Hambone
The creds were good; the job simple.
Sometime during the reign of the Old Republic, several millennia ago, the highest echelons of a wavering government sanctioned a clandestine operation deep within the bowels of its dominion. The Forbidden Levels of Coruscant provided security and secrecy in abundance. They provided an ease of access and collaboration, right in the Republic's heart, unmatched anywhere else in the galaxy. However, a card so tightly held is a card so easily crumpled. The downfall of the Old Republic, and the bureaucratic disaster that followed, ensured that the knowledge of the facility's function and, indeed, its location, was scattered amongst the stars; disseminating into obscurity. Decaying. A secret sundered into random data and elusive clues.
It would take thousands of years until the enigmatic evidence of its loss coalesced into the glint of its rediscovery.
"And what exactly are we lookin' for?"
Hamish was borderline dismissive; his question was issued alongside a half-shrug emphasising 'exactly'. His voice carried beyond his helmet's filter and fought the roaring descent of an elevator, older than many civilizations, for attention. Before him stood an elegant Chiss woman dressed in business attire and wearing a wry smile. Her long, dark, hair blustered in the roar as calculating red eyes regarded him for a moment. Then she turned away, delicate hands clasped smartly behind her back. Elaren, an illusive shadow broker, hacker, and intellectual in her own right, returned a shrug of her own.
"I will know when I find it."
Elaren's tone was similarly dismissive.
They descended through cascading lights of blue, then yellow, then orange, gradually dimming, mutedly bouncing off the plates of Hamish's armour and flashing across his helmet's visor like a fading meteor shower.
"We're nearin' the bottom," he stated, flatly.
"Be prepared," Elaren cautioned, "As far as I am told, this place was built to last; security and all."
Hamish scoffed.
"I got the same brief as you," He said, and ported his blaster rifle across his chest. "Y'scared?"
"Hardly."
There was the slightest hint of a quiver in her voice. Perhaps it was the wind. Perhaps it's what Hamish wanted to hear. Either way, the elevator's ancient gears screeched to a standstill with a small lightshow of sparks and they had arrived. The bottom of the ecumenopolis; the foundations of Republics, old and new. The roar of the elevator subsided in an instant, replaced by the dull hum of an entire civilisation above them.
"Ding," Hamish chirped.
Elaren turned to face him, still wearing that wry smile.
900ABY
The Facility
The Facility
Ding.
It was the last thing he remembered and the first thing he thought. Wrenched from a decades-long slumber, surrounded by hissing gas, Hamish fell out from a rudimentary stasis chamber and onto his knees with a clatter. Clumsy hands wrestled his helmet from his head. He gulped down stale air before retching it back out again. Crimson emergency lights, pulsating, illuminated his re-enactment of a newborn's first moments as Hamish struggled to calm and steady himself. The room was lined with similar chambers on either side, with the rhythmic beeping of a central console juxtaposing his random gagging and ragged breathing.
How did he end up here? How long had he been out?
Who put him here?
That wry smile.
It was supposed to be a simple job.
(Feel free to join in as someone or something stumbling across Hamish -- perhaps you woke him? Either way, planning to explore the facility and find some sort of treasure. 
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