Ghosts of Jovan

She was in a waiting room, the droning music over the speaker an annoying loop of notes that seemed to always start back up at the instant that it ended. Tamera sat patiently though, looking to her right - there was a Rodian that was hunched over, then to her right where an Ithorian was rocking back and forth.

But it was the music that took her attentions so thoroughly. It was relentless in how it constantly repeated, and it didn't stop.

She let out a long breath, and looking up, she couldn't help but groan aloud.

The song only cycled around to start right back up again.

And then she yelled out her frustration.




"Hhhaaaaahhh... !"

It was a strangely muted sound that brought her sharply into the land of the living, and while her vocal expression was more of a breath than anything else, Beck let her body shudder just a small bit.

She was still on the couch in the living area of her quarters, and the holo - still playing - was stuck on a menu screen for some documentary show about Naboo wildlife. It was a lyrical bit of music, but it also had a way of piercing its way into the brain that was quite singular.

The next thing that she was aware of was the body that was cradled against her. A wiry, except soft, body. There was a tuft of fuzz that tickled her ear, and in the next moment she remembered the previous night. It only served to make her smile, and her arms around the body nestled beside her gave a little squeeze.

"Time to wake up," she whispered while nuzzling against her couch partner's ear.

"Your call is very important to us. Please hang up and call back in twentjy mjinutess..."

It was much to early to try and maintain that human sing-song customer service voice and it eroded back into my natural voice faster than a gizka on glitterstim.

I attempted to roll over to find refuge elsewhere where I wouldn't be forced to get up, but there was nowhere to go on this couch except to dig in deeper into Beck's body for warmth and comfort. There was only so much climate control you can do on a floating tin can like this and I could feel the cold creeping in anywhere I wasn't covered up by either Beck's body or the blankets that had become a tangled mess between the two of us.

"Mmm... jyou'rre warrm... and ssoft." I let my fingers wander a little to go find some of that softness. Anything to delay opening up my eyes. You know, in case this had all been a dream and waking up would reveal it all to have turned into bantha poodoo.

I wasn't willing to take that risk.

Tamera gave a grin that no one could see as she felt the fingers travelling over stomach, seeking out the still-warm spots that held on to the heat produced as she'd slept.

"I bet the bed you're used to has lots of pillows and blankets," she murmured, shifting just so, so that those searching fingers found refuge in the small of her back. "... and I bet it's nice and warm and big."

Her own fingers went to give a slight tickle to Ori's undamaged ear.

"But today is gonna be fun, so no staying in beds or on couches all day long. It's ghost-hunting day, after all."

"jI'll gjive jyou the grand tourr of mjy sshjip one of thesse dajyss. jYou mjight fjind jit djissappojintjing."

The ear tickle got me. I could only wiggle it around and lay it flat against my skull in so many angles before she had it pinned against my head. If the Goddess was so ingenious with her design of the Cizerack form than she would have given us the ear mobility to defend itself.

"On this side of the ship is a broken Gamestation 5 next to the mountain of empty Mountain Brew cans. To the other side you will find the fold down cot positioned between two directional gravity iso-cube cells. The walls are decorated with unflattering and sacrilegious depictions of the sun deity Saanjarra, and at the back you will find the shrine to the Blaster Gods. Long may they reign."

My human voice was particularly boring and monotone this time. Like a tour guide walking tourists through a teenagers room. Eesh. That's not a good comparison. Maybe I need to clean the ship up a bit before I let Beck take a look around it. Some habits never die, and my porn collection is properly hidden. Last thing I need is some scumbag bounty seeing all my stuff.

"jI hope jI get to fjisst fjight a ghosst. Sshow them what'ss up."

My words came out a little more excited than I meant to. Gotta keep my cool. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes didn't do a whole lot for perking me up. I was definitely going to need some caf. All this space travel left me space lagged wherever I went. Sleep never felt like enough unless it was on my own time onboard the Nemesis. I keep telling myself I need to adjust my sleep schedule to match Jovan, and like the big idiot I am I keep not doing that. Next time for sure.

Sitting up I stretched my arms and let my whole body cracked, and then twisted my head violently to get a few more pops out. Yeah. That's the stuff.

Reaching over to the caf table, Tamera grasped at her glasses. With Ori having sit up, there was more room to maneuver, and she herself sat up as well. The blanket they'd been sharing was cast aside as she stretched. The audible cracks from Ori's movements were enough to cause her to wince slightly, but in the next moment she had to admit that they sounded... satisfying. After all, she'd done the same things more than a few mornings herself.

Errantly, and not without the smallest bit of a teasing nature, she let her free hand go out to give a light scratch to her couchmate's lower back.

"I would pay good credits to see you do that," she grinned while rising to her feet.

Moving from the living room to the kitchenette, she smacked her palm down on an older style comm player that rested on the countertop. Surrounded by a mess of small flimsi's with numbers scrawled on them.

A low, droning hum sounded out then, that seemed uninterrupted as Tamera set about the tasks involved with preparing breakfast. It would be something simple - hawkbat eggs, some shaak bacon rashers, a prepackages tuber hash medley, and a generous application of sachee'elee crisp.

Over the sound of the static, she smiled at Ori.

"How do you like your eggs?"

My eyes followed her path to the kitchen; watching all that cake walk away.

"jI've fought Mandalorjianss beforre. How much harrderr can jit be to fjight ghosstss and vampjirress orr whateverr?"

Standing up from the sofa I did a little shadow boxing in the air. Straight arms. Calloused knuckles. Felt a little silly without my armor on. It'd been awhile since I fought without it. Without the weight I felt so light. So vulnerable. Abaddon was where I left him, standing lifeless in the corner. He looked bored. Good. I didn't care what he wanted right now. Fuck that guy.

"About fourr weakss old." I said as I crossed the threshold into the kitchenette and found a spot against the countertop to lean. There were flimsis everywhere with numbers written down on them. Might as well have been written in Jawa for as little sense they made to me. Beck must be the type to bring work home with her. Goddess, she's such a hot little nerd. "Ssorrrrjy, bad Cjizerrack joke. Sscrrambled jiss fjine. jI'm not fancjy."

With a smirk, Tamera gave Ori a little wink while reaching into a drawer. Fingers sought out and found a fork, then also took up a spoon. Both were set in an empty and waiting bowl, then she reached back in and grasped at one of the many small stash bags of Cizerack snacks that she had hidden away in most of the cabinets and other drawers. Pulling the little baggie out, she undid the seal. Inside was a collection of small, individually wrapped sajoi tender jerky morsels. Some were flavored with spicy jai'siiachee pepper flakes, some with Kaai'toka garlic paste, some with buttermilk tundra seasoning powder, and others with that delightful as'akoi sauce that came from Calan.

The soft droning of static from the comm player was ever-present. It wasn't loud; more, it was simply a part of the background.

"Something to tide you over while I start the shaak rashers?"

"Oh hell jyess!"

I could barely contain my excitement as I took the package from her and looked inside to see what flavors were available. I didn't even see where she had pulled this from. Did she just have snacks hidden everywhere? Like, I know she likes snacks. It's like the thing we bonded over when we first met. Still, she was turning into some kind of snack magician.

"What'ss wjith the sstatjic? jIss jit musjic?" I asked as I popped the pepper flake sajoi into my mouth. There was no universe in existence where I was not immediately grabbing the spicy option first.

I hadn't wanted to bring up whatever it was Beck was listening to. That felt rude, but my curiosity was screaming for answers. I mean, yeah, she can listen to whatever she wanted. I just wanted to know what it was called so I could put together a Starfly playlist for the next time. I'm definitely not beyond listening to music I don't like to impress a girl.

Another cabinet had been opened, and reaching in she pulled out a heavy cast beskar pan. It was well-seasoned and one of her most prized possessions. It'd been her father's, and before that her grandfather's. She'd always been told it was a family heirloom, but she was pretty sure that it was just that good of a cooking pan. The memories associated with so many breakfasts cooked in it were the sort that just brought up good feelings and happy smiles that usually no one else saw. And even then, she remembered hearing stories from her father about the many happy breakfast times that he'd had. For as many seasoning layers as the pan held, it held just as many memory layers.

Setting it on the stove top, Tamera turned on the burner.

"Oh, it's not really music," she started while grabbing a half-full package of shaak rashers from the cooling unit.

"It's a station on one of those old commband channels. The newer model comm players aren't able to get those old channels, which is why I bought this old one at a mynock market on Nar Shaddaa."

A fork was taken from a drawer, and she set about pulling each rasher out and arranging it in the pan.

"Back during the Clone Wars, there used to be these old stations that the Republic used to send coded messages to their clone regiments that were deep in Separatist space. It'd just be numbers and and a few letters, and no one has ever been able to really decipher them, not even the droid army strategists."

With the rashers laid out and sizzling along, she returned to the cooler unit and brought out a carton of hawkbat eggs.

In that moment, the static cut out to be replaced by a series of tinny-sounding musical notes that played a short melody before abruptly stopping. And then a voice. It was monotone and level, feminine yet in no way alluring.

In a scramble, Tamera set the eggs on the counter while reaching for her stylus and a blank flimsi.

Five, five, besh, two, one, eight, three, orenth, senth, one, one, one, seven.

And then the melody once more, before the sound returned to the constant static. Biting her lip, she looked at what she'd copied down.


5, 5, b, 2, 1, 8, 3, o, s, 1, 1, 1, 7


Much like all of the other number and letters she'd jotted down in the past, the mystery remained. Making a face, Tamera gave a shake of her head as she finally looked back to Ori.

"I still haven't cracked the code," she admitted with a little grin while returning to tend to their breakfast.

"Oh damn. That'ss cool ass sshjit."

I don't know. What else do I say when my thicc booty girl tells me she's been listening to old comm broadcasts in the hopes of discovering a forgotten secret. She just keeps proving me right that she's way cooler and more interesting than I am. She wants to go ghost hunting and decipher old comms, race hotrod speeders and fix shit. The best I can do is just barely survive being shot a hundred times each and every time I step out the door to grab a bounty or merc for Sheegoth.

She's so far out of my league...

"jIt lookss compljicated. What do jyou do wjith the numberrss? And don't jyou even thjink about asskjing me. jI had one of the besst educatjionss crredjitss can bujy jin the Clussterr, and jI stjill barreljy grraduated."

Four eggs were cracked and added to a bowl. Some salt, some pepper, some seasoning from a small container labeled 'Dune Sea Seasoning', and then a small amount of water.

"There's lots of theories," she started with a smile, "... some folks think that they're coordinates to some sort of Separatist treasure. Others think they're leyline markers for some lost Republic fleet that disappeared towards the end of the wars."

Another dip into the cooler unit, and she pulled free a bag of tuber hash. Generic brand, of course.

"Some of the more outlandish theories say that it's some weird Force-related thing, where an old Jedi Master died on Jovan, but was able to channel his Force ghost into a hidden databank to send out the numbers for some old Jedi artifact."

A sheepish look then, as she set the bag next to the bowl of eggs. Moving to where Ori stood, she reached into the back of jerky snacks and brought out one for herself. Buttermilk Tundra. Unwrapping the little thing, she popped it into her mouth.

"That's the one I think has some truth to it."

"Oh, damn."

What else can you say to that. It was pretty fucking rad. I mean, if any of it was real. Sounded like a bit of a fantasy, if I was being honest; but it was kind of like a treasure hunt too and that was exciting.

"That'ss rrealljy cool. Fjindjing trreassurre or old arrtjifactss would be ssweet. Sso jyou jusst have to decjipherr the code and bam, jit leadss jyou to the trreassurre?"

Damn what I wouldn't give for a chunk of treasure. With those credits I could get the old girl tuned up, fueled up, and afford to fill the missile and bomb bays. No body gonna fuck with me then, or they gonna get a missile right down their food hole.

"Wouldn't thjiss comm statjion have to be onboard Jovan ssomewherre?"

"For sure," she nodded while popping another piece of jerky into her mouth.

"It's down in the lower levels though, where no one really goes anymore."

The rashers weren't entirely done cooking, but they were done enough for her to slide them to one side of the pan so she could put in half the bag of tuber hash. It sizzled in the rasher fat, soaking in that delicious kingwood smoked flavor. A little bit of Chandrilan onion and garlic powder, and a healthy dash of dried chili flakes were added to the hash, which she thoroughly mixed in with a wooden spoon.

"I've got some maps of the bottom levels, and I think we should start on maintenance level 021-A. The levels below it don't have oxygen, and only repair droids are sent that low. But 021-A is a good beginning level. Last I heard, it wasn't even inhabited, so we shouldn't have to dodge any low-level corridor gangs."