"Hey!"
FN-2187 blinks his eyes open at the voice and nearly yelps in surprise when there's another face hovering inches from his own. He manages to restrain his cry (barely), and settles for rolling aside in panic instead.
Right off the edge of his bed.
Ordinarily he's happy with his upper bunk. He's… decidedly less happy with it in this moment.
Nines is already awake below him, and snorts at FN-2187's less-than-graceful emergence. FN-2187's elbows sting from the tumble. He picks himself off of the floor and dutifully ignores Nines' snicker.
"Rough night?" his squadmate asks with a smirk. FN-2187 is still a bit bewildered, and can't think of a good response. He turns to look back up at his bed and startles yet again when he sees the ghost sitting by his pillow. The spectre is swinging his legs, and his half-translucent calf goes right through Nines' head as he sits up. The other stormtrooper doesn't even react.
The ghost sees FN-2187 staring and grins at him, eyes bright. He's got tattoos all over his face—a line up the side of his skull, and a single dot under one of his eyes. There are more decorative designs on his chin.
"Heard you could see us, but I didn't believe it until now," he says gleefully. "I'm gonna be in so much trouble for this, but I don't even care. That was the funniest thing I've seen in a long time."
I'm so glad you're enjoying the afterlife at my expense, is on the tip of FN-2187's tongue, but he snaps his mouth before it can come out. He turns away and very pointedly does not look at the ghost again.
The spectre is not discouraged.
"I guess you can't talk, not without looking like a crazy person," he says, pushing off from his perch and dropping to the ground. His feet don't make any sound on the floor, even though he's wearing heavy combat gear. "That's alright. I can do the talking. The name's Hardcase. Listen, I've got an idea. We need a code. One tap for no, two taps for yes. Sound good?"
FN-2187 ignores him as he begins to put on his armor. The ghost… Hardcase… doesn't seem to mind.
"So kid, I've got a question that I really want the answer to."
Kid. Why do they all keep calling him that? FN-2187 is twenty-two, he isn't a kid.
(At least, he's told he's twenty-two. It's not like it matters, though.)
"The First Order's got some pretty impressive weaponry, real different from the stuff I'm used to. That FWMB-10 repeating blaster—it's kind of like a Z-6 rotary, except your megablaster is mounted. How heavy is it, exactly? I've been trying to lift one for a long time, but my hands go right through. I wanna compare it, see if it really needs to be mounted."
FN-2187 has no idea how heavy the megablaster is. He's not certified to use one, and will likely never be. That isn't his role. He doesn't know what a Z-6 is, though he's assuming it's some sort of machine gun.
Zeroes gets out of his bunk and begins to put on his armor immediately. Slip's up now, too—he'd gotten dressed while FN-2187 was distracted.
"More training today," Zeroes comments neutrally as he pulls on his boots. "We're almost done. We'll be sent on missions soon."
"Yeah," Nines says. "We'll finally be off of this planet."
Carida isn't too bad, in FN-2187's opinion. Though to be fair, he doesn't go outside very often. There's nothing on Carida except stormtrooper training facilities and a few factories.
"We haven't been here that long," Slip points out quietly. "It's only been two years."
He does have a point. They'd all been stationed elsewhere before being transferred to Carida for more extensive training.
"Kylo Ren's a nerfherder."
FN-2187 flinches.
"Knew that would get your attention. Yeah, you heard me right. He's a pathetic slimeball who still sucks his thumb at night," Hardcase jeers. The ghost steps closer, going right through Slip and hovering at FN-2187's side. "You know why he wears a mask? His face looks like it caught on fire and someone tried to put it out with a hammer."
This time, FN-2187 can't help it—he inhales sharply, torn between laughing and gasping in shock. He still doesn't look at Hardcase, but he knows the ghost is grinning.
"He's nothing but a stuck-up nerve-burner who can barely be differentiated from a bantha's rear end—"
"Hardcase!" someone hisses.
"Kriff," Hardcase mutters, pulling back a little and missing the little glance FN-2187 casts at him. "Here comes the fun police."
"Hardcase, what are you doing? You know what the Captain said, and the Commander, too! Are you crazy?"
FN-2187 surreptitiously glances around for the new speaker, but he doesn't see anyone. Hardcase doesn't seem bothered by that, flopping into the nearest bunk (Slip's) and talking to empty air.
"You know he can hear you too, Dogma. Now we're both disobeying orders."
FN-2187 hears an indignant gasp.
"That's not—I don't—blast it, just come out of there, won't you?" Dogma splutters. "I'm trying to save your skin!"
"Aw, what are they gonna do? I'm dead already, they can't touch me," Hardcase says confidently. "Besides, he's ignoring me. I'm not bothering him."
That isn't true in the slightest.
"...think that'll work, Eight-seven?"
FN-2187 forces the ghost's bickering to the back of his mind and looks at Nines, desperately wondering what he'd been asked.
"Uh, sure," he replies. Fortunately Nines seems satisfied with his answer, turning away with a nod. FN-2187 winces. What had he just agreed to?
"...go tell the Captain what you're doing!"
"Honestly. Is snitching the only thing you're good at, Dogma?" Hardcase pushes himself off of Slip's bed and walks towards the wall. "Besides, you can't snitch on me… because then you'll be snitching on yourself, too!"
He reaches towards the wall with a swift motion that makes FN-2187 jump. The ghost's hand goes into the wall instead of colliding with it, and after a brief struggle, his hand emerges… closed around the arm of a second ghost.
Interesting. So they can touch each other, and touch some objects, as Hardcase had demonstrated by lying on the bunk… but there are some objects they can't touch, like the megablaster Hardcase was talking about earlier. They can go through walls, but they can stand on the ground just fine. How, exactly, does it work—?
FN-2187 catches himself and exhales harshly, struggling to clear his head.
The ghost Hardcase pulls out of the wall stumbles into the open with a surprised yelp. He tears his arm out of Hardcase's grasp angrily once he's regained his balance. There's an impressive tattoo across his face.
"Hardcase!" he gasps. "Why'd you do that!?"
Hardcase shrugs unrepentantly, then points. Dogma follows his gaze, and is visibly startled when he sees FN-2187 looking at them.
...oh, sithspit. FN-2187 had forgotten that he's trying not to look at them, but their antics had distracted him from his goal.
"I…" Dogma tries to begin, trailing off. He lifts an arm, blinking when FN-2187's eyes momentarily track the motion, stormtrooper training demanding he keep an eye out for possible weapons. "He really can see us."
"Yup," Hardcase confirms, popping the 'p'. "Weird, huh."
Dogma watches FN-2187 for a moment longer, intrigued, before he shakes his head and rounds on Hardcase.
"You," he snarls accusingly. "You're responsible for making me disobey orders. You can't just—"
"I do what I want," Hardcase tells him. Dogma balls his fists.
"No, you kriffing don't! Now I'm going to get in trouble, and it's all your fault!"
"Excuse me for being curious!" Hardcase shoots back. "It's not a crime, is it?"
Dogma draws himself up. "The Commander specifically told us to wait before interacting with him. Your curiosity shouldn't matter, not when there are orders to follow!"
"Aw, lighten up, princess. It's fine, we're not hurting anything."
"How do you know that? Look at him, he's getting annoyed! At this rate maybe he'll never talk to any of us ever again! He probably wants us to leave!"
FN-2187 taps on the wall two times, very clearly. Hardcase's sign for yes. Yes, he wants them to leave. He wants them to leave him in peace, because these two are almost worse than the two from before. He can barely concentrate on what's actually happen in the real world, much less follow the rapid-fire conversation of the ghosts. His attempt to get rid of them backfires, however—instead of recognizing FN-2187's request, Hardcase's eyes light up.
"Finally responding, eh? So, about that question from before…"
"Hardcase, focus!" Dogma cries in exasperation. He throws up his hands. "I can't believe this. Get it through your thick skull, gunner: We're going. To get. In trouble. Do you want the Captain to chew us out?"
"Ready to go yet, Eight-seven?"
Oh, poodoo.
FN-2187 drags himself out of the ghost's conversation again, looking up at Zeroes. His squadmate lifts an eyebrow at him.
"You've been staring into space for a few minutes. Are you alright?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," FN-2187 declares. A bit too fast. Zeroes stares at him suspiciously a moment longer.
"So, are you ready?" he asks again.
FN-2187 bites back a curse. He hasn't put on his greaves or his boots yet.
"Ah, not quite. Sorry, I got distracted. Just give me a second."
This is exactly why he'd wanted to ignore the ghosts. They're distracting. Any more slip-ups and his squad will start to suspect something's wrong.
He tunes back in to Hardcase and Dogma's argument as he's pulling on his geaves. The conversation has degenerated to mostly Hardcase spitting out insults.
"—insufferable gobermouch utreekov—"
"—this isn't like before, we've got to follow orders—!"
"—kriffing fopdoodle of a karking—"
"Are you serious, Hardcase? What are you, three?"
"—useless pile of bantha fodder—"
"Stop it, you… you… hobgoblin!"
"Hobgoblin, really? That's the best you can do? I'm not impressed. That's not even a—"
Suddenly they both freeze, mouths snapping shut. Their eyes fix on a point behind FN-2187, who can't resist the urge to turn and follow their gazes.
There's a third ghost standing near the barrack doors, arms crossed. He doesn't look happy. He glowers at Hardcase and Dogma, who snap to attention. Dogma goes pale. Well, FN-2187 assumes he goes pale based on his expression. His slight translucence makes it hard to tell. Hardcase blanches.
"Commander, sir—"
The newcomer doesn't even speak. He just gives Hardcase a look, and Hardcase falls silent with an audible gulp.
"Sir, it was Hardcase's fault—" Dogma attempts weakly.
"I don't want excuses," the new ghost growls. Dogma winces. "We'll discuss this incident later. Out. Now."
The ghosts obey, heading for the nearest wall.
"You're not even in charge of us," Hardcase mutters mutinously as he goes, but it's half-hearted. They disappear a moment later, and FN-2187 takes a closer look at the new ghost. He doesn't have any visible tattoos, but there's a terrible scar bisecting one of his eyes. When FN-2187 squints at it, he can see that the eye doesn't have a pupil—it's cybernetic, or possibly just a stand-in to fill the hole.
(Ghosts can have cybernetics?)
He's expecting the new ghost to speak, and he isn't disappointed. However, it's brief and quiet, a welcome change.
"Try and get somewhere where we can speak without being overheard," the spectral man orders gruffly. "We'd like to talk to you. We'll be watching."
Instead of leaving through one of the walls as the others had, this ghost simply fades out of sight. He leaves FN-2187 alone with his thoughts and his three other squadmates, who look annoyed to still be waiting. FN-2187 hurriedly shoves on his other boot and signals that he's ready to go.
We'll be watching. Well, that's not ominous at all.
FN-2187 doesn't want this. He doesn't want to be haunted by chatterbox ghosts. He's got other things to worry about, blast it! This one interaction alone has caused his squadmates to watch him in suspicion. It doesn't take much more than that for a stormtrooper to be taken away. He's seen it happen, he knows how it works. This is extremely dangerous, and he can't afford to keep acknowledging the ghost's existences.
But at the same time... FN-2187 is curious.
He's never spoken to someone who wasn't another stormtrooper or an imperial officer. Even though FN-2187 hadn't said anything, it had been sort of refreshing to hear speech patterns from non-imperials. (Or perhaps past-imperials? FN-2187 still has no idea.)
Maybe… maybe he can find some way to get some alone time, just to see what will happen. Then he can tell the ghosts to leave him alone once and for all. Yeah, that'll work. That's reason enough to obey the ghost-commander's orders.
"Hurry up, Eight-seven! Force, we've been waiting for you all morning! Planning on making us miss breakfast or something?"
Blast. "I'm coming!" he tells them, and tries to put the whole morning experience out of his mind.
He's not very successful.
A/N:
Mando'a:
utreekov- idiot (lit.- emptyhead)
Other:
gobermouch- This is an old Irish term for someone who likes to meddle in other people's business.
fopdoodle- A stupid or insignificant fellow; a fool; a simpleton.
This fic is extremely fun for me, and currently more easy to work on than my other massive project, that's the only reason I'm updating again so soon.
Headcanon: Dogma can't insult someone to save his life. Hardcase, on the other hand, does his research, and pulls out all the stops for the stupidest reasons.