Log:Jakku: A Chilly Welcome in the Desert

Jakku: A Chilly Welcome in the Desert

Location: Reestkii, Jakku
Participants: Rey, Rheisa Dirleel, NPC'd peeps

In the low morning light, a freighter stirs the settled sands around its landing struts into a voluminous dust cloud. The newborn rays of sun cast blinding glares off Screw Loose's hull as the ship rears up and away from its roost atop the ridge. Its shadow swoops low into the valley below, rippling over mud huts and flapping tents in a lazy arc before the craft reorients for a final descent, and the YT-1300 turns to face the alarmed mob of residents.

Big eyes on gaunt faces watch as the outlanders' ship anchors on their turf, blasting dust high and wide with a final sigh of its thrusters. Visitors to this far-flung encampment are few and far between, so it's with good caution that Reestkii's residents have assembled their most able-bodied selves as a moderately-armed barrier between the powering-down freighter and their homes. The rest of the population is in hiding, neither seen nor heard.

In the distance, a lone groat bleats plaintively. Its near-emaciated legs pick delicately around the bundles of withered produce and other rubbish composting in its enclosure, nosing here and there for an edible mouthful. A swath of red and green trembles in the wind just a short distance away. It's a garden - a surprising little oasis on this desert world. A single figure stands guard over the resilient vegetation, leaning heavily on his staff. The man resembles a living scarecrow, tattered robes snapping noisily in the gusts that Screw Loose throws out. His old eyes are quite sharp, though, narrowing in study through a steely gaze of gray. Bristles twitch on his chin as a secretive smile forms there. He cannot say why, but his heart feels at-ease with this impromptu infringement. This was the shape perched atop the ridgeline last night - of that he is certain. And the lovely voice to haunt the darkness? He suspects they are about to meet its maker.

"Well?" He grunts over shoulder to the munching groat. "Be a good girl and stay here. No need for you to exert yourself, now. Need you to fatten up!" The groat blinks its eyes lazily, bleating a second time in response. A muddy hoof kicks up to scratch her saggy teats.

"Heh, is that so?" The old man shakes his head and runs knobby fingers through his thinning mane of white. "I suppose you're right" and he pushes off, beginning a slow shuffle to join the defensive group at the front of their settlement.

Inside the Screw Loose, nerves are simmering. The view from the cockpit revealed a dozen or so unwelcoming glares from the assembled villagers, a few of whom were armed with rifles and pistols. So it's only after a long discussion and formation of an escape plan that the Captain lowers the ramp and exposes the interior to the arid dwellers beyond.

The first body to emerge from the freighter does so with an irregular gait - a limp. One ochre-colored foot tiptoes timidly after the other and carries Rheisa forth with a large sack of powdered Daro root cradled in arms. When she reaches the end of the ramp, she takes just a couple more steps forward before putting the sack on the ground.

"For you," she states. The brevity of her explanation doesn't inspire any immediate replies from the hardened crowd.

Those still waiting at the top of the ramp uneasily finger their own weapons but remain passive for now at Rheisa's behest and the captain's own diplomatic instincts. These settlers are afraid, not malicious.

Uplifting a palm to gesture at the ship behind, Rheisa invites "Come see? Will unload much more."

"Why?" One heavily wrapped and robed resident advances half a step forward, shrugging the tip of his/her rifle aside. "For all we know, you come here to take what little we have left in stores for yourselves. The stories of piracy span for generations, these parts."

"Yeah," someone else chimes in. Followed by another grunt. And another. Before long, the entire infantry - not even a dozen strong - is engaged in heated disgruntled debate about whether or not to shoot first.

The Togruta remains where she is, for she's found another face in the crowd and underneath his stern expression she sees wisdom.

"It will do us no good..."

Reestkii's strong and proud look to the old man as he rap-taps his way through his trigger-happy neighbors.

"Why not? If this is a trick, they could take all we have. Steal our children for labor, sell our women. It would be better for us to take these 'gifts' /and/ the ship. Sell it."

He steps out from the crowd to stand before Rheisa and a twinkle sparks a hidden knowing within his tired, grey eyes. "Because," he answers with a squint, head canting aside to peer over his shoulder, "this is our ghost in the darkness. I know you heard it, too, last nightSuch a creature cannot be killed, can it?"

Silence. They stare at him as though he's lost his mind.

"...I, for one, would never desire to try" he murmurs, lifting a hand to timidly reach for her ornately patterned montrals, but stops just shy of them. "Besides," the old man gruffly barks in challenge to the ragtag bunch behind him, "Who among you brave few knows how to pilot this craft, much less its proper worth in trade?"

More silence - a heavier, defeated sort.

"Might be, it's worth more in pieces - and we've not the tools. I imagine there're a great many scavengers in the southlands that would be happy to oblige, but who's to say they'd stop at the ship?" A rough gesture to the village behind them punctuates his point.

When there is no immediate response, he smirks and offers the Togruta a nod. "Well then. Let us see what it is you offer before blowing off your heads, eh?"

Though curious about these people that she met in Niima, Rey attempted to push them out of her mind. They spoke of charity, about helping. However, Jakku is not about helping. It's about fending for oneself. She knows this deeply in her bones. It's why she mutters to herself when she steps out of her home, shaking her head as she pulls down her goggles and up the protective wrap around the bottom of her face.

Climbing onto her speeder, she tells herself how stupid it is to chase after outsiders, to see what they might be doing here. However, the days on Jakku are long, hot and repetitious. To see something different? Maybe it is worth something. They told her where they would be going before, so it's not hard to track down the ship carrying the Togruta who gave her the trinket. It's early morning when she approaches. The soft whoosh of her speeder comes to a silent stop. It hangs, expectantly, in midair as she climbs off of it.

Plucking her staff out of the mesh on the side, she slowly approaches the village and the ship, hearing the sounds carried by the empty sand dunes. Eventually, the scavengers the elder speak of come to a very visual point in the small figure nearby as she deftly makes her way down the dunes.

"Tar'dok," she says, knowing her voice will carry. "Who are you to talk of stealing ships, of killing?"

A pair of glowing, red eyes emerges from the shadows of Screw Loose's cargo hold to peer outward as the sound of a girl's voice carries the distance. The Chiss's blue face turns to watch with cautious amusement as their prickly hosts-to-be find themselves facing down a new arrival - one who's apparently come in swinging.

Rheisa remains poised, unmoving save for the fluttering of fabric, eyes never leaving those belonging to the old man. They stare knowingly at one another while her evolved sense of 'hearing' tracks the little scavenger's path down the dunes. She's also detecting the creeping movement of someone hidden within the nearest tent. A soft smile turns to look more squarely upon it while this "Tar'dok" answers for themself.

"Who am I?" Tar'dok replies with a gesture of the rifle. "I am one who would seek to protect his own. We do not know these people. Their claim of 'charity' is suspicious, at best! A lie, at the worst, and we cannot afford to fall victim to."

"Your own." Rey looks to the ship and then back to the people gathered. It's, actually, been awhile since she's spoken this much. Her voice is a little raspy with disuse. Before the encounter on Niima, the most she had said aloud was to haggle for portions. "Look at their ship," she tells him. "If they came here to take what is yours, don't you think it would be gone by now?"

The younger woman stops a safe distance away, planting her staff in the rough sand at her feet. She looks at Tar'dok and then ignores him to look at the elder man. "Pallen, tell them." She has heard him speak wisdom before. "They will listen to you."

"Ah," Pallen finally takes his eyes off the strange gift-bearer to shuffle about-face and regard Rey with a warm smile and twinkle in his eye. "I suppose they have opened their ears a time or two before." Lifting a hand of reassurance to pat in the direction of the ship, he nods before raising his voice from its hoarse depths.

"This girl speaks the truth. As have I. As have they," One bent finger remains pointing at the vessel to his left. Those on his right hand flex 'round his staff. "That is a freighter. Not a fighter, true. But even one cannon, or whatever that proper term is," he mutters, gesturing vaguely at the turret in question, "would be enough to obliterate all that we have here. The way you lot speak, I am truly astounded that those still onboard have not already opened fired!" The craggy lines in his face deepen with a frown.

About half the armed citizens have lowered their weapons already, mumbling among themselves, heads bobbing in agreement. Tar'dok, however, does not yet seem convinced. "Maybe so. But why have they chosen to come here, truly? It is a long way from the mines. We have nothing to offer in trade."

Rheisa, meanwhile, has advanced by three whole inches towards that tent by way of restless toes. She slowly lowers one knee to the ground and sits back on heel. "You have children," she answers softly. Her head tilts this way, then that. "The sound of a laugh, the look of a smile more pure than any water we bring to you...a meal shared between new friends. That is a good trade."

Rey looks to Rheisa, startled for a moment. Moving closer, she shakes her head. "I do not think you mean you wish to take the children in trade," she tells the Togruta. "However..." Jakku has known slavery. It has known quite a few things over the years. Her own form of survival is almost indentured slavery, should she know the term. "It sounds as if your charity comes at the cost of taking their children from them."

There's a wary look. She met the woman once, but that doesn't mean she trusts her. "That is not what you are here for, right?" That's not the read she took from Rheisa, but she has to be sure. It's not the sort of thing she would bet a village on.

From a frown, she tells Pallen, "They are offworlders." Her voice is not exactly compassionate, but understanding. It's curious, even. "I don't think they understand." To give things freely is met with suspicion. Everything on Jakku comes at a cost. Literally. Droids, parts, people, they can be sold for rations, for another day of survival.

The Togruta's headtails shift subtly beneath the draping shawl. She stares at Rey with a little confusion. "No...no, we not here to take life. Only gi--"

"/We/ reside on a moon defined by killers and thieves," a much more eloquently spoken voice interrupts from the ship's ramp, behind them. The Chiss descends with both arms threaded through a couple heavy spools of syntherope. "Your caution is plenty understood, though unnecessary, now. Miss Dirleel, curator of an Art Gallery and keeper of her host family’s children, is as every bit honest as you suspect her /not/ to be. She is like a child herself, in some ways of thinking...unspoiled by the concept of greed. On her home world, selfish traits have a tendency to exit the gene pool, not dominate it. You’d be wise to pardon her this innocent trespass and take what she's worked /very/ hard to deliver all this way. So let's get on with it." Too-white teeth flash with a mildly grouchy smile - the heat's not for everyone - as he tosses the spools heavily down before turning to stalk back up the ramp. "Not everyone in this galaxy is of a mind to rob you. Rheisa, I'm getting the sled."

Feet still frozen with newfound uncertainty in the wake of this misunderstanding, Rheisa flicks a nervous look to Pallen, Rey, Tar’dok, and back to Raim’s backside as he tromps up the ramp. “I...it is the sun,” she points overhead to the mightiest of all oppressors in this land, perhaps in way of apology for her associates’ blunt outburst. “He no like. He from place of ‘snow’,” clutching her arms in hand, she feigns a shiver. “I do not know this ‘snow’, but he say it is verrry cold. Much different from here.” Then, to go a mite further in proving her benign intentions, she sits. Plops her butt right down on the dusty ground and makes no further advancement towards the tiny sound of secret giggles.

Pallen...is laughing. It's a soft sound at first, barely audible against the whispers of the crowd, the scuffing of boots. But it grows, and with it, his pitted grin. "Maybe, somewhere among these supplies, we’ll find a protocol droid." Shaking his head at the rest of the people to call this settlement home, the old man lurches forward and stoops on shaky knees to pick up a spool.

"Many thieves tell their mark they have no cause for alarm," Rey eyes the Chiss as he descends from the ship and joins the conversation. Not all thieves are blunt or aggressive. She learned the hard way that someone attempting to be her friend at times was only done for their own gain. "Your moon is not our world, you don't know how things are done here." Her hand readjusts her grip on the staff she carries, watching him warily as he goes off to get the sled.

When Rheisa simply sits on the ground in front of them, Rey looks over first to Pallen, then to Tar'dok, eyebrow raised. This is not exactly what she was expecting when she followed these offworlders to the village. Finally, her gaze returns to Rheisa. "I've heard of snow," she tells the Togruta, however she certainly doesn't understand it as a concept. Something cold that falls from the sky? It doesn't really compute.

"What are the supplies that you've brought with you?"

"Foods, and more," Rheisa answers less than helpfully at first, seeming distracted by something out of sight, past the dwellings. Another hot gust of desert breath sweeps a portion of her shawl away from her face. It catches the tip of her montral before it can shed entirely, but she makes no move to fix it. Her pupils shrink to pinpoints and nostrils twitch.

"Meat." It almost sounds like an affirmation but the rest of the list is swift to follow as she blinks away the image of hoofstock and offers Tar'dok a little bow of her head. The device on her wrist bleeps steadily as she lifts her hand to reorient the wrapping. "Vehg...vegges," evidently whatever she's trying to say isn't something oft used in her vocabulary, "Frrrruits. Things for water. Things like that, - tarrrps" she points to the nearest tent flap flapping. "And more. Rrraim has datapad with list. Is no matter," she calmly smiles and turns her head to look knowingly at the freighter. "You will soon see."

A couple of the armsmen and women stow their weapons on their backs, moving instead to assist Pallen. The sack of powdered root and syntherope are soon hauled over shoulders towards their end of things, then dumped back into the dirt. A few more folk move over to inspect the sampler, going so far as to poke a hole in a corner of the sack and probe the desiccated-yet-edible contents.

There's a muffled whine and boom from inside the cargo hold, before a portion of the craft's belly lowers straight down, bearing a pair of feet and the low hum of a heavily loaded repulsor sled.

The answer is met with a nod from Rey, her attention moving from Rheisa to the undetermined space behind the settlement. She watches there as the various items they brought are listed off. If the villagers wish to have them, she certainly will not block them from needed food and supplies. This isn't her settlement, after all. She's an outsider, too, though perhaps less of one than those from the ship. Perhaps she was just curious as to what they might find inside.

"What are you looking for?" she asks, instead. This isn't the first time she's watched Rheisa's eyes move away from the gathered people and in another direction. It's part of what has made her wary. "Is there something there?"

The whine and boom from the cargo hold causes the scavenger to start just slightly. The staff is pulled closer to her and she is quick to turn around. She's a jumpy one. Eyes immediately taken off of the horizon and back toward the ship, she let's out a breath that she had inhaled quickly. "Yes, I guess we will." Her gaze never stays in the same place for too long as she looks back to Rheisa, then the settlement, then to the repulser sled.

Less than a minute passes before the cargo lift hits bottom. The sled is indeed quite full. A couple cargo crates mask the contents packed inside, but a few other items are lumped loosely atop - two smaller cases that read 'Sluis-set', a 5 kilo sack, and a couple meter-long, thin packages bundled crudely in paper. Silently squinting at those assembled, the Chiss secures a pair of sun goggles to his face before touching a hand lightly to the rear of the sled and guiding it forward.

"Probably, there are many things 'there'," Rheisa lifts her face to the sun, then turns to scan the ridgeline. "But here, I only smell one worth eating, and it is not mine to take." The groat is safe to graze in its garbage heap another day. The beaded, striped, horned offworlder curls forward and gathers her beneath beneath her. A scuff, audible 'pop' crackling later, and she's standing, in favor of her right leg. In today's garb, there's no hiding the puckering scars of an impalement that while healed, will dwell freshly in memory forever.

Pallen grunts softly and dips a crooked finger into the root for a taste. It's bland, with just a touch of sweet. He nods to himself, smacking his tongue. The remaining defenders lower their blasters, looking expectently toward the blue man and his cargo. Everyone except Tar'dok, that is. The surly 'leader' of the pack keeps his rifle half at the ready and watches the offworlders - and Rey - with a pensive stare.

Rey remains where she is nearby Rheisa as she watches the crates and sled move toward the villagers. This is not her haul. Instead, she listens to Rheisa, though not facing her. "'Things?'" she asks. It's not exactly clear what she means. "Other people, you mean?" It's clear she doesn't know exactly how Rheisa can tell that. "Or things to eat?" There's a confused expression that crosses her face, briefly making her look like the teenager that she is. Hopefully Rheisa doesn't mind other people, which are things to eat.

Glancing over when Rheisa stands, she looks like she may offer a hand, but by then it's too late. The Togruta is already standing. Her eyes glance over the favoring of her leg, the scar, but she doesn't say anything of it. Many people on Jakku are scarred and it seems a personal thing to ask about.

Then, she turns looks back to Pallen and his taste test. Her attention doesn't stay there long, instead drifting toward Tar'dok and the other villagers.

"All things." There's a witty twinkle in Rheisa's eye then, as a slip of the inner girl shows through on Rey's face. "Everything that moves, unless too far away, I feel. I hear. I see." She taps at the base of her montrals with a sickle-sharp fingernail. "In here. No living place is silent, to Togruta. Not really." Which makes bustling life on Nar Shaada a bitch, to be sure. "Every living place has spirit, too, can feel..." She stamps her left foot. "But in this time, I mean..." she points to Pallen, then beyond, where the field and groat are hidden from present sight line. "He smell of it. The wind smell of it. Some animal. There are other people, yes, hiding, but /they/ are not for eating." Her face wrinkles with mock look of disgust, then offers an invitation of "Come," and starts a slow pace for the sled. "You help us, after all. Means you eat, too." And maybe get a snatch of some of the other supplies, says the little wink as she goes.

"I leave the unpacking to you, unless we have your permission to do so," Raim announces, eyeballing Tar'dok as the potential leader here. Both his hands uplift in show of peace before gesturing one down to pat a crate. His other hand brings the datapad to bear and on it, the manifest.

"What are you waiting for?" Pallen finally speaks up again, shooing those nearest him forward. "Go and see. I'm too damn old to carry it all myself."

That's certainly something Rey didn't know. While she's studied languages and the various people that come to Jakku, Togruta has not exactly been one she has excelled in. She turns to study Rheisa and then nods at the explanation. There's a curious look to her as she takes in all the information, filing it away. Rey is nothing if not curious and always wishing to learn. "That sounds useful," she says. Knowing where everyone is at all times? It's certainly a power she wished she had.

"I didn't help much," she says. In her mind, all she did was point them in a direction and then follow. However, the concept of free food is one that she can't help but have a bit of hope for. Dutifully, she follows behind.

After the go ahead from Pallen, she starts to pick up what she can carry to move it back toward the village. While she's not incredibly strong, she is used to hard work. With enough people, they'll make short work of unloading the supplies and distributing them properly.

The master of goods lingers in the background during the offload process, then moves in to eyeball what's removed from the crates to compare to his list. The cargo consists of:

-250 meters syntherope - measured in 5, 50 meter coils -10 dura-tarps -2 tool kits for typical around-the-junk repairs -1 Aquifer Sounder -2, 12 pack of water JugFilters (small canteens with filter indicators on lids) -90 kilos powdered Nerf milk -50 kilos powdered Daro root -25 kilos dehydrated vegetable -10 kilos dehydrated fruit cubes -1 case (500) seed packets -30 medkits -10 cases ration bars (1000) -10 cases dental paste (100)

And...something that Rheisa holds in either hand. Two somethings, really, the long, paper-packaged items. She lays them delicately atop the pile of goods. "Music," she all she says about them. Stepping back to hover nervously nearer Raim, she watches the faces and reactions collectively. Intently.

Tar'dok mills around the offered goods for many a long minute, nudging at sacks with a boot or poking with the barrel of his rifle. He seems to be searching for a flaw, a slight hidden among the items, but eventually comes 'round with a short, approving nod and straps the rifle away, upon his back like the others. "I still do not understand why you bring these things. But we will take them." Pallen can be heard clearing his throat quietly in the background. "...And will permit your stay, over there, if you wish to exchange niceties and join us for the evening."

Rey takes a quick look at the contents list. All things that seem helpful, useful for the village. Also things they will have to hide in order to ensure thieves and those less charitable catch wind of their sudden windfall. A hand moves toward the long paper-packaged items. Music? The woman knows what each of the other things are, but this is what she's drawn to. She'll attempt to peek into them, if she can.

Tar'dok's own mistrust is one she certainly knows well. She would have the same reaction to strangers attempting to give her crates of supplies unasked for. It's something to be wary about. There's a smirk as she listens to Pallen and Tar'dok thank and then invite the offworlders to stay. At least they're offering them some hospitality.

The scavenger is unsure if that extends to her - or even if she would stay if offered. However, she looks up from her place, glancing about to those gathered.

"That is very kind of you," answers the Chiss before looking to his whole reason for being here - Rheisa. Rheisa thrums happily in her chest, accepting the begrudged offer with as much enthusiasm as she'd a genuine one.

"We stay. Not push in to your sleep spaces, use ship. But stay. Have much to learn, I think, from one another. Many stories." She braves away from Raim's side again and advances on the bounty with a little limp. "This, here," she pats one of the smaller sacks of dried fruit cubes. "Make good snacks for little ones." She motions for Pallen to come over while stooping alongside Rey and rustling one of the mystery packages open. "And this...this is something that never empty. Rrrrreeesa," she trills and unveils the slender item in her palms. It is a long flute of sorts, carved from wood and inlayed with strips of bone and polished pebbles for decoration. It's primitive, just a few key holes and a slot for a mouth piece. While her left hand flutters a few notes in amateur demonstration, her right picks up the other package and gives it a shake. It rattles to the tune of innumerable seeds and/or pellets hidden inside. "Is not very good," Rheisa whispers all conspirator like aside to Rey. "But I make from what I have, almost like home."

When Pallen at last joins them, she cranes her head aside to murmur in his ear, mindful not to headbutt the old man. "Yes...yes, very good." He squints a smile at Rey and takes a cautioned glance around to get a hit on Tar'dok's position before starting to rummage and set a few things aside. Seems the scavenger is getting her goody bag secured.

Rey watches as they start to divide everything up. The fruit snacks are interesting. However, for some reason, she reaches out her free hand for the rattle stick. The food, the supplies, they're all something she can rummage through later if she wishes to take some back to her AT-AT, but for now what she's interested in this strange instrument. She hasn't read or seen anything like it. The flute is nice, but certainly not as easily played as a stick that she can rattle. It's something she will attempt to bring back with her if she can. The scavenger doesn't just hand over her best finds, she tends to hoard them.

Seeing that Pallen is putting aside a few things for her, she glances over between him and Rheisa. "I'd like the rattle stick," she says, softly. "If it hasn't been spoken for."

"It has now," Rheisa nods in response and glances up to Pallen before handing the musical toy/instrument over. She puts the flute down atop a case of dental paste. "I make one like this for little Bhija and Joran," as though the names have meaning for anyone else here, "they love very much. Joran is strong enough now to play. In soon times he will I think learn to hit Bhija with." A motherly smile, amused chuckle warms her already happy face. She has only known the children for six months, but already they have wormed into her heart. Surrogate babies for one who is destined to birth none of her own.

For a moment she's lost in that thought, torso rocking gently back and forth from her crouch on the ground. Then, "Rrraim! You bring out special drink tonight!" This gets the attention of a few nearby settlers who then look to the Chiss with /way/ more interest. Booze. Maybe it's made from something other than lichen!

There's an unfiltered smile that Rey gives Rheisa. Keeping a hold on the rattle stick, her hands are mostly full. It doesn't matter that the stick is mostly for children, it's something she's interested in. She certainly doesn't have children of her own - nor has she ever thought about having them, but the smile that Rheisa has is one that she envies. The motherly smile, the face of someone who has people she cares for and about.

Stepping a bit backward, she glances over at Raim when they say that as well. Smiling, she starts to step away from the villagers and their newfound wealth of supplies.

"Thank you," Rheisa calls out without turning about to see where it is Rey's fading away to. Partially because she doesn't need to. "When you play it, may you think of the hands who shaped it so." And she straightens out to face those bodies emerging from the huts at the sound of 'all clear'. Scampering feet halt short a safe distance away from this foreigner as big eyes look up her colorful self, the savagely crafted jewelry of animal claws and teeth. And then there are the hypnotically patterned headtails.

She smiles, mouth closed, and offers a hand, palm up to them. She's open for inspection. "Tonight, after all bellies are full," she says aloud to any who might listen, but makes eye contact with the few kids that have approached, "I have special surprise for you. A story."