusion. Still, I’d be really grateful if you kept that little revelation to yourself, kid. I’ve no desire to spend the rest of my already miserable days in some Sith cell.”
“If I wanted to do that, I’ve just had a whole Sith patrol to sell you to.” She winked at him. “Don’t worry. These motherfuckers ain’t no friends to any Tarisian. So are we going ‘round there or what?”
"No." Lar shook his head. "We want to head south first. That lost patrol might have serum, and if that survivor is indeed infected, I'd like to have a means to actually help him." He started in the intended direction.
Carth made his way to the front of the party, putting on his stern look again, this time for his younger comrade.
“We may already be too late. It’s been quite a few days since the battle.”
“Then that serum might be of use to us, Commander.”
Even though the pod was clearly visible in the light from a large hole it smashed in the upper layers of buildings, actually getting to it was proving a challenge. Fragments of duracrete, metal, and transparisteel littered the lichened Undercity ground, adding to the trash that accumulated there through centuries. Several walls in the area looked decidedly unstable, whether because of impact or decay, it was impossible to tell.
To add insult to injury, they didn’t have anything resembling a mine detector. As the only one on the team with an even rudimentary sapper skill, Carth kept probing the ground before him with a long rusty rod he’d picked along the way. Mission went in his footsteps, closely followed by Lar.
About ten meters away from the pod, he stopped and raised his hand.
“Okay, you two, fall back.”
Lar immediately tugged the young Twi’lek behind a large chunk of duracrete they’d just passed. Meanwhile, Carth knelt before the suspicious patch of ground and carefully lifted the sod with the bar.
From under the lichen, a landmine’s sensor blinked at him lazily. The soldier thumbed his pocket light on and tried to get a better look.
“Sithspit.”
“Everything alright there, Commander?”
“Found it. Can’t disarm it. Not without something better than a stick.”
“Well…” Lar came into view, looking around. “Mission, can you see anyone nearby?”
“Nope.”
“Okay.” He turned to the pod. “Anyone there? My name is Larion Lothlangar, medic assistant from the Endar Spire . Can you hear me?”
Something rustled near the pod, then a hoarse voice answered:
“Medic? Really? Do you Sith bastards think I’m that stupid?”
“Relax, soldier.” Carth stood. “Commander Carth Onasi here, too.”
“Sir!” Evidently, the survivor recognized his superior officer’s voice, as he rose into full view from behind one of the upturned duracrete plates. “You’re alive!”
“I am. Is that you, Petty Officer Quinzo?”
“Reporting for duty, sir.” The man smiled and straightened into a military salute. Tried to straighten, at least; even at this distance, it was easy to see he was shaking.
“At ease.” Carth returned the smile. “Look, we ran into some Sith who told us they mined the area. Did you see them do it? Can you tell me where the mines are so we can try and get to you?”
“I… Sir. I saw them do the work, all right… but you better don’t come near me. I’m… sick.” Quinzo stepped a little closer, and now they could see that his face was greyishly pale, glistening with perspiration. “I don’t know what it is, but as soon as the Sith got a closer look at me, they fucked off top speed.”
“That’s what the medic is here for, Kam. Now come on, tell me about those mines.”
“No, wait! It’s really no good. It’s not your common cold. I can feel it. Sorta. Under my skin. It’s like… something’s growing. Changing. Started off where one of those grey beasts bit me. And the Sith were shouting something about the infection and… and mutation. Sir, you’ve seen more of this cursed rock than I…” He wiped the sweat off his brow with his sleeve. “Do you know what they meant?”
Carth sighed.
“I do. It’s the rakghoul plague, or so the locals call it. And you’re right, it’s no common cold. But it’s okay. We’ve got the cure with us.” He waved at Larion, who took one of their hard-won vials out of his medkit and showed it to Quinzo. “We just need to get it to you across this bloody minefield. Which is why I need you to tell me about the mines now , Kam.”
The soldier paused. Then his shoulders slumped.
“Not much to tell, Commander.” He winced in pain and clutched his side. “This is the only passage to the pod not blocked by the debris, and it has three SoroSuub FM-21s in it. From what I can tell, their sensor radii are interlocked, too.”
“Oh, so if we so much as breathe around four meters from this point, we’ll get not one but three loads of shrapnel to our faces? How really karking considerate of the Sith.”
“Yeah. You could try to shoot them, but in these Hutt’s guts you’ll never put enough distance between you and the explosion.”
“Agreed.” Carth sighed again. “All right, wait a second. If I could find a longer rod, maybe I could push the vial to you.”
“Across this?” Larion gestured at the ground. “It’ll get tangled in the mess, Commander. Or break.”
“You have a better idea?”
“I think so.” He pointed at a cornice on a wall next to the passage, where some metal rebar protruded from the crumbling duracrete. “Look, these go well over those four meters. I can climb to him.”
“No karking way, Crewman Lothlangar! May I remind you that it’s only been a couple of days since you’ve had a concussion yourself? You are not climbing walls in that state. I’ll go.”
“With all due respect, you won’t reach the bars, and what I definitely can not do right now is give you a lift. Besides, it’s literally my job.”
“Weeeeeell, if you give me a lift, fluffhead…” Mission piped up from behind them.
“No karking way!” Both men shouted in surprising unison.
Quinzo snorted, then sucked in a sharp breath as another painful spasm coursed down his body.
“Look, Commander… Carth. I appreciate this, but you really gotta go. It’s too risky. I ain't having you getting blown up or whatever for my sorry ass.”
Carth huffed angrily, looking around in search of some solution. Larion frowned at the blinking mine, then carefully passed his medkit to Mission.
“Hold on to this for me, will ya?”
And then jumped, trying to reach the nearest bar.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!” Carth yelled.
“My job.” First time proved to be a bust; Lar adjusted his position and tried again, this time hooking his fingers over the rusty metal.
“Oh for… crying out loud,” Carth muttered something much more colorful under his breath. “Try to keep your knees bent! These mines have a top sensor radius as well.”
“Copy that,” Larion moved one hand to the next bar. “And you better get around some corner. Just in case. You too, Kam.”
Everyone obeyed but kept peeking out of cover. To be sure, Lar’s gangly silhouette on a wall was a sight to behold - like an overgrown child on a gymnastics ladder. Defying the gravity of the situation, Mission snickered.
“You’re doing great, fluffhead! For someone who’s not a Wookiee.”
“Don’t distract him, kid,” Carth muttered, not looking away from the climber.
From the pod, Quinzo’s bark of a laugh could be heard as well.
Then it morphed into a literal bark.
“Hold on, Kam,” Larion was about halfway across the minefield. “I’m almost there.”
No response, save for sounds of labored breath. Lar swung a little, trying to skip one bar.
He had only just completed the move when Quinzo’s contorted face showed from around the edge of the plate. He looked at the medic with glazed eyes.
“Run,” he managed to force out, before falling and letting out a hideous scream.
“Lar, get out of there!” Carth yelled, shoving Mission deeper into the cover and drawing one of his blasters.
Quinzo’s back arched, then relaxed, then arched again. The muscles bulged under his skin, tearing the fabric of his uniform; the skin itself got grayer by the minute. New violent waves of spasms threw his body onto the open ground in front of the pod.
Hanging from the bars, Larion seemed to be transfixed by the grisly sight. Carth bit his lip and tried to aim at the transforming rakghoul.
“Haul your ass, you idiot!” He fired but missed the rapidly moving target.
The medic finally unfroze, letting go of the bar he caught just half a minute earlier. At the same time, a convulsion threw the creature dangerously close to the minefield. Carth cursed.
“Come on!”
But Larion didn’t turn around. Instead, he drew his blaster with his free hand. Aimed. Waited. And fired.
The screaming stopped abruptly as the bolt went straight through the rakghoul’s head.
What was once Petty Officer Kam Quinzo with the Republic Navy now lay on the filthy ground, unmoving, shreds of uniform sticking to the slick gray skin. His arms grew longer, legs were bent at an awkward angle; the skull attained a distinctive rakghoul shape, but the face still remained human, if forever frozen in a grimace of pain.
Lar holstered the gun and started climbing away, slowly and laboriously.
Carth was waiting for him at the edge of the safe zone and quietly put a stabilizing hand around his shoulders when he swayed a little after dropping down.
“Wow, that was one lucky shot, fluffhead.”
“Yeah,” Carth muttered. “Some luck.”
The medic gave a small shake of his head.
“These spasms weren’t random. There was a… pattern to them, of sorts. Bouts and pauses. Figured I had a better chance shooting during the pause. Shrapnel is faster than me.” His voice was absent, even. He didn’t look at either of his companions.
“Well, that's true.” The soldier patted his shoulder. “There wasn’t anything else you could do, Lar. We should go.”
"Right." The young man slipped from under his arm and started off into the Undercity's perpetual dusk.
He didn’t look back, and so didn’t notice Carth’s long, thoughtful stare.