Forgetting

[Syren]

*The freighter set down amongst a sea of ships inside the hangar. Fog was beginning to roll in and everyone was buckling down for the night. Syren had just cleared through planetary control when the brilliant emerald jewel of the planet Talasea began to go rheumy and opaque.

She moved through the ship checking that all was in order before moving to the exit hatch. R9-Y4 rumbled up to her and twittered in his special fashion. The astromech always used colorful language when addressing her. It had been funny to its creator, but the novelty wore thin on Syren since Maeve had died several centuries ago. The droid was useful no doubt about it, and still functioned well, she just could not bring herself to destroy what was left of her mechanic friend shoved away in the programmed innards of this droid.

Syren was having a lot of trouble with the part of her life that let things go as was the way of the Force. Perhaps that was why she was having such a struggle keeping it all together. Maerwen had been the last straw. Her disappearance could not be tolerated. Syren needed to find answers... needed to know if the dead could come back, needed to know that she could still reach out through the Force and find her...

There was an insistent and forceful bang on the hatch. Syren moved quickly to slap the descent pad so the hatch would open. Four humans and a droid stood looking at her. She could not tell if their expressions were fearful or menacing, but they did not seem happy. Then again, she had spent 400 years on Gaeren III and human emotion seemed an entirely foreign concept to her now.

She reached out to the Force attempting to read the currents of emotion swirling around her. It felt so odd and alien, she almost recoiled at the touch.One man stepped forward with a scanner and gestured towards her hand. Syren gave him a puzzled look that must have looked menacing because two of his compatriots stepped backward and pulled out their blasters.

Syren calmly raised her hands and searched around her brain for the thick Basic words she had not needed to use for so long.*

"I come in peace and I will not hurt you. I am clean of plague and I have no idea why you are holding blasters at me, nor what you want to do with that scanner." *Her accent sounded Chiss like, and her skin was blue, but her eyes were green with plenty of white sclera shining through unlike the red on red of the chiss.

The lead man waved a hand towards his men indicating that they should drop their weapons. He crossed his arms when he addressed Syren.* "Everybody comes through here has to be tagged. We want to keep track of comings and goings. Got to keep our city clean in case anybody drops the plague. Sorry gal, but you and your ship have to be quarantined for 3 days."

*Syren shrugged. She had not expected it, but it was not inconvenient either. The chip however, she would have to inspect it first.* "I need to inspect the chip first. My body often tries to reject technology. Violently." *The man looked puzzled for a moment then handed her a chip. It was a rather simple electronic scanning tag. Sub dermal and non-lethal. It looked in order, but she smelled it all the same to determine the type of adhesive holding it together. she gently handed it back to the officer and bared her lower forearm.

For a moment the man just stared at her, then motioned that she should turn it over. She shook her head and moved a step towards him. He stepped back, his men stepped forward, blasters drawn still. Syren stopped.* "You cannot use the back of my hand. I look human but I have different anatomy and a pit tag will damage my joints. You might think placing it on the lower part of the arm is painful, but I will manage." *The man continued to frown, but Syren was resolved in her decision. He stepped forward to take her arm. She had to repress the impulse to extend her fin blade as his thick, sausage like fingers wrapped around her arm. There was a sharp shallow stab into the flesh of her arm and she felt the device slide inside.

*The man wiped away a smear of blood from the back of Syren's wrist before stepping away from her.* "We are leaving a notice on your ship that it is neither to leave, nor you exit it for at least three days from now." *Syren nodded. She closed the hatch and looked down at R9-Y4.*

"She never programmed you for scrabble, did she?"

*The astromech blew a raspberry.* "Not helpful in the least, man."

 

[Evan Kenner]

Unfortunately, Evan had suffered the same fate. Continuing on his lonely voyage searching for his father and mother, he, too, was quarantined to this world. He really hated he idea of being injected with a chip to be tracked with, but he'd rather not make himself more of an outlaw he already felt he was.

Outlaw or outcast. Evan didn't know.

The young chiss man sighed as he stared down at his boots, sitting on a bench on the side of the road near the local spaceport, where [member="Syren"] was similarly searched and informed of her new, unexpected vacation. There weren't many people on the street at the moment. Everyone was either working or wasting themselves at the cantina. Evan was more worried about his starfighter, docked at the same spaceport as the one he sat outside.

While Evan appeared to just sit there staring at the ground, he was reaching out with the Force. Are there any other chiss on this world? He was, of course, looking for his father. He could feel no such aura anywhere around him. He likely was not even here, but he was forced to stay. Something like this was not worth defying the law. He would remain patient.

 

[Syren]

*Syren wandered through the spaceport wondering about rations and drinks when she spied the Chiss man sitting on the bench. A patch of fog settled just above his head making him appear more melancholy than he possibly was. From one blue body to another, Syren gestured to the cantina. A Chiss, [member="Evan Kenner"], was bound to be better company than a mouthy astromech droid.* "You look like you could use some tihaar... if they got it. Supplies are probably running low on just about everything."

 

[Evan Kenner]

A voice made Evan jump a bit on the bench, looking up at the woman. She was blue, but her eyes were not chiss. Huh. I wonder what race that is...

"You're talking to me, huh?" he asked, standing up straight and adjusting the rough clothing he wore. A friendly, yet skeptical smile formed on his face, "Uh...what's tihaar? Alcohol? I prefer Corellian, personally, but to each their own."

[member="Syren"]

 

[Syren]

*Syren nodded to [member="Evan Kenner"] on both counts.* "I too prefer Correllian, but Talasea is almost backwater so you never know what they are going to have. Tihaar is just a name for local hooch. Want to see what they got? I need some news about the galaxy and company is better than sitting alone. To me anyway." *She smiled again, a little too wide for a normal human mouth.*

 

[Evan Kenner]

Evan wasn't sure about the part about the entire world being "backwater" or not, but since he had never been here before - nor even heard of the world, for that matter - he decided to take her word for it. It was, however, a bit suspicious that a good-looking woman like her just randomly approaches some street-bum looking man like Evan and offers to share drinks at the local cantina.

Though, Evan had never had that honor before, so he couldn't say no. He smiled to [member="Syren"], but it faded a bit after seeing her humungous smile in return. Not that Evan was afraid of smiles, it's just that hers was...a bit bigger than he had seen before. It was a little bit freaky.

"Well, i'm glad you feel that way, ma'am. Why don't we go, then? I'll pay. Always a pleasure to meet new people. 'specially a fine lady like yourself" he smiled, gesturing to the cantina a few feet behind him.

 

[Syren]

*Syren wanted, and started to protest about payment, but she fit a hand to her jumpsuit pocket to find only a few coins from her homeworld. These were more than useless to the rest of the galaxy. The Republic typically wanted credits which had some standard in precious elements like gold or silver not bits of stone or metal chips.

*The Calnennore would trade in echinoderm tests -- shells that often formed unique patterns -- or bits of coral, or any other oddment or service that was desired as payment. There was no accumulation or even notion of wealth. Syren heaved a sigh and offered a sheepish smile.* "If you insist."

*She led the way into the moderately crowded and modest bar room.

*However as soon as she entered she smelled trouble -- that is if trouble could have a smell. In reality, Syren could feel the emotions of the denizens roiling around the room. These people were very angry about something and it was about to come to a head. She stopped abruptly, holding a forearm across [member="Evan Kenner"] 's path. Heads would turn towards the new comers at any minute.

Syren's eyes darted around the cantina quickly settling on a tall Devaronian man towering over a Sullustan cowering behind the bar and wringing a bar mop through his tiny hands. The Devaronian seemed to be barking at the Sullustan. Syren could not make out the words, but it was loud and angry, and the mob was with him.*

"We might have caught them at a bad time." *Syren murmured back over her shoulder, but she made no immediate move to leave the cantina.*

 

[Evan Kenner]

The chiss man's eyes darted across the room. His left hand rested close by his slugthrower pistol on his hip, resting in it's holster, loaded and cocked. If hell broke loose, he would use it before his lightsaber so he wouldn't attract any more attention than he needed.

He reached a hand up to [member="Syren"]'s arm, slowly going to lower it. He whispered, "Anything happens, I can handle it." He slowly took a few steps toward the bar, keeping an eye on the Devaronian by the bar. He didn't know if his new friend was following him or not. All he knew was he could probably draw faster than this giant of an alien giving them the evil eye.

 

[Syren]

*Syren felt pressure on her arm as [member="Evan Kenner"] moved it aside and then further into the cantina. She watched his back as he moved towards the bar. She did not follow him closely, because she wanted to keep the exit clear and within sight in case there was a violent explosion of very angry aliens. Syren spied a Corellian laid back in a booth near the door. She flicked her head at the scene near the bar. The Corellian seemed calm and collected.* "What's the deal, fella?"

*The man raised his eyebrows, than gave the most casual shrug of his shoulders that Syren had ever seen from a human.* "Something about quarantine being sithspit and the drinks are overpriced. We haven't been here long enough for this to come to a head yet. Give it a day or two more and there will be a real squabble." *The Corellian pushed the chair propping up his feet, out to Syren then indicated that she should join him. She declined as she continued to watch the Chiss move towards the Devaronian.

The Sullustan had begun to speak in the gibberish they called language after the great horned warrior had bellowed his piece. The Sullustan bartender cowered behind his bar, but it sounded like he was out of a particular spirit. But Devaronian was not backing down. He was resolute that he needed this technology.

 

[Evan Kenner]

Evan approached the bar, turning his head to the cowering sullustan bartender. "Achuta" Evan spoke in huttese, the most common language spoken in the galaxy behind Basic. It was the only other language Evan was fluent in. Why? Anyone who grew up in the galactic underground was bound to learn the language of the galaxy's criminals. "Dolpee kikyuna. Bedwanna dopa yocola"

[member="Syren"] probably had no idea what he was saying, but it was at this point he turned his head around and glanced at her, nodding and then saying to the bartender, "Tihaar?"

In the corner of his eye, Evan still watched the large devaronian man, his left hand remaining close to his slugthrower pistol in case he had to put a slug in the alien scum.

Spoiler

Translations because i'm a showoff and a dork:
"Hello!"
"I'm a friend."
"I'll buy two drinks"

 

[Syren]

*Syren could not even remember the couple of words of Huttese that she had once known lifetimes ago to begin to recognize the language the Chiss was speaking to the frightened Sullustan. The Devaronian was probably speaking it too since his head perked up and his gaze rounded on [member="Evan Kenner"]. The Devaronian slammed his hand down on the bar and bellowed at the Chiss. Sad to say the man was not even a little drunk. This was dead sober on a really bad day. Syren wondered how the day had gotten to be so rotten.*

"Konchee uba Tihaar? Cheeska chinka porko che poka! Nopa karking Tihaar!

*Syren watch the gesticulation mildly amused, but she began to see nods among the crowd who obviously understood the man. The Corellian nodded as well.* "He's got a point, sweetheart. The prices for Tihaar are way too steep, even though we could all make it in our engine compartments." *He took a drink of something after he said it.*

"And what are you drinking?" *Syren asked out of a corner of her mouth so she would not miss any part of the altercation between Evan and the horned nightmare. The Corellian just smiled and put a finger against his nose. Apparently it was something he ought not have.*

Spoiler

What kind of language doesn't have a word for "get" or "obtain"?! Wermo! You are incomplete!

 

[Watcher Three]

It wasn't clear to the occupants of the bar, but the reason for the Devaronian's bad day was very close by. That reason's name was Watcher Three, the Typhoon Commodore. The red and black of his armored uniform was relatively muted in the low light of the corner booth he was sitting in. Far more obvious was his blue hair, or the long ponytail and bangs that had been made of it, or maybe the similarly colored sheathe of the katana propped against the seat next to the man. He wasn't even watching the gap in the horned man's anger management. In fact, he couldn't. The so-called Watcher was completely blind.

So, the Devaronian had underestimated the blind Human Replica Droid. A huge mistake. Especially when said droid could pick out nearly all of the individual conversations in the bar through his hearing. And he could very easily smell the odd scent of the horned man himself. Watcher smiled. This was a nice morning.

[member="Syren"] [member="Evan Kenner"]

 

[Evan Kenner]

Evan furrowed a brow. It wasn't a common occurrence to ask for a drink and be completely ignored by the bartender. The chiss didn't really care if the sullustan was scared or not, Evan was here to buy a couple of drinks and he was going to get them whether the sullustan had any dignity or not. As for the devaronian, well, Evan didn't like to hang out with belligerent drunks.

Oh, fine. Maybe i'll use it after all.

Evan took his lightsaber from his hip and slammed it into the bar under his hand. He didn't ignite it, just simply showed it off to the bartender that he meant business. Evan smiled more politely and repeated himself, using his other hand to set a modest amount of credits next to his hand with the lightsaber under it. "Dolpee kikyuna... Bedwanna dopa yocola...tihaar."

 

[Syren]

*The Sullustan gulped at the attention and squeaked at [member="Evan Kenner"],* "Nopa Tihaar. Mi dawana miki tah nek foo ankwas ooma." *The Sullustan gestured in the general direction of [member="Watcher Three"]. There were several other denizens in that corner of the cantina, all of them either with cowls covering their faces, Syren was uncertain which person the Sullustan indicated. But the Devaronian...*

"Jedai kung!" *Syren nodded. She had finally recognized some of the long forgotten huttese, granted it was a phrase she had heard often in multiple languages. People began to vacate the cantina immediately upon seeing Evan pull the lightsaber hilt off of his belt. The belligerent sober individuals had no interest in getting in the way of a lightsaber. Despite his outburst, the Devaronian did not reach for a weapon, instead he put his hands up and backed away from the bar.

Syren noticed that the loquacious Corellian had silently made an exit with the mass exodus. There were a scant handful of people milling within the cantina now.*

"No need for such theatrics, my friend." *Syren's voice was clear from the back of the room and directed towards Evan.* "Tihaar is better at degreasing engine blocks than drinking, if this guy wants it all he must have a ship in serious disrepair. I may have a bottle of Csillan Ice Wine Reserve somewhere in the bowels of my ship acquiring dust. "

 

[Evan Kenner]

Yup. Never should have done that. Almost every eye in the cantina locked on to Evan when it appeared that he possessed a lightsaber. Others left. One thing it did accomplish was get that nasty devaronian away.

He sighed and tucked the tool of the jedi back into his belt and kept his few credits on the counter, "Keep it. Sorry for that..."

He turned back to his new friend, @Syren. "Anything to get out of this bar now..." He scratched the back of his neck nervously, "Sorry about that. I've never tried Csillan Ice. If...you insist, of course. I am still willing to buy."

 

[Syren]

[member="Evan Kenner"], Syren raised a green eyebrow at the Chiss and opened the door so that he could walk out and have her still watching his back. "A young, strapping Chiss like you? Never tried Csillan Ice Wine? Preposterous... unless you are the unsavory sort the aristocracy thumb their noses at -- much like the rest of the galaxy." *Syren offered another smile, still far too wide for most humanoid's comfort. It was going to take her a while to become accustomed to the half smile she needed to wear in order to become "friendly" with most crowds. Too long homeworld side to remember such things.

*Out the door, she led the way back to her ship, keeping an eye out for followers.*

 

[Evan Kenner]

Evan chuckled as he exited the cantina, "Strapping. That's a new one. Well, i'm certainly no aristocrat. Never held more than about eight hundred credits in my hand at a time in my life before. I like it that way. I don't take the things in my life for granted as easily."

He stopped outside of the cantine and looked up for a moment, noticing some new clouds beginning to form. "Looks like it may rain soon."

[member="Syren"]

 

[Syren]

"You gonna melt, Chissling?" *Syren led [member="Evan Kenner"] towards her ship. Talasea wasn't known to have extensive downpours, merely a constant misting that left everything moist but clean and fresh with only a hint of decay near the forested areas. Trapped in this spaceport for days however, they were bound to be assaulted by a wealth of new smells.

Syren palmed the locking plate on her ship's hull so that the loading bridge would allow them access.* "Either way, this bucket of bolts should keep you fairly dry. It doesn't let the vacuum in, anyway." *She stumbled up the ladder, still unaccustomed to the heavy boots she had to wear in public spaces. They were laughable actually, like clown shoes on a kitten. Syren immediately kicked them off when she reached the main hold. Her feet were not exactly flippers, but the bones fanned out in a wide arc that the skin delicately stretched across. Walking was only slightly less awkward without the boots, but she made it work with a powerful gliding motion to her gait from her hip.

She made her way to an access hatch where things were stored. And there were quite a few things there. She hardly made her way into all of the access hatches anymore, but she had a rough idea about where the wine had once been stored. She rooted around in a cubby until her hand grasped what could have been a bottle. She pulled it out and blew off a thick layer of dust. Taking a look at the year, 589, she frowned a little, and then called up the access way:* "We can give it a try, but it might be vinegar by now."

*While Syren was down in the hold, R9-Y4 trundled by the Chiss man. The little astromech turned on its back wheel and in R9-Y4's profane fashion, greeted Evan with several binary expletives. Syren swung back up the ladder and rapped the droid's domed head with the butt of the bottle.* "You know anyone around here that is good at programming restraining bolts?"

 

[Evan Kenner]

Evan followed [member="Syren"] to her ship. Upon seeing the exterior, Evan seemed to almost faint. He was obviously a fan of the freighter starships, but this one to him looked fantastic. He was even more surprised that this woman he had just met was trusting enough to let him anywhere near her starship. Was it naivity?

The inside was roomy compared to any other freighter Evan had flown in. He waited patiently by the loading ramp as she fetched the old-fashioned bottle of Csillan Wine she had talked about until her astromech droid started to express itself for him. "Heh. Little guy's gone a long time without a memory wipe, haven't ya?

"Restraining bolts? Heck, I can! It's the least I can do for allowing me on your ship for a drink. Just need some tools. Got a hydrospanner or a toolbox around?"

 

[Syren]

"I am expressly forbidden to wipe his memory. It is also convenient to have him retain all the information that he has." *Syren had a small datacard library in the hold, somewhere, that held several of the droid's memories from various wipes. He did need a wipe though, there was just too much information in the galaxy over time for him to function properly. Truth be told she had not had the luxury to download his memories recently, or she had not made it a priority. Instead, she had other matters driving her.*

"His core programming gives him that linguistic flavor. His programmer thought it was funny. Her way of forbidding the change was to structure it into his basic commands, so I, or someone I do not want to pay, would have to search through the basic program code for whatever she hid in there. He has some other interesting quirks in there that I am afraid would disappear if I went that route. I do need to make some space in his brains though."

*She took [member="Evan Kenner"] back to a workstation near the hyperdrive compartment where she had managed to keep all of Maeve's old tools. Many of them still had her initials, MW, etched into them. Syren fished for the hydrospanner among the shining objects. R9-Y4 on the other hand, had not followed them.*

"The real question, is not do I have a hydrospanner, but do I have glasses to try this potentially awful vintage." "She grabbed the tool and headed towards the galley area behind the helm."