Even if he didn't mean a word of it, and Graff had no way of knowing that, Tager's implied threat was all that was needed for the floodgates to open and Graff began to babble. He'd heard rumours about what happened to people who didn't give the Corps what they wanted after they'd signed on, that's how his mentor had vanished and he'd been a Doctorman! Who knows what they'd do to him...?
"It's true! All of it! Everything we thought! The natives confirmed that the temple is of Precursor construction, it is unfathomably ancient and there is something at the centre. I don't know exactly what yet, translating what little I can is taking time." It was at this point that he knew what the next question was going to be and there was no avoiding, all that was left to do was hope that somewhere deep inside the faceless corporate hitman in front of him was a conscience.
"But please, you have to understand, we can't go any further!" He pleaded, throwing himself on to his knees in front of Tager "Everything I have found points to one thing, nobody should have what is inside! It could destabilize the galaxy!"
"Everybody's sidin' with the Weeds huh?" The Malachord grumbled as John's fist bounced of his thick rocky hide and he threw the Cactan aside, its limp body bouncing along the ground before coming to rest in the dirt. With the plant creature lying unconscious several feet away he could now afford to turn his full attention to the Commander, his enormous form towering over him.
"They got any funeral customs on whatever rock you're from or am I just gonna have to wing it?" He asked, energy crackling inside his empty maw.
Calla's on turn!