3658 BBY (5 BTC)
System Designated: Resh-Krenth 22813; soon to be rechristened 'Raudraksha'
The skies turned a pleasant shade of purple with the deepening dusk. A light snow fell down upon the hardened soil below. The nearby mountain stream was in full force from the recent rains, and the scent from unfamiliar flowers wafted through the air on the cold breeze.
Sergeant Tarsten of Remigold Squad stood alongside his eleven squad mates behind Jedi Masters WenSuul and Oteg. Oteg's Padawan, the somewhat dim Nariel Pridence, stood at her master's side patiently. Ever the prim young lady, her hands tucked behind her back.
Before them stood several of the natives, two women and one man. The leader was one of the women, the shorter and older of the two. Shorter, but she still towered over all three Jedi, who were admittedly small in any crowd. They conversed with ZS-33 acting as the interpreter. Tarsten thought that Oteg was already starting to get the hang of the language.
Both parties' escorts waited nearby, with weapons held in more relaxed poses now that it was clear that there would be no violence. There was just one Republic Squad, consisting of twelve soldiers, and their assigned protocol and Astromec droids. The Natives, who called themselves the Raudra, numbered forty, not counting ten servants. All but two of them were women. Tarsten found these natives, especially the women, held the eye almost as well as Twi'leks did. They were gorgeous, with three dark eyes and skin that looked like a star-studded dusken sky.
Their muscles were slender and compact, and their simple garments revealed a fair amount of their midriff and shoulders. They wore carved jewelry of several kind of metals and precious stones. They had decorative tattoos on their lithe bodies. The three men had no facial hair and were a little taller and muscular than the women.
The warriors all carried a short horn bow with arrows, a trident, a shield, and a pair of heavy short swords. They had leather armor which they had stowed away when the standoff cooled. The servants—who had taken cover behind rocks and trees until their leader had given them the all-clear—didn't seem armed at all, except for items like knives. Flimsy ones too, useless in a fight.
"They really are something aren't they?" Bredan sighed. "Simply gorgeous."
"They have nothing on the Twi'leks," Coop grunted.
"That's your opinion, Dori!" Tarsten laughed. "In my eyes, that margin is slim."
"Three eyes..." Korin chuckled. "And what eyes they are!"
"Wonder what they're talking about?" Bredan wondered. Several of the women were chatting particularly animatedly, eagerness alight in their gestures and lilting laughter.
The other interpreter, B8-DA, replied in its bored librarian voice. "They are talking about a festival that is to start tomorrow at dusk. They think that they can make it to their capital from here before the final day. They're setting up a last-minute act together. That man over there is thinking of getting another set of armor as his is getting too small for him. The quieter women are discussing the ones who died slaying Darth Bellicose. There is to be a ceremony in their honor for their valor." He listened another moment. "It seems that a child got caught up in the skirmish and was orphaned in the violence." Tarsten thought he was imagining it, but was that a tinge of sorrow in the droid's voice?
"Damned Sith," Bredan spat. "Even worse than the Hutts!"
"Hutts would have enslaved them," Tarsten reminded him. "Not sure who's worse of the two."
"Sith enslave too."
"Because they're sadistic, not for profit," Korin chimed in. "Which is worse?"
"To be honest, I hate assholes who grin and say, 'strictly business, nothing personal' before slapping a collar round your neck," Tarsten shivered.
Tarsten turned at the sound of footsteps. Several of the warriors were approaching; both men and several of the women. The one in the lead, one of the males, said something in a strong but friendly voice.
"Have we angered you in some way?" Bait translated.
"Was that all there was to it?" Captain Toramad had joined them. "Sounded like there was more to it."
Bait was the opposite of most protocol and interpreter droids. He did not speak nearly as much, clarifying the nitty gritty the way most such droids tended to. It was a blessing and a curse. He did not get underfoot like them, but he often paraphrased.
"Their words are a little big, is all," Bait grumbled. "Unnecessary padding. But perhaps quite pleasing to the ears. Quite unusual for a primitive civilisation. I suspect we will find poets and singers aplenty in their cities."
"Tell them that we were discussing the Sith," Tarsten told him. "That we know how those bastards just take whatever they want and kill thousands just to make a point. Tell them we heard them discussing their dead, and remembered our own fallen, as well as other people just as bad."
The Droid complied, and faces darkened, some with rage, others with sorrow and pain.
One of the women said something, and Bait said. "May we sit with you? We can drink to our fallen together."
"We accept."
Tarsten knew that at least some of his squad was more interested in drinking with the sexy locals than an impromptu memorial, but it was difficult to pass up an opportunity to turn away free booze.
The man whispered something, and his brother-in-arms walked away to speak with a group of servants. They nodded at whatever was being said, and hastened to the cart they had stowed their supplies in. Soon they returned with several clay casks and cups.
The Raudra sat down in a messy semicircle, and the good folks of Ardent Company copied their example and formed the other half. Servants handed out the cups and began filling them with liquor. It was interesting to see a four-armed species doing this kind of task.
Once all cups were filled, the captain raised his cup and said, "To our fallen loved ones, gone too soon… but not forgotten." The others echoed the words and swallowed. The brew did not burn the throat as badly as some did, but still had an appreciable kick hidden within.
Tarsten lowered the cup from his lips to find the Raudra staring at them, a few looking mildly offended. One of the older women clicked her tongue and said something which broke the spell.
One of the people that Tarsten had assumed was a servant walked into the middle of the ring and began reciting a hymn as all the Raudra closed their eyes and held their cups in all four hands. The hymn got over quickly enough, less than twenty seconds, and then they all opened their eyes and gulped down their drinks.
"She said, 'Our ways are not their ways'," Bait explained without prompting. Tarsten felt a little heat in his cheeks unrelated to the ale. "Apologize for us, will you?"
Bait Complied, and the group just chuckled.
"Do you pray for your dead?" One woman asked, with Bait translating. "Do you sing?"
"Sometimes," the captain replied. "We just have small speeches."
"That feels insufficient somehow," Bait translated one's remark. "How can you show your feelings of love, loss, pain, or joy without music?" as another, with another "It is simply not their way!" as the older woman from before reminded them. "We love music, relishing the note in every breath… but they might have other interests. Do they, perhaps, dance when they can? Paint? Carve statues?"
"All of the above," Tarsten confirmed. "But we're simply not that into art of any kind, except in its proper place. I don't know why."
Every set of three-eyed faces looked incredulous at such an utter lack of artistic expression.
The servants were quick to help clean up once the brief remembrance was over, then began making preparations for supper. With delicious smells filling the air, the warriors pressed Tarsten and the others with questions, now curious about how different the 'lands beyond the skies' were.
The soldiers tried to answer their questions honestly but couldn't help exaggerating every now and then. Bredan and Korin, among others, were quick to make sexual innuendos and references to their virility every chance they could, but it appeared that Bait sanitized the dialogue, going by the lack of either interest or disgust.
"It is regarded a bad idea to flirt with primitive species," Tarsten recalled. "Most primitives have archaic view on copulation. Some see it as holy, finding the thought of casual sex repugnant. Others were quick to descend into orgies at the slightest provocations, orgies which might sometimes had unintended consequences like allergic reactions or diseases. Sometimes even death, if a species responded to poor performances violently."
Eventually, the elder from before had a question which got Tarsten's attention.
"Which of you are the women, and which the men?"
"We're all men," the captain replied. "Except for Wency, Darri, and Shei."
The woman gasped.
"How can you send so many of your men into battle?" she asked. "Do you have many?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Wait a minute," Coop spoke up. "Ask them what their gender ration is."
Bait replied. "Approximately one male in every ten births. Every child is precious, but a male, even more so."
"But… that doesn't make sense! Most primitive cultures would aim to subjugate the weaker sex."
"The society is largely matriarchal it seems. The men retain their independence because Rudra—" the droid looked confused for a second. "Oh, I see. 'Rudra' is their main deity, and legendary ancestor. And they, the 'Raudra' are his descendants. Anyway, Rudra defeated a large snake who tried to enslave them and declared that none of his descendants shall ever have their freedom taken away from them. In accordance with his wishes, no one is constrained by anything save tradition. Even the servants are not slaves." For a second, B7 muttered a few Raudra words under his breath and said, "You know, I'm starting to take a shine to their language!"
Soon afterwards, the Jedi and their leaders finished their deliberations, and returned to their respective groups. All of them seemed rather absorbed in their own thoughts, as though much had been learned on both sides.
Conversation reached a lull among the grunts too. They ate dinner in contemplative silence, after which the Raudra sang and danced hypnotically to entertain their guests, playing handheld percussive instruments.
Everyone went to bed early, with the Raudra insisting that they would take the watch as the Republic soldiers were their guests.
Tarsten and the others had a good night's sleep for once, better than they'd had in quite a while.
