Not So Ancient Evil [Jabiim]

[Fromikeable]

Being an expert on pre-hyperdrive civilization was a funny thing in a galaxy that had existed with the technology for milenia. Even within the historical community, such experts were considered odd folks, almost more in line with the study of how civilization came be to be rather than studying civilization itself. The pre-hyperspace world was so far removed that even the history that followed, the galaxy that had known no Republic or Empire, seemed like something from a novel.

Rahse was sure that Xim’s Empire would’ve made for a fine novel, at least.

Xim the Despot, son of the infamous Xer VIII, had certainly inherited his family’s talent for conquest and malice. Yet even among them, he had been the exception. The man had pioneered brand new methods of battle droid design, weapon production, and army organization. Such had they all been that even today, nearly twenty thousand years later, much of it not only survived, but thrived.

What gave a man that uncreative that sort of intuition? Rahse intended to find out.

Specifically, Rahse had come to Jabiim to hunt for one of the Xim’s Empire’s oldest spaceports. The planet’s weather had a knack for making old ruins hell to find, but after a few fresh, targeted scans of the planet’s crust, the professor had managed. Evidently, the remains of the once bustling center of commerce now sat mostly submerged in a swamp along the equator, buried beneath equal parts mud and water. The expedition would be rough going, to say the least.

He needed to prepare. And for that, he needed a doctor.

Evidently, he wasn’t alone. The alerts from the Jabiim Congress had been clear; the entire planet was facing an epidemic, and they would not be held responsible for non-citizens contracting it. Anyone that landed did so at their own risk, free of obligation. Undeterred, Rahse had done so, but not without new precautions. Long sleeves and tough pants kept his skin exposure to a minimum as he walked the dirt streets of Cobalt Station, a face mask draped across his mouth and nose. The base, property of the Jabiim Congress, was positively flooded with the infirm. Jabiimi of every creed lined the streets, some in tents, others facing the mid-day sun, all desperate for aid. The overwhelmed soldiers in the base proper did their best to keep order, with relief ships not arriving as often as they needed to be.

Rahse could only pull his hat closer and wonder. Tropical climates could spread disease, but Jabiim had the same medical technology as the rest of the galaxy. Could it be that…?

Set to idle wonder, Rahse finally made his way through the fort’s doors, striking into its buildings. The medical staff about were all overtaxed, to be sure, but some still managed to direct the Zeltron onward. It was only after a few tries that one finally directed them toward the woman most qualified to help “a man looking preventative advice”.

As he neared, he cleared his voice. ”Pardon me, Doctor Bellamy?” Nudging his hat up, his green eyes leered out, studying her face as he spoke.

”I understand that you are the expert to see regarding physical trauma.” Stretching out a dark red hand, Rahse smiled beneath his face mask. ”I am Doctor Hyul. What my doctorate lacks in medical training, I hope to make up to you today in affecting this plague.”

[Meira]

Jabiim had, by far, been the worst project location he'd ever been sent to. The constant rain, the mud, the stench. It was a far cry from the gold beaches and ocean breezes of Corellia, that was for sure. But it was an important project all the same. Less so in the sense that it would bring him notoriety or fame, but more in the sense that he might have blown his brains out of something hadn't come along. It'd been far too long since his last project and Eamon had been so tired of himself that even the muddy backwaters of Cobalt Station seemed like a reprieve. He'd regretted it at soon as he arrived, of course, but the work managed to keep himself from the worst of his bad habits, so that was something.

At least until he'd hit a wall in the research. The project was to revitalize the ancient practice of "toad licking" that apparently been something of a panacea on the planet ages before. It was not the literal licking of toads, of course, at least not in its most recent iteration, but the practice must have evolved from something like that at some point. The people of Jabiim had discovered that a local species of toad, known as pukers, could live practically anywhere, and never seemed to succumb to the poisons, venom, and other nastiness common to the planet. How exactly the people discovered the chemical secreted by pukers could only be guessed at, but the name of the practice elicited a certain mental image.

In the millennia since, the people of Jabiim had discovered countless ways to use the puker chemical in medicines to treat local afflictions. With the recent plague, one of the first reactions was to use the chemical. But to the horror of the locals, even the pukers seemed to be susceptible. That was where Eamon had come in. His research on Jabiim had been centered around the genetics of the pukers, and how they'd evolved. If he could pinpoint the sequences that made pukers so resilient, he could likely alter them against the plague as well, rendering the puker chemical effective again. With little training in pathology, Eamon could not continue his research until more was discovered about the plague itself. He now spent most of his time at Cobalt Station running procedural tests on the pukers, sequencing variations of their DNA, and drinking.

He was looking to engage in the last of those activities, and had decided to try his luck at inviting doctor Bellamy along. Eamon and Bellamy -he was not acquainted with her enough to call her by her first name- had worked nearby each other for some time now, but never with each other. Cobalt Station was not the biggest of places, and with more and more locals falling ill and turning up there hopeful for treatment, it was feeling even smaller. Eamon had already ruled out a number of others working at the station as possible drinking partners. The majority seemed too tight-assed or simply too annoying. From the little he'd seen of Doctor Bellamy, she had not seemed to be either of those things, and Eamon was hopeful. His search brought him to her location just as another being was introducing himself to her. Catching the last of his words, Eamon chuckled as he leaned against a doorway.

"If your doctorate is something closer to theology," he said, arms crossed at his chest, "then you're too late. We already had a half dozen Sacred Way priests come through bent on praying the plague away. It didn't stick."