Her

[Untaaura Verratoa]

Shollent
- Within the Gordian Reach -



Personal Log of Untaaura Verratoa, Major of the 119th Jaani'sarr Battalion.

14th day of the sixth moon, 1141th Year of the Founding.

We're two days into our mission. The Alliance Joint Operations Task Force has struck camp next to the city the natives call Xanna, though city is probably too generous a word to use. Canestalk huts and a few buildings made from mud bricks. It would barely rate as a township on Fey'dann, but this is what rates for civilization on the small continent. These people only started trading with offworlders five years ago. Guess it was only a matter of time before someone brought something here like the Liannan Plague.

I can understand why we're here. It's a goodwill mission. Helping sick people makes everyone look good. The Admiralty wins. Bothawui wins. The joint command gets to continue working out any kinks before any larger stakes event kicks off, whenever they do. Maybe most important of all - it's rare to get called to do something that is unapologetically good for it's own sake. Taking care of sick people who didn't ask for any of this. I'm not a doctor, and unless you count knowing how to apply pressure on a shrapnel wound, I couldn't tell you much about first aid, medicine, anything like that. But I'm looking forward to doing something that leaves a lasting good.

I just hope the Sholla know why we're here_


Untaaura dragged the remnants of her cigarette down to the filter, thumbed the save key on her datapad, and flicked the butt into the dirt before stamping it out with a grinding boot. Before her, Camp Mercy was bustling. Two rows of prefabricated patient dormitories had been set up, as well as a field hospital, surgeon, mess, supply depot, and crew barracks. The camp even had a comms tower and landing bays, coordinating arriving and departing shuttlecraft from the half dozen ships in orbit.

Speaking of...

"Hejy, hejy!!" Untaaura barked, affixing her cap on her head as she stepped out from the shade of her tent, picking up her pace in brisk strides. On the eastern landing pad, one of the new arrivals was dawdling like they were on a sightseeing tour.

"jYou! Clearr the pad! We've got jincomjing arround the clock, jyou'rre not herre to be a tourrjisst!"

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Mili stared blankly through a pair of mirrored dark, seemingly black lenses. Her head seemed to scan the area in slow turns, almost sweeping motions that took tens of seconds. The sun bounced off her jaw length raven hair and glasses. She had stopped to listen. The conversations, the movement of feet. The sound of a cigarette crinkle-crackling to a finish, and then ground into the dirt. Conversations of medicine and logistics. Surgical items rattled: plast handles against clean metal trays. Bugs burrowed and hummed.

A fabric rubbed against hair, purposeful boot steps moved toward the landing pad. Someone small in physical stature but large in presence and authority.

"jYou! Clearr the pad! We've got jincomjing arround the clock, jyou'rre not herre to be a tourrjisst!"

Her head came around in a smooth motion and regarded the Major. She smiled with the knowledge that she would hear a transport the moment it went subsonic in atmosphere. Her body loosend into smooth, graceful motions as she moved off the pad. The large pack on her back seemed to not trouble her, but appeared to just be. Her clothing was not reflective of her lithe body. It was grey shades of outdoors clothing, though the pants were form fit and the jacket open to a moisture wicking dark red tank. While k'Vik was on the tall side bellcurve for human females, it wasn't significantly so.

"Major, my apologies." She said politely in an antiquated Coruscanti accent. "Mili k'Vik, translation specialist." She offered a hand.

[Untaaura Verratoa]

She sounded like she had an education. Not that it bothered Untaaura - she'd have been concerned if the woman didn't. At least the woman had good enough sense to dress for the field instead of the classroom. And with a body like that, it didn't appear that she spent all her time in a classroom either.

"Ah. Ourr jinterrprreterr."

Already assimilated to the custom, Untaaura pressed hands with Mili. The human greeting was warming on the Major, and she realized how easily it allowed you to size someone up. Firm grip, and the skin of her hands not as soft as she'd expected for an academic. The shared grasp also allowed them a scant moment where they each had to look the other in the eyes. Mili's eyes were blue - Cizeri blue. Something about that starkness was unexpected and not unwelcome. The Major pumped her hand once, and released. No sense in dwelling on it. She gestured with the blade of her hand.

"Thjiss wajy. Leave jyourr rruck wjith the porrterr. jI need jyou."

The Major took utilitarian strides, making up for her short stature with a brisk pace. She didn't look back for Mili to follow. She expected it. If she dawdled, she'd run into the learning curve. This wasn't a combat zone, but Untaaura didn't reserve a lot of patience for civilians. The natives were occupying most of it, and it was scraping thin.

"Ourr battaljion alrreadjy hass a Cjybot Galactjica prrotocol unjit asssjigned, but the thjing jiss grrjindjing jitss gearrss on whateverr jit jiss the Ssholla sspeak. jI've rrun out of patjience. Alljiance Command rreferred jyou, and jI put jin the call."

[Milivikal k'Vik]

k'Vik shook loose of the bulky pack into the porter's hands and follwed the Marine's point. She rolled her shoulders and matched the Major's purposeful pace.

Untaaura had spent time around humans. There had been little hesitation at the handshake. k'Vik hadn't studied the physical social rituals of the fellinoids or had much interaction with them, despite their increased presence in Alliance geopolitics. Intelligence communities were slow to trust, and the Kei A'i Reei did not have a tight integration with the Alliance's established structure, which also limited opportunity. Learning two social graces would be an interesting challenge.

"Ya ve, Jaanni'saari Verratoa, /I will be your interpreter/. Su'saa /if my Cizeri is subpar/. I hope to fill that gap." She added, switching back to basic. In her field experience with soldiers, they didn't care much for credentials, only that the job was done well.

"May I speak to the droid? The briefing lacked in linguistic detail. I prefer not to start from scratch."

[Untaaura Verratoa]

As the human spoke, Untaaura's good left ear unconsciously eased forward, carrying the auditory load for the brusquely-bobbed right ear, which heard very little anymore. Mili's Cizeri was surprisingly clean, her r's rolled in the dominant Carshoulis accent. If anyone was going to learn the mother tongue in a classroom, Untaaura expected they'd speak properly Carshoulis, and not one of the subtle peculiarities of the sister worlds. She wondered if the interpreter would have a better or worse crack at Syragori creole, or the more tonally-inflective Cizeri spoken on Taltimant. But that was pedantry. Mili's icebreaker was a short and tidy resume, and Untaaura accepted it for what it was.

The request for the droid wasn't expected, and the Major's mangled right eyebrow arched slightly. She'd expected Mili to go right to the source and start talking with the local chieftain. Instead, the human was more careful and thorough. That was good.

"Cerrtajinljy. Talk to jit. Download frrom jit. Take jit aparrt forr sscrrap when jyou'rre done. jIf jit gjives jyou what jyou need, jit'ss jyourrss."

Untaaura diverted Mili from where she'd anticipated she'd want the interpreter to the camp's droid bay. Beyond the prefabricated structures and tents, the landscape of Shollent stretched into a flat, featureless steppe, with robust grasses rising nearly two meters to obfuscate lines of sight. The marines had put themselves to work early, felling the wild grass to a perimeter that extended forty meters beyond the camp's periphery. Alliance engineers installed an inner perimeter of motion beacons at thirty meters. Nobody expected trouble, but just because you didn't intend to build a palisade didn't mean that you invited trouble for tea.

"Wherre djid jyou learrn Cizeri?" Untaaura made small talk carefully as she began the ritual of retrieving another cigarette. She didn't have to fake her curiosity, the number of forrda who spoke that cleanly, she could count on one paw.

[Milivikal k'Vik]

"Take jit aparrt forr sscrrap..." k'Vik cracked a soft smile. The droids were more than serviceable in most situations, but with new and unique languages that were not part of the known patterns, the droids were known to flounder.

Mili hummed to herself while the Major guided her to the droid bay. Beyond the constant background rustle of the grasses, the camp's sounds were informative. Things would be restless until there was better communication between the Xanna and the field hospital's diverse staff. The droid tech, of course, was in the most heat, though it was no fault of their own. There was anxious chatter from medical staff, aware of the action needed and unable to perform. The military contingent was restless, too. All the brass involved wanted this to be a banner success, and that pressure pushed down to the lowliest private.

"Mmmm." For a filler sound, it was nearly musical. "I started with a translation dictionary and watched contextual samples that covered about eighty percent of the language. It was the most that could be done on a brief timeline. The rolling 'rrrr' is quite fun. Most of the idioms seem to be derived from the context of the Cizeri as the apex predator. Which makes sense from what I read in the diplomati..." Mili paused when she heard Untaaura stop manipulation of her cigarette.

"...Major? Su'saa, I must be rambling."

[Untaaura Verratoa]

Definitely an academic.

Mili spoke in the quick cadence of someone so interested in the topic that they were afraid to waste a pause. Some of it was beyond Untaaura's reach, but the gist was clear - and surprising.

"jYou learrned Cizeri jin what...a few dajyss?"

The Major drifted to a stop. Some people were just wired differently. She'd heard of stuff like eidetic memory, and the term genius was thrown around to the point of being watery and milquetoast, but to basically vacuum up an entire language coming in cold? Well, gifted seemed weaker still.

[Milivikal k'Vik]

"Oh, no, no. Only enough to be conversational. I do not know any of the regional or sub-regional dialects, but, well, I did learn a few dirty jokes." She admitted with a touch of mischief. Untaaura seemed to recompose herself. Mili entered the droid bay, and a 3PO unit regarded her.

"Hello. I do not believe we have been introduced. I am T-3PO, cyborg relations." The droid greeted her.

"Hello T3. Mili k'Vik, field linguist and interpreter. My hope is that you can help me get started."

"I am afraid that if you want to speak to the Sholla there has been some difficulty. Technican Besrel said that there were no logic faults..."

3PO units were given to rambling. She folded her arms. Mili cut the droid off. "Droid brain aside, let us cover what you do know, and do not know. Grammar, syntax, vocabulary."

[Untaaura Verratoa]

Inside the droid bay, Mili quickly got to work. A few of the other Alliance techs turned to look, but Untaaura didn't bother to disrupt the momentum with something as small as introductions right now.

The droid's plating was a matte-finished tan and blue, ostensibly to follow the warm earth tones favored by the Alliance army. The voice module was less of a deviation - male pattern and coreward.

'I believe the Sholla speak a distant derivation of the ancient Pauan family of languages, perhaps hinting at either an interstellar origination, or at least interstellar contact that pre-dates any mention in Republic or Imperial surveys.'

Untaaura glanced from the droid to Mili, giving a small shrug. This likely meant something to the linguist. The droid continued.

'Personal declensions are similar, but I'm afraid there are a great deal more than any Pauan example can provide reference.'

"jYess, but what doess that actualljy mean?" Untaaura cut in now, clearly asking the human being.

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Pauan had complicated declensions regarding specific subjects, and could be taken to extremes. It was beyond "those rocks behind the house", it was "those rocks behind the house of my mother in the back left corner of the yard that were moved in honor of her father's passing."

"Pauan is unusually specific with subject designations." Mili stated before the droid had a chance to answer. She relayed the example. "The subjects can be, mmm, subjective. Much of the start of the conversation is coming to agreement about a subject's specific nature."

"T3, thank you." Mili added before the droid could speak up. She turned to Untaaura and frowned. If the Sholla were as specific and descriptive as the Pauans, establishing a baseline vocabulary could be extremely time consuming, because the subject was not always declared at the start or the end of the statement. Without a translator, Pauan derived languages were mind bendingly difficult to learn.

"Do you have another cigarette?" k'Vik asked the fellinoid. Mili realized a moment later that she had not given the Major a chance to get a word in edgewise, either. It was one thing to blow off a droid.

[Untaaura Verratoa]

Withdrawing from the droid and back towards the exit of the depot, Untaaura was quick to supply Mili with her requested cigarette, shaking the pack once to catch a filter halfway out of the opening.

"Carreful, thesse thjingss wjill kjill jyou." she deadpanned the worn-out saying, which eventually turned to a little smirk. The Major didn't peg Mili for a smoker. That was something you got into when making a bad decision on the heels of a few other bad decisions.

That was weird. Why did she care? Why shouldn't a prodigy student need a vice?

Untaaura lit Mili's cigarette without thinking, only pausing for sudden introspection when she'd stuffed her pack back in her breast pocket.

Wait.

Why'd she do that? Anyone else who bummed a smoke, she just passed the pack and assumed they had their own light. Now she was lighting someone else's cigarette for them?

This was a distraction, and the Major was getting annoyed at herself. She shook her head, drawing crisply from her own cigarette, and exhaling just as sharply.

"Ssorrrjy, sso the prroblem jiss that thejy'rre sspecjifjic? The context?" She frowned, realizing that while she'd tried to summarize what Mili said, but ended up sounding precisely like the lay woman she was.

"Can jyou talk to them?"

Untaaura had pivoted to face Mili squarely. It was a yes or no question, and it might not be fair, but she was a marine. She needed the black and white bits first. The greyscale could get filled in later.

[Milivikal k'Vik]

k'Vik took a long, slow drag from the cigarette. She breathed out from her nose. The smoke curled around her nostrils.

"I shall not make a habit of it. I... it has been a long time." The last time was when she had a smoke with Kazaar, when everything had gone to hell on Sullust. (https://theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?19643-Toxicity-and-a-Little-Girl&p=318602&viewfull=1#post318602.)

Mili answered the second question first.

"I can. This is... ocean diving." She charged into the metaphor, not knowing if the Cizeri Marines received water training. It occurred to her that they might not have much in the way of oceans. Mili pushed on, the previous thought unheeded.

"It might be only ninety meters." Only was clearly sarcastic. "The guide failed to mention that there would be a storm, a cross current, and visibility would be mayhaps an arm." She took another drag from the cigarette, quick and shallow. The smoke puffed into a ring as it left her lips.

"Right, rambling again. I appreciate the cigarette. On the topic and mind of linguistics and, well, words, Su'saa, I tend to go on like a teenager on jeeta." Another drag. She pulled a hand down her face, and took a deep breath.

"You are correct. Overly specific, which makes building a mutual lexicon ponderous. That is if the blasted droid is correct."

[Milivikal k'Vik]

bump

[Untaaura Verratoa]

"Ssoljid copjy. No plan everr ssurrvjivess enemjy contact. Whateverr jyou need to get thjiss done, let me know and jyou'll have jit. The ssoonerr we'rre all on the ssame page wjith the natjivess, the betterr we can help them."

A passing marine made Untaaura cognizant of the smile still on her face, and she made effort to stow it.

"jI'll have the porrterr sset jyou up wjith the offjicerrss. Enljisstedss arre bjivouacked on the ssouth rrjidge untjil we get betterr ssjituated. Chow'ss at 18:00 sstandarrd. Don't be late. jI can't orrderr jyou arround, but jI'd rratherr mjy people worrk smarrt insstead of harrd jif jit meanss keepjing burrnout low. We'rre a long wajy out jin a whole lot of nothjing."

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Mili nodded. Her face went from a look of ease to something more formal moments after Untaaura's. She was uncertain of anything she might need beyond what was in her pack: datapads and cards with linguistic reference documents, some high quality recording devices (Alliance provided), and sundries.

"I need a lay of the land before anything else. It would be trouble if I went for wander?"

"No. Jusst don't cause a djiplomatjic jincjident."

"I shan't go far." k'Vik dropped her cigarette and pressed it into the soil with the toe of her boot. Mili picked a random direction. She didn't have to go far to get to the perimeter of the camp. She turned back. She listened. The wind whispering through the grasses. Nothing was nearby except small wildlife. She stopped short of the final ten meter perimeter's motion sensors. No need to be interrupted by an understandably grumpy marine. The remnants of the grasses crunched stiffly against her boots while she rocked on her heels and then the balls of her feet and back again. Her focus drifted back to the camp. There were conversations in Cizeri and Basic. Marines marched, and everyone else was doing something.

k'Vik realized that she needed to learn the basics of the Liannan Plague. And she needed to get out of the sun. Mili located the field hospital's temporary structure. She put her glasses into a jacket pocket before flagging down a member of the staff. The Besalisk got straight to the point, between wipes of her brow.

"What do you need?"

"Ah, I'm the interpreter and lingust the Alliance sent, but I don't know anything about the Plague."

[Untaaura Verratoa]

"Well," the Besalisk doctor humored the woman as he shuffled through some new inventory using his four arms, "its highly virulent, transmitted through air and fluids, causes serious respiratory pneumonia in half of the exposures, and death in 20% of those."

To alleviate any concern that she may have for herself, the doctor continued.

"Its an old enemy, as far as plagues go. The Republic started innoculating against it as part of its omnibus booster series about two hundred years ago. If you're from a habitable system or have traveled to one, you're almost certainly vaccinated against it. You wouldn't have gotten passenger clearance here if you didn't."