That evening, Skira was the last to join the gathering at the captain's table. Ordo, Shada, and Raana were already there, most of their weapons left behind, except for blaster pistols at their hips. Ryn and Mrrsk had been left behind to guard the ships, as a slight nod to the feelings of the GA officers and their guests. Trandoshan eating habits were often unpleasant for more mammalian and aquatic based species, and the less chance for some do gooder to find out Ryn's status the better.
Skira himself drew several appraising looks from those already there. Raana's was one of amused speculation. Nub's and Du'Shan looked somewhat disapproving, especially at the DC-17 blaster on his hip. The second and third officers, a younger human male with a beard and an older human female were both attempting to talk to Raana, paused to give him a look of mild respect. Mando'ade had a reputation, after all, and most military types split between disdain for vagabond warriors and respect for some of the deadliest killers in the galaxy. The rest of the assembled group were clearly academics by their nice, if serviceable clothing, slightly stooped postures, and studious appraisal.
"Adenn!" Ordo called, his voice boisterous over the light chatter that was filling the room. "Come, I want you to meet the client."
Skira nodded and adjusted how his helm was cradled in his left arm, before making his way through the thin crowd. The client was an Arkanian male with copper skin, white blond hair, and an air of aristocratic arrogance that set his back teeth on edge. He was used to killing such men, not working for them. Still, credits were credits, and he needed them.
"Professor Mel'dan," Ordo said with an easy smile, "may I introduce Adenn Skira. Adenn, Professor Mel'dan."
"Sir," Skira said roughly, sticking out his hand. For a moment, the Arkanian looked at the offending limb with white, pupil-less eyes, before shaking it with all the enthusiasm of a man handling Bantha dung.
"A pleasure," Mel'dan said, his voice indicating anything but, before he turned back to Ordo. "Five Mando."
"You wanted the best security," Ordo said, flashing white teeth. "We offer it. Adenn was a lucky find, headed to the Core, but he agreed to join in."
"We are eternally grateful," came a mechanically tinged voice from behind them. Skira twisted around, only decorum keeping his hand from his blaster, to find himself facing a man wearing water filled helmet. Behind the glass, a handsome middle aged man with rather large nose and pointed ears, blessed with a tan complexion and dark hair, grinned in the water. "You have no idea how important this expedition is, and how many people would like to get their hands on it."
"Ah, Professor Kiro," Ordo said with a much friendlier smile, "I didn't know you were going to join us."
"Fortunately I was able to pull some strings with the university," the man said, still grinning. "Even if they are still concerned about us having enough potable water for both the crew and my needs."
"Your needs?" Skira asked.
"I'm a Chuhkyvi," Kiro said. "I take it you've never met my species?"
Skira shook his head.
"I'm not surprised, we don't get out much," Kiro said with a smile. "Being aquatic has its blessings on our homeworld of Iskalon, but up in the air with you breathers it gets a bit difficult. Given Swedlan's lack of atmosphere or oceans, we're having to take extra measures for everyone. Putting in an aquarium for me was initially seen as too much of an expense, but it pays to have friends in high places."
"Indeed," Skira said dryly.
"Gentlebeings," a protocol droid chimed before the Chuhkyvi could elaborate further, "please be seated. Dinner is about to begin."
Everyone took their seats, starting with Captain Nub, First Officer Du'shan, and the second officer at the head of the table. The fourth officer, the older woman, took a seat at the end of the table. Skira couldn't help but notice that the move prevented the captain from having to discuss things with anyone other than his staff without going out of his way. Probably a defensive move, to limit the need for the protocol droid's translation.
The academics took the side of the table by the first officer, with Mel'dan and Kiro taking the spots closest to the officer. The other two of their party were a female Duro, recognizable by her large bulbous head, oversized eyes, and greenish-grey skin, and a Deveronian male with red skin and a pair of horns growing from his skull, introduced as Melari Dow and Keelin Mano respectively.
Ordo sat down next to the second officer, his wife beside him, and Raana beside her, leaving Skira at the end with the older human woman to his left.
Skira didn't mind his low seat, however. Mandalorians didn't much care about military rank, given they generally worked alone and in small groups. Even their formal military was mostly made of up volunteer forces, what other races would consider a Militia. There was only one who could command their people, the Mand'alor. Anyone else trying to boss people around other than that usually got ignored or fragged. That being said, every military needed a chain of command, so on jobs or missions a loose idea of who was in charge did get formed. Since Ordo had gotten the job for his clan, he was the one calling the shots. Had it been Skira's job, he'd be in charge.
Still, it was something non-Mando had trouble grasping at times, and Skira knew that his taking the lowest place on the table would likely make the crew of the Dauntless and their client think he was the 'lowest-rank' among them. If it led them to underestimate him, so much the better. Plus, it likely meant he wouldn't be forced to make more small talk than he had to.
"I wish to formally welcome you to the Dauntless," Captain Nub said through his protocol droid. "It is not often that my ship plays host to to such notable guests, so I hope you forgive any failings in our hospitality."
Given the shortness of Nub's comment, and the length of the droid's translation, either liberties had been taken, or the captain had set up pre-set messages for the evening.
A pair of ensigns appeared, wheeling in hover carts loaded with food, their uniforms crisp, professional, and to Skira, utterly pointless. Dressing up like nobility when you were there to fight always struck him as counter productive, though he knew on several worlds noble rank and military service were connected. He held his tongue as the first round of food was served.
Bowls of nerf stew were placed in front of them, and he observed everyone's reactions. His fellow Mando'ad showed little, the stew was simple, but hearty, but it lacked any strong flavors. The officers seemed accustomed to it. Meld'an looked slightly insulted, while the Deveronian and Duro picked at it nervously. Kiro merely smiled politely inside his helmet at the ensign who awkwardly placed the bowl in front of him.
"Perhaps he would like it poured into his fishbowl," Raana said in Mando'a under her breath. "This soup is as weak as water, no doubt he could breath it."
"Is the food not to your taste?" the droid asked for the captain, looking at the Togruta.
"Forgive my companion," Ordo said, smiling politely. "The food is fine. It's just we Mandalorians are used to spicier stuff, and we've spent the last two days eating my wife's tiingilar. I'm afraid it has burned out Raana's manners as well as her taste buds."
"Burned out her eyes too," Shada said with pride, blushing at her husband's praise of her cooking. There were two types of food Mandalorians liked. Spicy and sweet. When it came to spicy, the quest was always to obtain a state of hetikles that left one's sinuses burned open from just the aroma. Raana's lekku twitched in embarrassment, but she nodded. The Togruta, along with Ryn, had been reduced to tears and abject sobbing respectively by the spicy stew.
Simple though the stew was, Skira still tucked in with hungry professionalism. One never knew when your next meal would come in battle, and you ate what you could get your hands on. Leave the academics and aruetii to pout over it.
The next course consisted of flash-fried zuchii, a green vegetable with white flesh on the inside. Again, it was rather plain, but not unpleasantly so. Meld'an still looked slightly insulted by the meal, though his companions looked much happier. Still, the lack of conversation two courses in was growing tense. Normally the captain would have directed the conversation, but Nub seem either unwilling, or incapable. Perhaps what he had said about a lack of guests was true.
"So," Skira said, breaking the near silence. "What exactly are you digging up?"
For a moment, everyone seemed stunned. Perhaps 'low rank' individuals were not supposed to start the conversation. Even the ship's doctor looked surprised.
"A temple," Professor Kiro said through his helmet's speaker. "At least we believe it is a temple. It dates back nearly a hundred thousand years from the samples we've received, which, given the remote location of Sweldan, is remarkable."
"How come?" Raana asked. "Galactic civilization has certainly been going on long before that."
"Because this one belongs to the Infinite Empire," Kiro said, clearly excited.
"Never heard of them," Ordo said. "Must not have been very infinite or much of an empire."
"There's where your wrong, my good man," Kiro said. "The Infinite Empire was the first galaxy spanning empire and the reason our galaxy has been settled at all. They developed the very first hyperdrives, which ran on the Force itself. They colonized worlds, terraformed them, and mastered genetic manipulations that to this day we still can't equal."
"Even with the Dauntless's Class-1 drive, it took us six weeks to travel the Rimma trade route to get here, from there, it has taken another week to take the Triton trade route to Pembric II, and it will take us around twenty days to reach Sweldon, and that is on one of the fastest ships of the line." Kiro continued. "A hundred thousand years ago, it would have taken twenty times that at least, perhaps longer if they were having to map out the hyperspace routes themselves. Yet they came here, for some reason we can only theorize. Four years, give or take, trapped on a starship, just to settle on a world where there is virtually no atmosphere and to then go on and build a temple that has remained untouched since then? Truly a culture worthy of study. Not to mention we have so few finds from the time period, any small scrap can tell us what life was like on the frontiers of space back then."
Meld'an didn't seem to share his companion's excitement. Skira tried to recall what he could of the Arkanians. He'd never worked for them personally, but he'd met other Mando'ad who had. Arrogant, was the going term. Apparently they did a lot of genetic engineering on themselves and thus believed they were the ultimate life form in the galaxy.
The Vong had thought that too.
"We're hoping to stay out here for the next year, maybe even two," Kiro said happily. "I'm sure there's going to be all sorts of things we can discover."
His companions didn't seem to share his enthusiasm, Skira noted. Two years in the literal ass end of the galaxy was probably not where promising young students or highly respected professors hoped to spend their time. Still, the apprentice went where the master did, that was the same in every profession.
"The Dauntless is set to operate in the area for the next year," the Droid said on behalf of First officer Du'shan. "After that, we will either be replaced, or sent a resupply ship. Unfortunately, the local infrastructure cannot support an operation our size along with their local fleets."
"The Kathol Republic's the only major power in this area, correct?" Ordo asked. He would know the answer, of course, but appearing ignorant was a good strategy.
"Yes," Second Officer Hedro replied. "They have a small fleet of half a dozen Marauder-class corvettes, each with a squadron of Z-95's and generally a pair of Frey-class assault shuttles for troop movements. It's enough to keep the pirates largely out of their Republic, but just barely."
"Hardly seems worth it," Dow said softly, drawing the gaze of the rest of the table. The Duros shrank slightly, her red eyes nervous. "I mean, even if you get rid of the pirates, what's to keep them from coming back once you leave? Going around, killing people just trying to make ends meet in a desperate, lonely part of the galaxy. It's just seems like a waste."
For a moment there was silenced.
"And what of the people who die at the hands of the pirates?" Du'shan asked via the droid. "Your sympathy for people trying to make it in hard times does you credit, but they make those ends meet by victimizing innocent people who are just trying to do the same."
The awkward silence returned as a noodle salad was served.
"I must admit, I thought all Mandalorians were human," Dr. Kerd said, a slight accent to her voice from a planet Skira couldn't place. "Is it common for non-human's to become Mandolorians?"
"As common as it is for anyone," Raana said, her lekku twitching. "Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la."
"I'm sorry, I don't know what that means," the Doctor said.
"No one cares who your father was," Skira said, remembering the words his buir had spoken to him. "Only the father you will be."
"My family was killed by a serial killer name Basko Nash," Raana said. "The bounty hunters who took him down were Mando. I had no family, no where to go, so they adopted me, gave me a new family."
"I see," the Doctor said. "Were the rest of you born Mandalorians?"
"Shada and I were," Ordo said. "Not that it matters. Where you come from isn't important to our people. Only who you are. If you have spirit, loyalty, and honor, we're willing to give most anyone a shot."
"And you, Mister Skira?" The Doctor asked.
"Adopted," Skira said, turning his attention to his salad. Despite the inquisitive looks of the Doctor and the academics, he refused to elaborate. Not out of shame, he was proud of his Buir. She had been a strong warrior and raised him well. It was the other time he wished to ignore, at least in front of aruetiise.
Raana gave him an appraising look though, and he knew that at least one of his kin was curious about his past. Ordo had said the job would last around eighty days, but it was sounding like it could go a bit longer than that. That was a lot of time to not talk about something.
The main course arrived, Nerf steaks with some sort of purple root vegetable, served pink in the middle. Meld'an looked offended, though he kept his mouth shut. They were going to be with the Captain for over two weeks, and he suspected dinner was going to be a nightly thing for at least some of them. He was going to have to see about making his excuses. Pull guard duty on their ships during the dinner shift. Let Mrssk deal with prying questions and snooty scholars.
"Tell me, Captain," Ordo said, "has the Dauntless seen much action?"
"It has seen some," the droid answered for Nub. "I was the second officer for her during the Vong War. We spent much of our time on the fringes, patrolling, to try and keep them contained. Took our share of losses, but we gave well in return."
"Since then we've mostly been tasked with dealing with pirates in the Outer Rim," Du'Shan said through the droid. "This is the farthest out we've been asked to go, however. Our primary base is Tantra, hence why our part of the fleet was asked to come here."
"I suppose the Vong War created a lot of orphans," the Doctor said absently.
Skira froze, schooling his features into a beskar mask.
"Yes," he said, quietly. "It did."
"I suppose for a culture that values adopting war orphans, that must have been quite a boon." The doctor said.
The change in Skira was too subtle for the non-Mando'ad at the table, but his kin noticed. They shifted, ready to fight, should he strike.
"Adenn," Shada said softly in Mando'a, "Perhaps you would be willing to take Mrssk some of this wonderful food? I know it isn't fair for you to miss dessert, but I'm worried about my brother."
Seeing the exit vector, and knowing why, Skira nodded stiffly and stood.
"Forgive me, Captain," he said in Basic, "I must be excused. May I take some of our dinner down to my companion who is guarding our ships?"
The Sullustian looked at him for a moment, then nodded and made a motion with his hand.
"Of course," the droid said, before turning to the ensines. "Please pack some of the food to go."
"After the war we've mostly been tasked with dealing with pirates in the Outer Rim," Du'Shan said through the droid, changing the subject. "This is the farthest out we've been asked to go, however. Our primary base is Tantra, hence why our part of the fleet was asked to come here."
Skira slipped his helmet on to free his hands and accepted the tray offered by the now nervous looking ensign. Without a word, he left the room behind.
But not the memories.