Difference between revisions of "1873/Limping Home"

Revision as of 08:43, 25 March 2015

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
It's a sorry ship that comes limping back to the Empirical.

Having been blasted, shot at, exploded upon, and otherwise battered all to hell, the Rogue Shadow is a mess of crumpled hull plating, and one of the ion sublight drives is flickering and threatening to cut out. The hyperdrive had just baerly gotten them back to the Scarl System where the Empirical is stationed.

In fact, much to the alarm of the Rogue Shadow's pilot, it had cut out entirely and dumped them back in realspace early, forcing them to limp part of the way back. This might be easy but for one of the sublight drives cutting in and out of service the entire way, and trailing acrid black smoke.

In short, it's a sorry-looking ship, and it looks like it definitely got the worse of whatever happened to it.

Its communications systems must have taken a hit, too, for what communication comes from it is garbled. Juno Eclipse's clipped, professional tones are so riddled with static that it's difficult to hear what she has to say. Fortunately, PROXY had been put forth to guide the ship into the hangar, since the damaged sublight engine makes it difficult for her to guide the ship true, and the compromised sensor equipment makes it even harder to see.

Eventually, Juno manages to dock within the hangar specially-built for the transport, but it's a bumpy ride, and what is perhaps the roughest landing of her career, skidding to a halt against durasteel deck plating; forward momentum arrested by magnetic docking clamps that snap down to prevent the ship from torpedoing into a wall.

Needless to say, the resulting lurch on the people inside the ship is... not pleasant, and even though she's expecting it, it slams Juno into the console again, with a curse on her part.

The Empirical, however, is not exactly a II-Class Star Destroyer. It's far bigger than that. A personal flagship of Darth Vader, it's a modified cruiser designed to house his scientific experiments, staffed with laboratory personnel, researchers, scientists, and the usual complement of guards and stormtroopers. It also has mechanics for tuning up the Rogue Shadow as necessary, although its pilot handles most of the work.

Right now, it's any port in a storm.

It's with trembling hands that Juno disengages the engines. They power down with a cough of interrupted electricity. It's with equally trembling hands that Juno pushes herself up from the pilot's seat, raking black-gloved fingers through her disheveled hair; she looks shaken, far more shaken than she usually allows herself to look, and she's a bit unsteady as she stalks to the aft of the ship to go check on her passenger.

"Lute!" She calls out through the corridor, already rounding the corner towards the ship's small but functional medbay. Some of the panelling in the corridor's been knocked loose; electricity snaps and sparks, and she gives the dangerous arc a wide berth. Smoke drifts in the corridor from the damaged engine. "We're here. Do you think you can you walk? I can help you to the Empirical's medbay; it's not far from the Rogue Shadow's hangar."

The door to the medbay slides open, and she braces herself against the doorway; checking, mostly, to make sure her passenger is still alive.

Lute (188) has posed:
The rough trip doesn't do much good for Lute. As the ship comes out of hyperdrive, he is pushed around a bit in his bed. It's even worse as he lands. He uses his one good arm to grab ahold of the bed, and keep from falling over. But, the rough ride hasn't been good for his wounds. Despite him trying to patch himself up a bit while in there, it's really hard to apply bandages with just one arm. The entire medbay is a bit of a bloody mess. But, thankfully, Lute is obviously alive.

He tries to push himself up by one hand. He's struggling to even get off the bed, though. His legs are scraped up, his clothing torn. As he tries to stand, he looks incredibly pained. This is one of the worse beatings he's had for a long time. What's more, he doesn't have the supernatural endurance those of his former world, the world of Pokemon-6, have. He's mostly just a normal human right now, even if he is the legendary resillient Logan Trieste.

As he looks up at Juno, he grimmaces with pain. And yet, even as he deals with the pain, even as he deals with the bleeding, only one thing comes out of his mouth.

"...God, you're beautiful."

He tries to stand up, only to start stumbling forward due to the injuries. Likely to fall to the floor, unless caught. His eyes are unfocused. He can barely see anything clearly. The attempt at standing up probably wasn't his best idea.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
One hand rises up to rub at the smear of blood, which is still in fact bleeding; Juno hadn't taken as much in the way of wounds as Lute, but she was still knocked around the cockpit pretty brutally, and the cockpit has a lot of sharp edges and corners to be knocked into. Most likely that point of impact is going to leave a healthy bruise later on.

Realising it's probably pointless to smear the blood around, Juno drops her hands slightly to rub at her face in a world-weary sort of way; the adrenaline is finally starting to filter out of her system, and all she feels right now is cold and tired. Her cap is lost somewhere in the cockpit, her hair is disheveled, her rank badge is hanging very slightly askew, and so is her regulation jacket. Also, she's bleeding. She hardly looks the consummate professional like this.

She pauses to peer through her fingers, blue eyes the colour of a summer sky, just in time to see Lute stumble forward; she's on her feet and moving to catch him before she can think the wisdom of that through.

But that's okay. She isn't as gentle with him as she could be. In fact, she lets him wrench a little when she catches him, very possibly purely out of spite.

"I know your reputation. Shut it; I'm not interested," she snaps, though there's not a lot of heat to the words. He's lucky. She's too busy being in mourning for the ship's condition to get properly angry at him. "Take it slow. It looks like you took quite a beating. Don't rush, or you're going to make your wounds even worse, and the doctors here are hardly miracle-workers."

"And after that," she grates through her teeth, "I'm doubling the Felucia contract."

Lute (188) has posed:
Lute guesses the catch was a bit poor due to spite. He feels a pain as his body is caught, and he coughs a bit of blood up again. He tries to right himself again. He is obviously in an intense amount of pain. Though Juno was hurt in her ship, Lute was hit by the blasts directly. Still, though, he is finally managing to stand up somewhat, albeit a bit hunched over.

"...Yeaaah, sorry. Uh. Is there a reason why there are two of you, though? ...Do I have a chance with one of you?" He's obviously even less lucid than usual. He winces his eyes, and then blinks rapidly. Trying to get the blood out of them. His vision rights a bit. And, he breathes heavily.

"...Yeah. They hit me dead on multiple times, and one of them... punched me with the force of a truck. ...I'm worried about my Pokemon, too, but. They should be stable in their Pokeballs, for now."

T He coughs again, and looks at the door. He slowly starts making his way forward. He's limping, but he's making progress. And at least not falling again.

"...I guess it's fair you wanna double the price, though. But this was an unusual situation. It's... not really often that people go out of their way to hunt me down. I doubt anyone is going to follow us to Felucia, either, though."

His hand grab at his side. He's trying to put pressure on the wounds a bit, to stop the bleeding. His right arm continues to hang limp. He looks at it, sighing.

"...At the least I know most of the Fed medical stuff will help get this fixed again soon. ...I don't know how Imperial medicine measures up. No offense, I'm sure it's fine, but..." He trails off.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
The pilot sighs hard enough through her teeth that the breath whistles slightly, a sound of exasperation and annoyance, but she's not so heartless as to continue taking out her spite on him. He's obviously in a tremendous amount of pain, and in fact looks like he ought to be lucky to be alive.

Instead, she'll guide him gently but firmly towards the entry ramp, which is mostly extended, although the last slat or two are damaged, one corner of them sparking where the machinery's been wrenched out of alignment. She guides him carefully over that slight drop, prepared to catch him again if she has to.

"Sounds like you took a blow to the head. I can say with full alacrity that there's definitely only one of me. And no," she adds flatly, to forestall his questions, "I haven't got any sisters. I'm an only child."

She makes a thoughtful sound regarding the Pokemon. "I can't say I know too much about those, but if they have any sort of sensible physiology, it's possible the medics here might be able to take a look at the most critical of them. Space is limited, of course. We're light years away from any other Imperial installments; the Empirical was something of a last resort. Any port in a storm. I'm confident the sublight would have failed before we had ever reached the Citadel, and with the comm and sensor arrays down, we would have been dumped out into realspace with no way to call for help."

Juno squints, too, grimacing a little. Things are a little blurry; she must've taken a harder knock to the head than she'd thought, but at least there isn't two of everything.

"I have no worry that anyone's going to follow us to Felucia. If anyone's stupid enough to do that, the planet can bloody well eat them for all I care." She glances down in some evident concern as he tries to staunch his own wounds. "Come on. A little faster, if you can."

She looks up, raising her voice. "PROXY! If you're skulking about the hangar bay, here, I'd appreciate it if you could look after the ship and start clearing some of that hull plating away. I'll take a closer look at it later. And tell Starkiller I'm back if he doesn't already know." Actually, she's not sure if he's actually here, but his master might appreciate knowing she's not dead and the Rogue Shadow didn't crash upon docking.

"We've got bacta, if nothing else. I'm to understand it's fairly advanced in the technological scale of many worlds. Watch that step," she adds, as they transition into a corridor. "It's not far, now. The Empirical is primarily a research ship, so the medical facilities are actually quite extensive; the only real trouble is that we're light years away from any other Imperial outpost, and supplies can be in short order. This place is meant for research more than active medical care."

Her grip is firm, even though she's trying not to be rough with him. "But, I'm not certain what sort of level of technology you're used to. I'm afraid I've never been to whatever world it is you're from."

Lute (188) has posed:
As Juno asks, Lute tries to pick up the pace. He stumbles a bit at any hard spot, especially on the ramp. He's forced to slow down as he walks across it. The confirmation that he is seeing double doesn't help his mood. He is glad it seems to be passing, though.

"...Don't worry about my Pokemon. My world has high tech healing methods for them. Better methods than for humans. While you guys could manage, they're in a sort of stasis right now. They'll stay safe until I get them to a Pokemon Center to heal them."

He's glad that she's guiding him, because he keeps stumbling here and there. He keeps feeling like he's going to pass out. The only thing he can think to do is just keep talking more, even if it's just idle conversation. He feels a bit silly, talking as he is bleeding out. But. Anything to keep him lucid. Or at least, close to it.

"...I have no idea what bacta is. The only high tech healing stuff I'm used to is the Confederacy's. And most of that is the terrible shit Xiang does. ...I'll be honest, I've gotten used to healing magic. ...Sanary and Miko have both been taking good care of me recently, in that regard. ...So has Sarracenia. She made me fried healing mushrooms once..." He's talking without really thinking at this point. Rambling more than anything.

"...A shame we're.... in the middle of nowhere. Damnit. Please tell me we're almost there. I... I can't see much right now." Blood is leaking from his forehead over his eyes, blinding him a bit.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"I'd wondered about that. It must be some kind of spatial technology that stores them in some kind of... something like..." Low-energy states come to mind, but her head hurts too much to think of the correct term. Something like hyperspace, maybe, only without the traversal or the motion.

Juno squints even as she stiffens her arms, plowing Lute forward down the corridor. "I think I'd better have the medics check me over, too," she mutters. "I must have struck my head harder than I thought when we took the broadside." She's a little dizzy, but it's better than bleeding out; conversely, it means when he stumbles too badly, so does she.

"Bacta. It's a kind of... it's a chemical synthesis. It's like a gelatin. Bacterial particles submerged in a viscous fluid. It's mostly colourless with a sort of reddish tint." She explains only because it's the thing that's keeping him going, idle conversation, and her limited first aid training tells her the worst thing he can do is lose focus right now.

She gestures with her free hand, briefly, but it returns to continue pushing Lute down the corridor. "It promotes regeneration of tissue when it's exposed to a wound; rapid regeneration, and it works across a wide variety of species, to boot." She turns a corner, steering him along, and the harsh lights of the medical facility greet them.

Lute is summarily plowed into the hands of waiting medics, who fuss over him even as she wavers on her feet, teetering a bit and leaning against the doorframe.

"I've been in the Citadel's facilities once or twice, but my only real exposure to it was Lieutenant Medusa. Which was... her work was skillful," Juno admits, diplomatically, "but still traumatic. I've never needed an eye regenerated before. You almost can't discern the difference, but..." She allows herself a shudder, even as the medical technicians get to slapping bacta on Lute's wounds, easing him down onto a cot.

She wavers a bit, even as one of them steers her over to a second cot, and she sits down without much argument as they carefully check her over for signs of concussion. "I'll stay here with you for a little while," she affords, sighing. "I can't do anything until I'm cleared for duty, anyway." She pauses, glancing at the tech fussing over her. "Am I still bleeding?"

"Yes, Special Captain Eclipse. Please hold still."

Juno makes an unhappy sort of sound. She'd rather be back in the hangar, working on the ship. It's going to take a tremendous amount of repairs to get it back in functional order. "Me, I don't trust magic. No offense," she asides, to Lute. "If I can see it and I can touch it, and I can explain it with scientific law and theory, it's good enough for me—" She pauses, just enough to tilt her head and follow the flashlight the medic shines in her eyes, though her gaze flicks sideways toward Lute.

"Hey. Are you still alive over there? I'm going to have to collect from Harp if you go and croak on me," she adds, frowning.

She glances back to the medic. "Can you see to it that PROXY starts on the ship? I'd like to return to it as soon as you've cleared me for duty. And can you pass on a message to Inquisitor Starkiller? I suppose I ought to inform him what's happened to his ship," she sighs. "Don't worry. I'll be certain to file a formal report with Lord Vader later," she adds, forestalling the medic's question. "This is hardly worth troubling him just yet."

Lute (188) has posed:
Lute is a bit surprised as the medics grab him. He doesn't fight, though. He quite literally couldn't if he wanted to. But, as he is grabbed and assumedly laid down, he's slowly beginning to realize what is going on. He keeps talking, though the only thing his eyes can focus on right now is the unfamiliar ceiling above him, and the vague silloute of medics around. As he speaks, he's treating it almost as if the medics aren't even there.

He coughs a little, then mutters, "...Bacta sounds... convenient. We've got some medicine that works well at healing Pokemon, but not humans. Potions, things like that, they're called. ...We should see about getting some bacta brought to the Pokemon World. Humans don't fight all that often there. They use Pokemon instead. But it can be helpful for, well." He pauses, feeling the bacta applied to him. It's a weird feeling that he isn't sure he quite likes. "...For instances like this, I guess."

The comment on Medusa gets to him. Even in his half-concious state, he gets a brief look of rage, before he speaks again, "...I miss Medusa. She never got to do medical stuff on me. And... she was nice. And... possibly a bit insane. So I relate..." A sigh, "...I still wonder where Crona went. Haven't seen her since..."

He pauses. Trying to focus on other things. He just wants to collapse into a fitfull angry sleep right now, but. He really shouldn't. He knows that if your injured, rest is needed, but he should at least make sure he has basic care done first.

"...I don't like all magic. I'm okay with some. But, well. I'll trust it, especially if it is someone dear to me... ...god, what am I even saying..." He sighs a bit. He imagines Juno doesn't care about this stuff, at all. So he tries to move on.

"...Vader terrifies me a bit. It must be tough working for him. I don't mean offense. I hear he is a great man. But... He is not someone I'd want to work for." He thinks back. He has heard various incarnations of Darth Vader before. They were... unhinged, at times. He sighs a bit.

"...How did you end up a pilot, anyways? You really do not seem to like it. Or at least, you don't take any joy from the danger."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"It's extremely convenient. I've seen it seal up wounds that should've killed the men who bore them." Juno turns her head as the medic apparently deems her fit for service, or at least close enough; he leaves her to join the team already fussing over Lute.

She stays where she is, comfortably seated, because she's feeling just a bit too unsteady to stand. Nothing terrible – but even after so many piloting missions, it's still hard to power through the adrenaline crash once the fighting's over.

Having lost her cap in the cockpit somewhere, she reaches up to try and put her hair into some semblance of order, but it looks like a hopeless task; with an exasperated sigh, she simply unclips the whole mess and shakes it loose. It's much longer than it looks. The twist she normally favours makes it seem as though it were cut short, when in fact it's easily down past her shoulders.

Juno shucks off her gloves and sets them over her thigh, setting to smoothing down her hair and combing out the worst of the tangling with her fingers as she watches Lute from the corner of her eye.

"I could say the same about your Pokemon. It sounds as though the technology you use with them is incredible; actually, I'd like to learn more about it, when you aren't busy bleeding out. Certainly not a level of personal technology the Empire's on towards, although it sounds as though our ship technology is far ahead of yours." That is to say, they have ship technology. Sublight ion drives, hyperdrives, regular space routes. "It's useful for accidents, too. It doesn't always have combat uses; I know it's seen its fair share of use in construction and fabrication."

Abandoning her effort at containing her hair, she settles for gathering it up in a messy twist over one shoulder. She shrugs out of her uniform jacket, tossing it aside, rotating one arm to show a thin scar that runs from the inside of her wrist nearly up to her shoulder. "I've had a few accidents of my own. The only reason I haven't lost the use of this, that, or the other thing is because of bacta. TIE crashes and engineering accidents both. I was a TIE fighter pilot before I was assigned to the Rogue Shadow, and I flew over a hundred combat missions. Most of them were messy."

Withdrawing her arm to lean her elbows over her knees, she sighs, letting her hair hang where it falls from its loose twist, rubbing at her face.

"Nice? I'm not sure that's a word I might use in relation to her," Juno sighs, cocking an eye at the Pokemon trainer. "She was certainly skilled, though, and I wouldn't be piloting right now if not for her intervention. You can't see it, and I suppose you really can't see it in the shape you're in now, but one of my eyes is very slightly differently coloured from the other. It's more grey than blue. Beyond that, though, you wouldn't know I'd lost it, and I've never noticed any visual impairment at all."

Slumping a bit, she rubs the stiffness out of her neck, though her head is tilted to keep watch over him. "You're saying anything that keeps you lucid, and I'm fine with that. You were talking about magic," she reminds him. "I don't trust it myself."

Piloting? Juno shifts, and the slight motion seems almost uncomfortable.

"I was going to be an engineer, actually. A civilian engineer. Let's just say my home life was less than... pleasing. My mother died when I was young. She was caught in the crossfile between rebel insurgents and the Imperial troopers who were attempting to put them down. She was gone before my father and I reached the hospital."

She shakes her head, faintly. "My father... changed... after that. Nothing could please him. Nothing I ever did was good enough for him... I enrolled in the Imperial Academy on Corulag. That's the world I originally come from," she adds, glancing briefly up to Lute. Her hands settle on the side of the cot, fingers tightening slightly; vaguely uncomfortable, but apparently not enough so to stop talking. "I was actually interested in engineering, but my proficiency tests showed that I had advanced piloting skills – all of the relevant mathematics and sciences, quick reflexes, and spatial thinking."

"It's hard for me to become disoriented. I know which way's up and which way's down, and unless I'm the one bleeding out, it's difficult for me to be knocked out of spatial orientation. Even in the vacuum I know which way I'm headed, most of the time." She taps one finger to her temple. "It's like a compass, almost; except it works when you have more to worry about than 'north' or 'south.' I can't really explain it any better than that."

"Anyway... I was placed as a pilot, and given training appropriate to a TIE fighter pilot. I wasn't sure that's where I wanted to be, at first; even through the training and endless simulations. I was good with them, but it wasn't until I first sat down in a real cockpit that I realised that was exactly where I was meant to be." She smiles, almost fondly.

"I'd never felt so free as when those engines came to life under me for the first time; when I felt the cockpit shudder, and the carrier fall away. I still remember that first cockpit. Oh, they're all the same; TIE fighters are uniform and every craft is interchangable. But somehow, I remember that one. I'd know it if I sat down in it again."

She cocks an eye back to Lute, thoughtful. "Joy? I do, actually. I like a good challenge." Juno seems thoughtful; her expression seems to cloud over, slightly. "It isn't that I don't enjoy a good challenge. But the Rogue Shadow... it's... different. It's not my ship. It belongs to Inquisitor Starkiller, but it's my responsibility. If anything were to happen to it to compromise it on a more permanent basis, well... that's my responsibility, too. I can't imagine that Lord Vader would appreciate having one of his personal Inquisitor's resources affected in such a way." Her smile is a little uncertain. "Lord Vader just takes having a certain professionality. He has no tolerance for incompetence. So long as one remains competent, one has nothing to fear from him."

She almost sounds like she's trying to convince /herself/ of that.

"Anyway, I enjoy piloting. I enjoy the challenge, and I enjoy the sensation of the ground falling away beneath me. The transition from orbit to space to hyperspace and back again. It never gets old, to me..." She looks up, eyes distant. "Sometimes, I feel like the cockpit is the only place I feel alive. Like that's the only place that matters, really."

Lute (188) has posed:
Lute just lays back, listening. He feels himself beginning to drift off. He thinks back. Concussions... Rest actually isn't bad for them. Especially if he's in a controlled medical environment. So, slowly, he is letting himself drift as he listens to Juno.

He pauses, thinking on it. She likes it more than he thought. All of the yelling and stress she had earlier, he thought she hated it. But maybe that's just how she shows her love? Still, though, he ponders her words, thinking back on something else had heard, a few years back.

"...Unable to get disoriented in space... ...Sounds like you might be a Newtype. Or something similar. ...People whose brains are fit for space travel. Like that... one dude. I can't... can't remember his name right now." He thinks, visualizing Amuro Ray's face from old Confederate reports. But, he can't recall the name. Though, maybe it's that 'Force' thing instead... Maybe it's similar? He really doesn't know.

As he stares at the ceiling, his words start to slur a bit more. His mind is slowing down. But, he still talks. Albeit, a bit less thought is given to it. It's definitely more stream of conciousness right now.

"...I'm jealous. I still don't know... where I fit in. I'm a great monster trainer, but. I don't feel like I have... a full place of my own... I usually don't feel fully alive. I have to try really hard to. ...I don't have a place. I'm barely needed. ....which is why..."

He pauses a bit more as he speaks. He still isn't thinking on his words, though he sounds a bit pained as he keeps talking.

"...it's probably why I'm going to force respect out of the Multiverse. I will have respect. I wlll have loved ones. I will have a purpose in life. Even if I can't think of any purpose I might have.."

The last bit sounds painful to him. The whole lack of purpose or importance really bothers him, but it's not something he talks on often. It's only a fluke he brings it up now. Only because of the blood loss, the loss of conciousness, and the conversation's topic.

But, he continues. Barely at a whisper now, he says one last thing.

"...I'm jealous of you."

And then, his eyes slowly close, as he starts to drift to sleep.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Juno sits with her hands curled around the edge of the cot, arms braced against it. It's an uncharacteristically casual position for her, but she's tired, and there's a growing pressure behind her eyes that tells her she needs to sleep, but... not yet. Lute is still awake, and still talking; even she isn't so heartless as to let anyone fall asleep in that kind of condition.

Her head tilts slightly as she watches him, watching him try to resolve his thoughts into coherent ideas, and ideas into words. There have been times she's felt like that, so weary that she couldn't even marshall her scattered thoughts; times when she's been so wounded or delirious that she couldn't even think straight – crashed TIEs come to mind. They were never designed to land, and she had, on occasion, ridden them down to ground, forced to think quickly to spare her own life in the crash. She'd been lucky, but she'd never gotten away from those landings intact.

"Force-sensitive, you mean? Not at all." Juno shakes her head, and a distant, thoughtful expression flickers across her sharp-featured face. "I have about as much Force-sensitivity as this ship." She leans over to knock on the bulkhead. "It's just a pile of durasteel and other trace alloys, at the end of the day. Some people are just inherently skilled at particular things. My skill is knowing where I stand. Or fly."

She glances aside, looking to the doorway as though she were waiting for someone. "I've always had it. It's part of why I went into piloting instead of engineering. Maybe it would have been more stable, but I think I would have been bored with it to the point of despair. I'd have known I was on the ground, and that I'd never reach the sky or the stars. I think that would have been worse than any hardship I've ever faced in Imperial service."

Some weren't worth it, though. Callos... Callos was never worth it. She looks away, sighing, expression troubled. It fades, though, and she glances back to him when he continues on in his lurching narrative of consciousness. Juno quiest; she doesn't interrupt him, letting him sort his way through his scattered thoughts. Something tells her not to interrupt; he might not be able to get them out again.

Force respect? That sounds like a certain Sith Lord, or perhaps apprentice, for Darth Vader is not the master of the relationship, not really. That prestige belongs to the Emperor himself, but...

She tilts her head to listen to that whisper, and something in her expression... something crumples. She looks almost wounded, for a moment, but not for herself; not out of offense. Sympathy, maybe, or something approaching it.

By the time she does answer him, her own voice is soft, although not a whisper. He probably isn't even conscious to hear it. Most likely he won't even remember it.

"I'm sorry you feel you have so little."

Pushing herself off from the cot, she wavers a moment on her feet, before turning to the nearest medic. "Keep an eye on him. Don't let him leave until you're sure there's no permanent damage. When he's come to, if I'm not available, I want you to provide him with a shuttle and take him to the Citadel. I can lock in the coordinates beforehand if need be; I know the way."

"Yes, ma'am." The medic salutes. "Is there anything else, Captain Eclipse?"

Juno glances back to the prone Pokemon trainer, considering. "Make sure he's not in pain."

"We'll do our best, ma'am."

"I'm going to go find Inquisitor Starkiller, then." With that, she turns to leave – but not without one last look over her shoulder, shaking her head as she turns to go.

Ostensibly, as far as anyone else is aware, she has a report to file with Starkiller; he is the superior in their relationship, and effectively her commanding officer. Unofficially...

Unofficially, he doesn't need to know anything about the ship. He leaves it in her care, trusting her to do what's best for the Rogue Shadow. Unofficially, something about the conversation with the half-delirious man has unsettled her.

The soldiers and scientists of the Empirical will assume she's going to go find Inquisitor Starkiller and deliver her report. In reality, she simply wants to find Galen, drag him back to the Rogue Shadow, and lock the ship down; there, without anyone to watch or report, she can describe the situation, perhaps give some form to her concerns regarding the ship.

More importantly, behind closed doors, she can ask him to hold her until she stops shivering and feeling quite so vulnerable.

Her footsteps echo against the metal deck plating as she leaves, reaching for the radio comm piece at her ear. "Captain Eclipse to PROXY. Wherever you two have gone, tell your master to meet me in the Rogue Shadow at his soonest possible convenience."

The sound of her footsteps, she decides, sounds disconcertingly lonely through the Empirical's near-empty corridors.