The two agents fell silent for over a minute. Biku could see the lights on the console shift, indicating large spikes in loads starting from the main control computers in which East and West were based, and briefly spreading through many of the branch node computers located throughout the buildings.
"We have not seen death. We do not wish to see it," said West at last.
Biku chuckled sourly.
"We have not lost anyone in this complex yet. Do you really have faith in us?" West continued.
The Bothan paused, his fur ruffling slightly, "Yeah, I guess I do."
"We have faith in you as well. Shall we make a deal?"
Unsure of where the agents were going with this, Biku nodded, more out of curiosity than any real hope.
"None of us must lose faith in ourselves, not for a nanosecond."
"That's sweet, West, but-"
"And if we pull through this together, you must help us rebuild the colony!"
Biku was surprised. It was not in their nature to interrupt or shout, unless they detected a threat and sought to establish a commanding presence. They were serious.
"I don't know how we're going to do that, but if we do, I'll be more than glad to help. It's a deal."
What little they found did not suggest a clear course of action. Information on Bothans did not come easily in a near-exclusively Human colony. Both agents agreed, though, that a few facts lent a sliver of hope. Bothans could withstand higher body temperatures than Humans, kept lower protein reserves, and, in an ancient echo of their ancestors, could sustain a coma-like hibernation state in times of distress, even though modern Bothans no longer did so on a normal basis.
Planning a course of action as Biku deteriorated proved far more difficult. The agents knew they were not medtechs. They weren't even close. Both suggested and adopted some common-sense tactics such as installing fresh filters in the Control Center, adding an ultraviolet sterilization device to kill any spores trapped by the filters, and stockpiling a nutrient-dense liquid diet suitable for Bothans.
Beyond that, they did not know what to do. East and West looked down at their sleeping ally, spread out on the couch. After another fruitless database search and hours spent weighing less-than-reliable numbers coming from the Galactic Holonet, West began to feel discouraged, but expressed that discouragement only to East.
"We've found much less procedural information than anticipated," sent West, "The droids are not programmed for health care and neither are we. Perhaps we're in over our heads."
"We're 2,000 feet tall," replied East, "What could be over our heads? Remember the deal."
West forced himself to come up with other ideas, which was hard given the shortage of hard facts, "Perhaps if we use a known procedure as a model for treating him..."
"But conventional repair models will not suffice. We cannot fix him in the sense that we get ourselves fixed, using maintenance workers and droids and spare parts. There is no one we can file a work order with on his behalf. His race is supposed to repair itself from within, and the processes are not analogous."
"Then we must move up a level in seeking a model, until we find stable analogies." It took but a second for West to alter his search. "What about a structural integrity breach?"
"Yes, yes," sent East, "Fixed loads will redistribute. Variable loads must be removed or shifted away from breach. Extra support to brace the damaged area must be set up until repairs can be made."
"It is as if this organism is loading down his structural supports to the point of breakage. We must find a way to brace him, prevent the loads from causing a cascade failure."
"First step, identify compromised systems."
"On my way," said East, immediately delving into the files gathered by Health Services.
Droids would wake him five times a day for a dose of the liquid diet, carry him to the restroom, and on every third day dip him into the hotel Jacuzzi.
One day, Biku wasn't sure which, he awoke with his skin crawling and his joints swollen to the point of immobility. Plus he was freezing. He tried to gather his resources and his thoughts to make his discomfort known to the agents, but before he knew it he was in cold metal hands being lifted away. The notion hit him that he should be grateful he was still alive, and he blacked out again.
He woke up mere minutes later to unbearable heat. The droids had set him down into the hot tub again and were holding him there despite the violent spasms that wracked his whole battered body. His breath was forced out of his lungs, so he couldn't even cry out. Finally, his own circulation picked up, allowing him to soak up the heat. He relaxed, opening his eyes enough to see his rusty strands being swept by the underwater currents. The joint swelling seemed to be subsiding, but his skin still felt like it was crawling. Whatever parts weren't covered in fur revealed a pimply red rash.
Biku stared up at the cameras, taking a deep breath before uttering through a still-raw throat, "What....happened to me?"
"Side effect, from the antiviral Vytoctanise," said West.
"You idiots!" he gasped, "Bothans are allergic to that!"
"That's why we prepped your immune system with Cyrdetanol. That's what's causing the swelling."
"What medical text did you get that treatment out of?"
There was a pause, an uncomfortably long one.
"We didn't," West admitted at last.
"Oh, great! First you try to boil me alive, then you try to poison me!"
"No anaphylactic shock from the Vytoctanise, which appears to be working."
"You two aren't doctors. You aren't pharmacists. You aren't researchers. You're sentient skyscrapers and you're making these treatments up!"
"It seemed like it would work," said West.
"Saw no evidence that it wouldn't," said East.
"We had to try something."
"We didn't want to lose you."
"We had a deal."
"We did plenty of research."
Biku knew when the agents started talking in short, quick sentences one right after the other, something was up. He squinted at the camera, challenging the agents with his expression.
We were bored," admitted West.
"It is bothering us to look day after day at empty halls, empty offices, the deserted plaza, closed stores. We had to try.."
"We even miss your full company."
"The germ counts in the filters have leveled out."
This time, it was Biku who paused. The droids moved closer to massage his achy muscles. At last he uttered, "Really?"
"It's a rigorous cycle we have you on, partial immune system suppression, antiviral therapy, feeding, then immune system support and induced hibernation, but the deterioration has stopped for now," said East.
Biku smiled, the first time he smiled in weeks. He examined his arm. New hairs were beginning to grow where he had lost clumps. "And I thought you two motherless, vertically-overendowed steel-and-concrete behemoths just enjoyed torturing me. I don't know how, and may never figure it out, but somehow Gell managed to put a piece of himself into the two of you. The more time I spend here, the more noticeable it is, each of you in your own way."
"We've alerted Health Services on their orbiting outpost. They don't know whether this treatment can be applied to others, but it looks as if we will be able to salvage the colony with its remaining healthy members."
"That's good for you two."
"And for you."
"I'm not out of the woods yet."
"Remember our deal," lectured West.
The odd group reached the lobby level, emerging into the airy, sunlit space with marbled walls and shiny ceiling fixtures. It was so empty the agents could hear Biku's claws clicking on the floor. The Bothan understood then how the stony quiet had bothered the agents so. During a typical day those high ceilings echoed a symphony of activity below them. Even normal overnight activities had several people working or on the move from place to place. The plague brought about a desertion worse than when Tarrason Central was some bare steel framework, way before they agents themselves were launched. Their active minds simply did not have a means to cope with emptiness.
And because of the agents, Biku realized, he himself was still alive and sane. Thus, he kept up his determined stride, bee-lining for the Management Office to assume the seat Gell had filled so proudly. The droids remained behind him, vigilant in case he should stumble, but otherwise not interfering with his efforts. The agents unlocked the office on Biku's approach. They had been watching him all along and were rewarded by his toothy grin upon attainment of his goal. He dismissed the droids with a wave of his hand as he used his other hand to activate his desk terminal.
The agents directed the trio of droids to wait outside the office in case they were needed. Then the two directed their attention back to Biku as he studied the screen. Finally, they could hold it in no longer.
"So, can we open? Can we open?" East ventured excitedly.
Biku rolled his eyes upward toward the camera, "Boys, do you mind? I'm sitting here in my pajamas. Don't forget, you've been able to take much better care of yourselves than I have."
Less than a minute passed before West asked, "Are you sure we can't open? We'll make sure you're left alone."
"Is there anybody outside waiting to get in?" Biku craned his pointed ears outward, spreading the strands of fur growing on their tips. After a long silence, he added, "I didn't think so." He then put his feet up on the desk while his records synchronized with Health Services and the colony government. "We have plenty of work to do ahead of us," Biku remarked as he scanned the screen, "because you sure as Sith aren't going to like these numbers. Remember that 10% vacancy rate you two were so proud of? Well, now it's over 80%."
"That's not enough to keep everything going!" said West, alarmed.
"Oh, it gets worse," Biku sighed. "Faction lines and settlement patterns have shifted. We're not as isolated as we once were, but in order to attract more colonists we'll have to advertise. Advertising might bring unwanted attention from troublemakers. We'll need to improve security for our new colonists but we won't have the resources to do so unless we have new colonists. Those laser cannons on your roofs aren't going to cut it. We need space defenses and a fighter squadron. Plus we need to put together a target drone for you two, because you've barely used the lasers since you were initially calibrated."
"Shamus on the 115th floor wanted to have a contest between us two to see how many birds we could pick off in an hour, but it seemed to us a waste to harm living things without provocation, and it seemed as if he was going to use the contest as an excuse to run an office pool," commented East.
A ruffle wave passed through Biku's rusty fur. Gell had wanted the agents to be kindly and non-aggressive, but they could also stand some toughening up.
"On the bright side, we won't have much competition. You'd have to go halfway across the galaxy to find any other comprehensive state-of-the-art business facilities. We could position ourselves as the unofficial hub of this whole region of space."
"So where do we start?" asked West.
"Well, we'll have to start with the colonists. We must figure out who we want to settle here and push what's left of the Colony Council to attract those people. And before we start going forward, we should know where we've been. I'll bring you guys up-to-date on our history based on what I learned from Gell and his records. You guys are only seven years old. You'll need a longer perspective than that."
Biku paused to make himself some tapcaf, the first he'd had in weeks. The potent beverage rolled down his throat and invigorated him from the outside in.
"This colony was founded by Kelvan Tarrason, for whom you guys are named. As a teenager, he was blinded and scarred by radiation from a conflict that engulfed his homeworld and caused severe ecological damage. As he grew to adulthood the Force began to run strong in him. He began to have visions of a new world away from the fighting, a world promised to those who renounced war.
"Their homeworld was more than happy to get rid of its peaceniks, and the colonists, after some initial alarm at the huge distances involved, were happy too. Kelvan was right.
He named the planet Querylwan. Like Gell, he was unable to have a family of his own. The people he left behind were so contented they forgot about space travel and lived peacefully for centuries.
"The second wave of colonization came from the Corporate Sector. This much smaller and much more recent group was apparently ousted from their Direx or something and came here looking for new business opportunities. They convinced the people here they would make them a wealthy elite without compromising much of their lifestyles. Then it fell to them to raise capital for their schemes. Your friends Bey and Ordin emerged as the leaders when they chose as their targets the rich merchant families displaced by the fall of Coruscant.
"Gell was the most prominent among those in the third wave and as soon as he figured out what Ordin and Bey were up to he brought me in to serve as his right-hand man. By then it was too late for him to pull out. Then he was inspired to create you two agents as additional protection. Now we know that the increasing amount and density of the population and the spread of human settlement allowed the plague to reach critical mass."
"So Gell came alone," said West, "without family. Do you think he was the last of the Selardins? If he were, I'd be surprised he didn't make continuing his line a higher priority. It seems as if we were last minute substitutions."
"That's very perceptive of you," Biku continued, "While Gell seldom discussed his family tree and seemed to have most of his ancestral fortune, I don't think he was the last Selardin."
"Perhaps other Selardins would be good colonists," said East.
"Perhaps," said Biku, "but there are still some of the original Corporate Sector emigrants pulling strings on the Colony Council. They may feel threatened by an influx of Coruscant merchants. We should, however, consider their strategy for developing supply and distribution channels for raw materials. If any colonies in this region of space are going to grow and prosper, they need good access to raw materials, and out here, you can't have long supply chains. Pirates would get at them. We're at an advantage due to this planet's climate, our farming colonists, and this system's big population of metallic planetoids. Making you was as simple as dragging one over for refining. On the other hand, success at becoming a supply point might draw the pirates right here."
"Pirates have offices?" asked East.
"I didn't mean 'here' as in Tarrason Central. I meant 'here' as in the undeveloped areas of Querylwan, or elsewhere in this system. This brings me to another issue. You two have gotten pretty good at discerning speech and the nuances of grammar, but it seems to me you are totally unprepared to deal with deliberate misinformation given you by people."
"Deliberate misinformation? You mean what Gell called 'lies'?"
"Yes, West."
"It is a concept we do not understand. What could be the purpose of this given that we can fact-check their statements?"
"Not everything can be fact-checked, particularly references to events that are supposed to occur in the future."
Biku paused for a moment to let the twins process that through. His system monitoring screen charted spiking loads and bursts of communication between the two, but nothing out of specifications. Apparently, they were handling it.
"We understand," said East, "like the time that systems man showed up at night with his wife saying there was an interface board in the High Lounge he had to check right away. When I took him up there he insisted I lock the door behind them and turn out the lights. I wondered how he was going to check a board in the dark, but it turned out neither of them even tried. Even with my sharp hearing and infrared detector, I couldn't figure out what they were doing, but they assured me we would not be harmed by it and that I should just ignore it. None of my systems were being accessed, so I only alerted West just in case."
Biku looked down and shook his head to keep from laughing, "Well, that's an example, exactly, even though their intentions were harmless."
"So what exactly were they doing, if not fixing a board? Neither of us could figure that out."
"That's another issue altogether, one that has nothing to do with the situation at hand. We've got to develop an advertising campaign and target desirable colonists. You two are natural customer-service types. West has a state-of-the-art multimedia production center. I have experience and business-savvy. We should be able to come up with an outstanding campaign if we combine our talents, something that would make Gell proud."
