She sat in the sand with three Jawas, a slate between them, the moons above casting silver over the dunes. Her fingers were covered in dust and chalk — a primitive, almost absurd interface for someone who once interfaced with psionic crystal.
But it worked.
The Jawas had drawn stick figures, arrows, symbols. She'd responded with cleaner lines, symbols from the Protoss lexicon, simplified. Over the past days, a sort of hybrid pictogram language had formed — clumsy, but functional.
One symbol meant "Trade".
Another, "Build."
A third, a circle with tiny legs, meant "Enemy."
They were learning each other. Slowly.
But that only deepened the questions.
So many different forms. So many different rules. The universe she had known followed structure — three races, three ideologies, three logics.
Here?
She turned to a second slate she had begun keeping privately — her catalogue.
Catalogue – Local Intelligent Lifeforms
(Compiled by DRN-5571 – Data incomplete)
---
Species: Jawas
Description: Small, robed scavengers; high energy; communicate in high-pitched language
Threat Level: Low
Intelligence: High
Category: Merchant / Subtech
---
Species: Raiders (Tusken)
Description: Aggressive, tribal desert-dwellers; armed with primitive but deadly weapons
Threat Level: Medium
Intelligence: Medium
Category: Hostile / Tribal
---
Species: Moisture Farmers
Description: Humanoid bipeds; cybernetic variations; non-aggressive; environmental resource gatherers
Threat Level: Unknown
Intelligence: High
Category: Neutral / Unknown
---
Her notes were inadequate. Everything was too soft. Too blurred. Too organic.
She missed clarity. Protocol. A warp-in cycle. A build order.
---
At midday, the first farmer came close.
Not too close — just within sight, standing atop a rock with what looked like a long scanner pole. He didn't raise a weapon. He simply watched.
She stood. Raised a hand. Waited.
He nodded — once — then dropped something into the sand before walking away.
Cautiously, she approached.
A small container. Sealed. Inside: water packets, a multi-tool, and a compressed nutrient bar.
A gift.
Or a test.
She picked it up. Examined it.
Then turned to the slate.
She added a new symbol: "Offer." And beneath it, she drew a long line — branching outward.
Not every exchange required firepower.
But not every creature here followed rules.
The thought lingered, cold and quiet, even under the heat of both suns.
She would need to evolve more than just her technology.
She would need to understand culture.