Pandemic

[Farah]

Coruscant
Lower Levels

Disease outbreaks weren’t unusual, especially not on city planets and especially not on the lower levels where healthcare was subpar, the streets were dirty and residents were crammed together in housing projects. It was the perfect breeding ground for an infection to spread like wildfire.

Exactly that had happened. Coruscant’s lower levels were no stranger to disease epidemics. Though usually more annoying than fatal, this one was sending more and more civilians to the already overflowing, understaffed clinics in the area.

Clad in a thin envirosuit, a young doctor stared intently at the screen of a machine designed to analyze infectious diseases. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She groaned, natural speaking voice distorted from behind the rebreather. Turning to one of her colleagues, her voice was flat. “It’s Scurrier’s Disease.” The illness was common on Tatooine, carried by native rodents but rarely did it spread beyond the desert planet. It typically caused fever, coughing and aching joints but symptoms subsided on their own within a week. In the case of the immunocompromised or elderly, it could prove to be fatal.

Adjusting the cap over her hair, Farah started to worm her way out of the crowded clinic. “This doesn’t make sense.” Scurrier’s could only be contracted from rodents, and while there were plenty living between the walls and beneath the foundations of the urban environment, you’d have to release a gigantic herd of scurriers hell-bent on biting people through the streets of Coruscant to generate this many cases. No, something wasn’t quite right here. “Wait,” One of the other doctors called after her, grasping her arm.

Farah glared at the touch. She wasn’t adverse to the sensation, but she hardly knew the man well enough for that. He retracted his grip a moment later. “Where are you going, Navarro?”

“Run a sample through the molecular analyzer. We need to see how its structure changed compared to the sample we have cataloged.” It went unspoken that human-to-human transmission was a very real possibility here. “I’m going to see if I can track down the source.”

She turned on her heel and left, somewhat irritated by her surroundings but found some relief out of the suffocating clinic and onto the streets. Farah worked in a private hospital in the senate district and was used to space and wealthy people, not the filthy masses that occupied the lower levels. She’d been dispatched as part of a team to investigate this epidemic as a sort of show of good faith between the upper levels of society and the dregs that lived beneath them.

If a vaccine were to be developed, Farah knew which caste would be receiving it first.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Farah"]


The sound of coughing, wailing and crying filled the air of the emergency hospital/containment centre, located deep inside Lower Coruscant. The air was rank with the stench of fear, desperation and various foul odors. To Enyo disease was so...messy. Organic bodies were so frail. It rankled her that this applied to her siblings as well. If I had a processing machine at hand, I could instantly solve this crisis, she thought to herself, while a doctor guided her through the building.

"We're not making heads or tails of this. We're certain it's Scurrier's Disease, but it seldom spreads beyond Tatooine, and is carried by rodents," the doctor, who'd been more or less unwillingly drafted by the Iron Fist, spoke. There were dark circles beneath his eyes.

"Coruscant has plenty of those."

"Yes, but you'd need a massive horde to produce an epidemic of this magnitude," the doctor retorted, sounding a bit exasperated. "Sorry. Nerves. Most of us have been pulling all-nighters. I've been...considering that human transmission might be a cause," he said in a lower voice, almost in a whisper.

The face of the Terminatrix showed no emotion. A new thought popped up into Enyo's cynical mind. "If I wanted to weaponise a disease as a bioweapon and test it, this would be the place I'd pick," she spoke.

"What did you say?"

"You're at maximum capacity?" Enyo demanded, without bothering to answer.

"Close. New patients come to the hospital by the hour, and the other clinics are faring no better. It's harsh...but we can't save them all. This virus is more virulent than Scurrier's Disease ought to be."

"It is certain death for the elderly and those with autoimmune disorders," Charlotte interjected, for the HRD had suddenly appeared behind them, without making any noise. The doctor almost jumped when the replicant manifested. "Those of stronger constitution stand a chance. Suggest prioritising those. The others are baggage."

"That's..."

"What you will do," Enyo spoke sharply, cutting off any protest. "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."

"I'm a doctor. I cannot choose who lives or dies. If I don't treat them, they will certainly die."

"Isn't that the progonis anyway? Separate them. The old and weak will be used for testing. Gather them in another building." The doctor wavered. "It has already been ordered. If you want to save lives, you will cooperate and ensure the process takes place in an orderly manner."

The doctor sighed, looking defeated. "Fine. I do this under protest."

"Just do it," Enyo turned to Charlotte. "I want Wes to tighten the quarantine. No one leaves or enters the district without authorisation. If infectees try to breach it, shoot them. Then burn the bodies. Use droids where possible. Looters are to be shot. I want Alexia and Chazzak on this."

 

[Farah]

Farah had gotten nearly two block away from the overcrowded clinic before realizing that she’d left the analyzer back there. The Zeltron groaned under her breath and stopped walking, turning back towards the direction of the hospital and lingering for a moment. She didn’t want to go back there, not after she’d managed to wade through the throngs of sick people. Still, the piece of equipment was vital for cross-matching samples.

Shifting her way back into the clinic, Farah’s eyes zeroed in on the doctor she’d been talking to previously, now engaged with a hard looking brunette. As she made her way closer, she could make out bits of their conversation.

Both brows rose practically into her hairline when the woman demanded that the elderly and infirm be separated for testing while the clinic concentrated their efforts on the relatively healthy that could be saved.

“We’re segregating patients now?” She’d managed to make her way over to the defeated doctor, turning towards the woman who’d given him orders and giving her an instinctual once-over. Not that she took up much of an ethical issue with that. It actually sounded rather nice, but if Farah had been the one to propose it? She’d have been written up, or whatever.

She turned back to the other doctor. “Triage anyone who looks like they’re going into acute respiratory distress away from the others. Two nurses on each patient at all times, running labs until they either stabilize or die.” If they wanted to fight this disease, they would need to research it. There would be a cost.

Shifting on her feet, Farah turned to face the new arrival. “And who is this giving orders to my team? Are you the mayor of the lower district?”

The doctor behind her cringed and looked as if he wanted to interject, but thought better of what he was about to say.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Farah"]


"No. I'm the one actually in charge. Who are you?" Enyo replied frostily, when suddenly a Zeltron dressed like a doctor appeared, demanding answers. For a moment, the woman's intervention gave her pause. Not due to anything she said...but how she looked. She was the spitting image of Joza Perl. Sure, she looked younger and lacked the other woman's scars. Her entire demeanour was different. But she looked exactly like her.


"Doctor Navarro...this is Enyo Typhos. The clinic has an, uh, arrangement with her and her organisation," the doctor spoke up, choosing his words carefully. "Ms. Typhos...this is Farah Navarro. She works at a hospital in the upper city. She's come here to..."


"I wasn't talking to you. She can speak for herself. You have lives to save. Go save them. Charlotte will oversee operations here," the Terminatrix interjected brusquely. Manners were not her strong suit. The doctor's beaten puppy look did not do anything for her. Looking a cross between defeated and offended, he scurried off, though not before giving Farah a 'I hope you know what you're getting into' look. Enyo's shapeshifting HRD minion followed him to make sure he did not suddenly get cold feet.

 

[Farah]

Farah looked mildly amused for a few moments as the doctor made her privy to the nature of the clinic’s relationship to this woman. A small smile brushed her lips when said woman cut him off.

“Yes, Dr. Yayoi. Go and see your patients.” She waved him off with one hand while keeping eyes on this Enyo. “As he said, I’m Dr. Farah Navarro. I’m heading the team of medical professionals from one of the senate district’s hospitals.” Whether that was a lie or not remained to be seen, perhaps she thought it would give her the upper hand in negotiating or perhaps she really did view herself as the leader. In whichever case, the other doctors seemed to be giving the acerbic surgeon her space. Her methods were curt but she got results.

“How, Ms. Typhos, are you in charge of this area? Are you the owner of the clinic?” There was no touch of sarcasm in her words but they did not lack a blunt nature. Given what Yayoi had said earlier, she already had an idea of what was going on here.

Crime was abundant in the lower rings and this Enyo had a certain hardness to her. Plus, she had a posse.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Farah"]


Facial expressions were an interesting thing. A single look could tell you more about a person than a hundred words. Sadly, Enyo's was awkward to read. For her face remained as rigid and impassive as ever when Farah informed her of her status. It might as well have been carved out of granite.


"I wouldn't advertise the fact that you're from the senate district. Plenty of people down here would take that as a reason to try and make money out of you." Zeltrons were always popular on the slave market. Having been sort of intimate with one, Enyo could understand why.


"I'm in charge of the army of goons that keeps this clinic from being burnt down and this district in some semblance of order. And since power comes out of the barrel of a gun, that makes me the one owner that matters." Down here, the police did not bother show up. Go a few levels further down, and you'd run into ghouls.


"What do you know about the pandemic?" she did not raise her voice. Indeed, it had remained soft, but unemotional ever since she'd uttered words. However, it was demanding and authoritative. Behind them there were wails, protests and shouts as patients were being separated. Enyo paid them no mind. Her people would do their job.

 

[Farah]

Initially, Farah looked taken aback at Enyo’s blunt nature. Then her features smoothed over into something more appreciative of said blunt nature. “I see.” Her gaze washed over the mass of sick individuals being treated. Mostly with suppressants for fevers, decongestants for coughing and intravenous fluids for dehydration. All you could really do with Scurrier’s is ride it out and treat secondary infections. There were many more huddled in the waiting room which was likely now thoroughly coated in mucous given the amount of coughing and retching. “I don’t think anyone here has the strength to cart me off to a brothel.”

As Ms. Typhos apprised her of her role in this district, Farah’s brows shifted upwards. “You’re a gangster.” She sighed. Why did it always have to be criminals? First that Thawne guy who didn’t take no for an answer, now a syndicate leader. Still, she had surprisingly little to say on that matter. So long as they didn’t interfere with her and her work, Farah didn’t really worry about what it was they dealt in.

“Not much, I’m afraid.” She admitted. If this woman had power here, then perhaps she’d be able to know more soon. “The virus has only been reported to transfer from a scurrier rat’s saliva. There haven’t been any cases of humanoid to humanoid transmission until now. We don’t know how this started. My guess is that some exotic pets got loose but that doesn’t account for the rapid transmission rate.”

She pulled out a datapad, conjuring a schematic of the virus’s makeup. Two, actually—the images sat side by side, very similar except for a few key differences in structure highlighted in yellow. “What we do know is that the virus mutated to make humanoid-humanoid transmission possible, either on its own or through some sort of bio-engineering.”

The doctor tapped in a few places, bringing up a series of charts and graphs. “Typically Scurrier’s only occurs as isolated cases, mostly on Tatooine so there’s not much data on it. It’s generally not fatal unless you’re very old or immunocompromised. However, we’re seeing an increase in fatalities here. It could be because there’s never been this many people affected at once. It could also be from changes in the virus, or perhaps something in the genetic makeup of the people here making them susceptible—or the people of Tatooine having an unnatural resistance.” She shrugged. There were a lot of factors to consider.

“The fatality rate is estimated to be around 30% at this time. Aside from the elderly and weak, most ‘healthy’ deaths are caused by acute respiratory distress where the body essentially goes into overdrive trying to fight the virus and attacks healthy tissue.”

She paused, looking up away from the screen and at Enyo. "I'd like to find out how this started."

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Farah"]


"I've considered bio-engineering as a possibility. This would be the perfect place to try out a bio-engineered virus. Plenty of test subjects to reach critical mass, general indifference on part of the upper level dwellers and authorities," she commented.


Enyo was no scientist, of course. Archangel had seen no need to provide her with an education that went beyond her need to function as a living weapon. However, she was not stupid. Moreover, she'd served a machine cult that had entertained a morbid fascination for bioweapons and weaponised diseases.


"We need to track down patient zero, the original origin of it arriving. Find out what is special about them. I have units scouring the district." Those that were not busy rounding up infected and putting down looters. Or shooting rival gangsters who might take advantage of the situation. "Questioning infected and discovering who came from outside in the past weeks is a start." Of course, this would take a while on Coruscant, but all roads would lead back to one point.

 

[Farah]

A look of approval washed over Farah’s face as she lowered the datapad. So far she’d appreciated the woman’s blunt approach, no need for flowery words and beating around the bush here. Especially not during a crisis.

“Good.” She nodded. “We don’t have a lot of manpower here.” Farah wasn’t really concerned with the individual lives lost to the disease—she was more interested in them as statistics and a set of symptoms. While capable of empathy, the good doctor didn’t have the problem that others sometimes had when it came to dealing with heart-wrenching cases.

She looked around. “Or space, for that matter.” Or resources. They were really here to do damage control to a hemorrhaging wound, not track the source of this disease. But Farah was good at what she did and managed to get away with going rogue quite a lot. There were rumors, of course, that she was somehow influencing the higher ups.

Turning back to Enyo, she prompted her. “Do you have any place we could contain cases of interest in?”

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Farah"]


Clones are like children escaping cloying parents to leave their own mark, Enyo thought to herself, remembering what [member="Amara Zarides"]' Kar'zun minion had told her many months ago. Clones had the same DNA as their templates. Theoretically, Force clones had the same potential as their mirrors...but in almost every case they followed entirely different. She need only look at herself, Amara or any of their clone siblings.


Joza was by no means weak. She'd shown her mettle in battle. But she was a bit of a bleeding heart, in Enyo's estimation. The type who'd get all caught up in the fate of individuals. Farah did not appear to be like that. She seemed to see the larger picture. Statistics, symptoms, razor-sharp solutions.


"I do. An old church," the Terminatrix responded. "It's been abandoned since a pair of gang leaders had a Red Wedding inside it. It should suffice. We have little manpower, yes. But I'm not going on an absurd crusade to save everyone. Just prevent chaos from breaking out. Let's get going."

 

[Farah]

Farah had no idea what a Red Wedding was. Perhaps she would have asked if time was not of the essence. “Very well. That will have to do.” Beggars couldn’t be choosers, and if there was one thing she’d learned from her short time in the lower levels it was that resources were few and far in between. While she favored the upper caste of society for the resources they provided her, she found quite a few of them to be unsavory. Still, they seemed to horde an unnecessary amount simply because they could.

Rather, she was irritated that they were making her job more difficult. Oh well, at least she’d learn to be flexible in her field.

After making sure that her bag was stocked with the necessary equipment, the group left the crowded clinic for the church.

“How long have you been the impromptu mayor around here?” While not necessarily fond of small talk, she was curious about this strange woman and her gang of subordinates. It would be good to at least exchange some information in the case that they had to work together again.

Strangely enough, the clone seemed unfettered that she was being escorted by a group of gangsters to an abandoned building where she could be slaved, ransomed or a number of other unsavory things. Perhaps it was Zeltron instinct that made her believe this to be the truth, or perhaps she had a penchant for dangerous situations.

“Do you and your people need rebreathers? I have spares.” She found it a little odd that at least their leader wore no sort of environmental protection.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Farah"]


"Bit under a year. Power shifts easily here, but people got the message when those who got in my way wound up dead. I keep things orderly," Enyo remarked. For the time being, it suited her just fine for the good doctor who wore Joza's face to think that she was just a brutish slum lord. Sometimes it was better to be underestimated.


"And no I don't." she added in response to the Zeltron offering her rebreathers. Indeed, while at least some of her minions wore varying forms of environmental protection, their leader did not wear any. But then she did not breathe. She'd taken the liberty of also liberating some of them of this need. Or augmented their lungs in some way. Consent was optional.


Outside of the clinic, there was squalour, polluted air and poverty. Successive governments had made an attempt to clean up Coruscant's lower levels, but each had failed. Eventually, the upper and middle classes had given up. But now the plague had cleared the streets.


Armed goons were on patrol. A good number of them wore sealed armour or riot gear of some sort. They moved with robotic precision. Infected were being herded, amidst please and protests of their loved ones. A man hung from a lamppost, with a placard proclaiming him to be a rapist attached to him. Down here, rough street justice was the best you could get.


Paying the scenery no mind, Enyo approached a nearby speeder. After Farah had been let in, the Terminatrix boarded it herself, whereupon the driver took off, without a single word being exchanged between them. Somehow he seemed to know where she wanted him to go.

 

[Farah]

Farah didn’t look quite convinced. “Are you sure?” Though some of her people wore varying levels of protection, the crime lord was surprisingly barren in that regard. She hoped that Enyo was not overestimating her own ability to not catch the virus.

Outside, Farah wrinkled her nose. She hadn’t quite gotten used to the smell of the lower levels and was quite surprised to be informed that this was just how things were down here, disease or not. She was used to more clinical scents—preservatives and harsh cleaning chemicals, the scents that typically made others balk at the idea of being hospitalized. To Farah, they were the smells that triggered warmth and belonging. Which was more than a little weird but certainly made sense.

After seating herself in the speeder, the doctor made herself busy by way of datapad. “The first reported cases are clustered around Andromeda St.” A few taps and she’d pulled up a map, little red dots lining a backstreet that had been enhanced. Enyo would likely recognize it as a mix of residential and commercial buildings that drew a lot of business. Everything was sandwiched together here, from strip clubs to shopping centers to apartments all on the same block.

She figured that her goons were already there if they hadn’t hit the area yet. “People who live and work there caught it first—those who live in other parts of the district carried it home.” It had spread like wildfire in a matter of weeks.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Farah"]


"Yes," Enyo responded flatly without taking her eyes off the street. Depending on how perceptive she was being, Farah might notice something a bit...odd about the mafia boss. She did not appear to breathe. Neither through the mouth nor nose. Odd. Depending on how good her preternatural senses were, she might also feel Enyo's Force presence.


The smell in the lower levels was appalling. Down here, there were no air scrubbers to prevent the residents from breathing in the horribly polluted air. It did not help that services were almost nonexistent, and as a result garbage was collected irregularly. This added to the stench, along with the general stink of death. Yikes.


"I know the area. Pity. A lot of tribute comes from there," was how Enyo commented on the fact that the outbreak had begun around Andromeda St. The fact that the people living, working and shopping there were dying did not concern her. What concerned was that the outbreak made things untidy.


A pandemic meant chaos and looting. It meant that she'd lose minions and that rackets would cease being profitable because the people paying protection money either died or flooded the hospitals, instead of pursuing their business ventures and paying tribute to her. It also meant that other gangs might get uppidity, and then she'd have to smack them down. Enyo could not stand disorder.


But this can also turn into an opportunity, she thought. The pandemic won't stop at district borders. Other gangs will have the same problem, and they are...just organic. And perhaps the virus itself can be useful. There was a reason there was a market for bioweapons. It helped when you could not get sick. She kept these thoughts to herself.


"Additional units have been dispatched to Andromeda St to lock it down." How? Enyo had not used her comm. At least not visibly. "We will question the infected at the temple first. Some ought to be from the area. You can run tests on them. Once we have all the information we can acquire, we will proceed to Andromeda ourselves." After all, she did not care about the people per se. In the distance, the temple came into view. Given all the armed goons and droids on patrol, it looked less like a place of worship and more like a detention centre.

 

[Farah]

Farah didn’t ask a lot of question. Well, she did—when it came to her work, she left no stone unturned. So it made sense that her mind was reeling with disease related information, less focused on who this bold woman was and how she conducted her organization. All she really needed to know on that front were the basics.

The more she studied the viral structure, the more it was looking as if this were an attempt to test an engineered disease. Not necessarily to see how quickly it could kill, but for virulence. She had to admire how quickly it had spread, though whether all of the mutations from the original Scurrier’s model were man-made or natural remained to be seen.

Ideas were forming in her head, ideas that would need a dedicated laboratory and plenty of sample. And test subjects. Farah liked to use rats first not because of ethical barriers (though that did make them easier to procure), but for how simple they were to breed and care for.

“I would only hope that they are not dead.” She murmured. Of course it was well established by now that neither of them particularly cared for the woe of the masses, only what could be acquired from the. Farah eyed the temple, pursing her lips as she found it less mystical and more reminiscent of a prison. Which didn’t exactly bother her but…things consistently surprised her in the lower levels.

Still, if they were dead…she could run certain tests. But that would limit the amount of information she would get.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Farah"]

Living subjects were preferrable. But even if they were dead, they would be put to use. The speeder swooped down from the sky and touched down upon the ground near the temple. With all the drones and goons on patrol, the building's grand spires and gargoyle statues appeared more than a little foreboding. Tiny wasp droids were in the air, monitoring all who exited or approached the building. The goons guarding it were no ordinary, unwashed, badly trained gangers, but Eisenkrieger cybrogs. Clad in sealed armour that obfuscated their features, they looked like inhumane automatons, especially due to their synchronicity in their movements.

A cyborg soldier greeted them, saluting Enyo. The markings on her shoulder pads seemed to indicate that she was some sort of NCO equivalent. "Warlord," she spoke in a dull monotone. Her voice was modulated by an electronic speaker. "A new batch of subjects arrived a few moments ago. The Doctor is tending to them. Shall I bring you to him?" Subjects, not patients or infectees.

"Yes," Enyo's tone was just as flat. "This is Doctor Navarro. She has green clearance level."

"Yes, Boss."

"Any complications?"

"A few subjects had to be forcibly restrained or stunned. Two were shot while attempting escape."

"Escape is to be prevented at all costs. Live subjects are preferrable, but I'd rather have corpses than let go free and carry the plague with them. Bodies are to be immediately removed. Trouble with other gangs?" she added as they were led into the building. The pew pews had been removed from the grand hall, but the stained glass windows remained. Fittingly, alongside depictions of saints and deities, these included plenty of apocalyptic imagery, featuring demons, fire and brimstone.

"Red Devils are making noise. So are Tzimisce."

"They'll be sorry about that soon."

"Aye. Sucks to be a bloodsucker when your food is sick." the soldier affirmed as they were led to the section that held patients - or rather prisoners. With the temple closed for believers, chambers had been turned into detention areas or medical rooms. Conveniently, the place had once doubled as an orphanage and hospital, providing additional space.

 

[Farah]

Farah stood a little off to the side, looking on with the vaguest hint of amusement at the monotone exchange. The Zeltron was not humorless but felt as if she were in one of those dark and gritty holodramas. She was quite fond of late night programs and often had them playing in the background as she studied.

She gave a quick nod in greeting when her name was mentioned, following along as they entered the body of the church. Things on Coruscant were crammed closely together, even in certain places in the Senate district, though she was fond of the various parks and city squares. The further you went down, the less of that there was to see. The Zeltron tilted her head back slightly, studying the imagery of a nameless religion painted across the tall windows of the chapel. Strangely, Farah was almost reverent to the open space and tall ceiling. She’d never seen something quite like it before, having lived most of her short life in clinical settings.

“I would like to have the bodies examined for cause of death. I understand if that is not possible.” It wasn’t the most necessary piece of this, but it would make things fit a little easier.

As they spoke of other gangs causing trouble, her brows knit together. “Oh,” There was an undertone of concern in her voice. “Are we at risk being here?”

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Farah"]


"Doable," Enyo grunted when Farah suggested that dead bodies be examined. She gave the Zeltron a look when she picked up on the note of concern in her tone. You need to toughen up, she thought.


"This is Lower Coruscant. You've been at risk since you left the upper city," she responded gruffly. Someone would have to show the girl how things worked down here. And probably show her the ropes since it seemed her creator had neglected to do that. Enyo figured it might as well be her. "You haven't been taught how to defend yourself?"


The scene was interrupted when another voice interjected. In contrast to all the robotic guards, it was a very human one. "I'm sure our leader will have things well in hand if ruffians show up. Though I'd request that you take a few live captives, rather than hanging them all. They could be very useful for my work. Certainly to put our theory to the test about the virus being transmitted via humanoid contact." The interloper in question was an old man of medium height with a wrinkled face and receding hair.


He was dressed in an envirosuit and presently taking blood samples from an infectee who had been strapped to an operating table. The improvised laboratory was obsessively clean and sterile, in stark contrast to the general squalour that lay outside of the district. All sorts of medical equipment had been installed in the sealed-off room.

 

[Farah]

All things considered, Farah had lived a rather privileged life so far. A short and non-standard life, but the clone had experienced relatively little struggle. While she was driven and dedicated to her chosen profession, she had advantages that allowed her to focus her all into what she did. Though she was only an apprentice, the Zambrano name had afforded her a slightly elevated level of respect and the ability to do as she pleased, so long as it was permissible by the Dark Lord. Shortly after her creation, he’d told her that she was free to choose her own path so long as she remained bound to serve his family.

And so she did. Not out of loyalty for she did not experience any, but because Farah was not stupid. She recognized that the Zambrano family was responsible for her existence, and to rebel against them now would end up a red stain on the floor. Perhaps if she gained her own power and reputation somewhere along the line she’d rebel, or perhaps she’d be comfortable with her position within the Sith Empire.

“I…” Farah would have balked at the blunt questioning and embarrassment it provoked but she actually seemed to think about it for a few moments. “I have never had the need.”

Her head turned slightly at the new voice, enough to take in the form of the older man without Enyo completely leaving her sights. Though she hadn’t seen the woman fight, something about the way she moved was nearly predatory.

For a moment, her mind left the previous conversation and delved straight into what she did best. “You’d best screen for any infections first. Don’t want any complications ruining that—who knows if the virus is already hiding out in whoever you take.” She paused, somewhat aware that her words may be taken as condescending. She got that a lot.

“Unless you have data on the incubation period?” Her voice rose with a hopeful note, having had trouble pinning that piece of data down given the chaotic nature of triaging the outbreak.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Farah"]


"You always expect someone else, someone with more strength, to hold your hand and keep you safe? The moment you rely on someone else's strength to protect you, youre at their mercy," Enyo said with brutal honesty. She was not quite sure why she was taking an interest, but she did.


Perhaps it was because she suspected that Farah was another clone. Perhaps because she looked like Joza. Maybe it was a combination of the two. Anyhow, this train of thought was cut short when they ran into Zakarias Vont.


"Incubation period is three to four days. The infection period is a lot shorter though," Zakarias replied. His feathers did not appear to be ruffled by her tone. Indeed, he looked upon the Zeltron with something like curiosity.


"Have you found anything new?" Enyo demanded.


"Oh, yes, transmission appears to occur based on soliva, blood or other fluids. Speaking of blood...do come over here and take a look at these samples, my dear. I believe we will find them illuminating. I've been in the process of comparing them with. I've been comparing them with the Tatooine originals," he waved to Farah. Despite the seriousness of the matter, he looked more than a little excited.