Difference between revisions of "1876/Burning Candles"

Latest revision as of 06:40, 26 March 2015

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
The previous night had been something of an excitement for the crew of the Rogue Shadow and the Empirical. As part of its service to the Confederacy at large, the former is used as a means of extracting allied Elites and returning them to safe territory; unfortunately, this can't always be done gracefully or quickly.

Juno Eclipse's attempt to extricate Lute from a bad situation had only wound up with things far worse than they'd started. With no less than four angry Fleet Daughters firing on a ship that was never designed for sustained combat, it was inevitable that the Rogue Shadow take damage; what she hadn't accounted for was that they would fire so much, so long, or that the rounds would have such a disastrous effect on the hull.

The end result was that the ship had gone limping back to the Empirical, unable to complete the trip to the Citadel; as it was, the hyperdrive had finally failed, dropping the ship some distance away from its intended destination, and forcing it to limp on one of two sublight engines back to the Scarl System where the Empirical lurks.

Juno Eclipse had stayed with Lute long enough to make sure that her Elite charge wasn't going to keel over and die, and it had resulted in conversation that had left her feeling unsettled and vulnerable; she had retired to her quarters aboard the Empirical not long after that to sort out her weary thoughts.

Unable to reach any sort of reconciliation, her method of sorting out her thoughts had eventually wound up with a shot or three of cheap Corellian whisky and a nice long sleep to soothe her already-aching head.

Now, she's been up since early in the wake cycle, tinkering with the Rogue Shadow with the help of PROXY. A durasteel worktable nearby is laden with all manner of tools and smaller components, and the entire port side of the ship is ripped away to expose the wiring, circuitry, transfers, and other mechanical guts.

By this point in the morning she's managed to put in a productive several hours' worth of work despite of the dark shadows under her eyes. The stench of smoke still lingers about the damaged engine and hangar, but in spite of her accomplishments, the gnawing sense of frustration and dissatisfaction that still hangs around her like a shroud – something easy enough for anyone close by who's even remotely Force-sensitive to pick up on.

At the moment she's leaned against the hull of the ship, a cup of what looks and smells like coffee in one hand, and a datapad in the other; ship schematics and several red highlight overlays showing the full extent of the repairs she's going to need to do.

She sighs, and the sound is one of fundamental unhappiness. Although she's not addressing anyone in particular, she can be heard muttering a few colourful curses, probably thinking about the debt she's going to extract from Lute for the repairs, the time, the frustration, and – oh, right, he wanted to go to Felucia, too, so all of this is going to have to be finished in less than seventy-two hours.

"Excellent," the pilot declares sourly, to no one in particular. "Well, I suppose there's no point in standing around." Juno turns, setting aside the datapad and sweeping the otherwise-empty hangar with a glance. "PROXY, are you here? I'm going to need your help."

More likely she's probably going to need a break, but she doesn't seem to be in the kind of mood to not be working. The ship may belong to Galen, but the Rogue Shadow is definitely her 'baby.'

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Juno had taken the Rogue Shadow to the Empirical, so when Galen arrives on Vader's personal flagship, it's with an entirely businesslike air. His ship has been damaged, and he is uninjured. These two things do not commonly occur together. He is directed immediately to the Shadow's hangar, dressed in a fresh set of Sith robes. His lightsaber hangs very visibly on his belt, meaning that every hall he went through on the way to his ship was clear. He smiles softly. Despite some of the occasional misgivings he has about his work, the respect and fear he is shown is still very beneficial. He makes his way to the hangar, finding... exactly what he expected to find. Juno hard at work with PROXY's assistance. He crosses the hangar quickly, his steps quick, light, and purposeful.

"Eclipse!" he barks, his voice carrying across the otherwise empty hangar. "What's the status of the Rogue Shadow?"

He can tell it's not good. He makes his way to her, and tries to give her what he hopes is a meaningful look. He tries not to be too obvious with it, though. They are in the heart of the Danger Zone, so to speak. "She looks like she took a beating," he says, crossing her arms. "Will you be able to have it ready before our next job?" He glances over toward PROXY, then back at Juno. He keeps a professional distance. "Looks like you got banged up yourself," he says, a little less businesslike.

He really wishes they were in the Citadel so they could act a little more naturally, but this would have to do for now. He hated having to act so distant, but he does it so well that even he could almost forget who she is to him.

"What in the Empire happened?"

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
When an angry Sith comes storming down the corridor, people have a tendency to get out of the way, and get out of the way fast. Even at her angriest, it's doubtful that Juno could command quite the same degree of respect, although it's likely that if she were furious enough, she could demonstrate a fairly vicious right hook.

Still. People tend not to move for a pilot. They move really fast for an Inquisitor carrying a lightsaber.

She's about to glance down at the datapad for another review when a familiar voice jars her out of her concentration. Some of those emotions stir; there's still a crackling undercurrent of anger – it's not her ship but by God, it's her responsibility – but it's touched by relief.

Juno herself has a bandage over her forehead; it looks like she took a beating along with the ship, although she seems otherwise uninjured. "Inquisitor." She snaps off a razor-sharp salute, because there are eyes watching here that she can't trust. It galls her to have to behave in such a forced manner, but this is the flagship of the Emperor's right-hand man, and she isn't foolish enough to drop her guard.

One gloved hand gestures loosely towards the ship itself, and she shakes her head, sighing.

"What you see is what you get. To say 'she took a beating' is putting it lightly. The port sublight engine is in a bad way, and so is the hyperdrive. The starboard engine is alright, but I'm afraid I might have put a bit of strain on it when I had to limp back to the Empirical." She folds her arms, lips thinning in an expression of displeasure. "Actually, we never made it as far as the Scarl System; the ship dropped us out of hyperspace."

Half a lgance is cast to him, then she flicks her eyes toward the ship. It's a subtle gesture, but one clear to the Inquisitor – if he wants to speak freely, they can take their conversation onto the ship.

Otherwise, she shakes her head and hands him the datapad. On it is a dorsal and lateral view of the ship in wireframe diagram, with red highlighting the areas damaged – the port side is basically one long stretch of red, and there are the beginnings of red cropping up on the starboard side; enough that if there were any other mechanic in charge of this ship, it might be worrisome. Even the cockpit's taken a bit of a beating, by the look of it, although the pattern of damage suggests it's more instability from being knocked around than any actual impact.

"I did, but I'm afraid Lute has the worst of it. He's in the Empirical's infirmary, if he hasn't transferred to the Citadel by now. I ensured that a shuttle pilot was made available in the event that he did want to leave. I'm afraid I've got my hands full, here." She folds her arms, frowning; although the expression is subtle, the emotion is not – another crackle of irritation. "I'll have her ready for the next operation, don't worry about that, Inquisitor. I may not sleep between now and then, but it'll be done. You can't afford to have the ship compromised if Lord Vader requires your talents."

She beckons for him to follow, heading into the ship. "Come on. I'll show you." Another glance over her shoulder; she'd prefer to speak freely rather than worry about putting on airs for potential Imperial watchers.

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen nods as Juno explains the situation, straightening up a bit at her salute. He offers another sharp nod in response. It had been so long since he had been required to act like this around her that he'd almost forgotten the motions. "Hyperdrive and one sublight down?" he asks, boggling, "That's unfortunate, but I suppose it can't be helped in times of war now can it?" He crosses his arms across her chest, noting her glance and giving a very subtle nod with his eyes. He takes the offered datapad, glancing over it with a concerned eye. "Hell, this is extensive. What did they hit it with to do all this damage?"

"PROXY will be helping you every step of the way," he says, "so that should make repairs a little quicker. The outside is bad, but what about the inside? PROXY, stay here and keep working on repairs. Eclipse needs to give me a rundown on internal damage. My meditation chamber damn well better be alright." He gives the droid a look, which PROXY doesn't notice or return. "Affirmative, Master. Repairs are underway. Please do return soon, Captain. There is much work to be done still."

With that, he follows her into the Rogue Shadow, punching the hatch close behind him.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
At Galen's obvious surprise, Juno lifts both arms in a surly sort of shrug. It's a bit of a role reversal, with him taking the news calmly and her irritated, but she's come to be a bit possessive over the ship.

"Four Fleet Daughters. I believe Lute's already filed a report on the matter. The forward external sensors on the port side are more or less destroyed, but I'll see what sensor data I can salvage." She sighs, reaching up and straightening her cap. "There might be something useful left, but the entire array's going to need replacement. I had PROXY hunting down components for me earlier. Until this is repaired, the Rogue Shadow's going to have to remain on the Empirical; there are too many specialised components that I need, and the Citadel can't supply them."

That is to say, the Rogue Shadow has its sneaky-sneaky designs, and she's not willing to part with the schematics... or entrust the repairs to anybody else. She trusts PROXY with the ship, and she'd trust Galen if he took a more direct hand in it, but that's about it.

Stubborn woman.

"I can't give you any promises, but it should be intact. It's on the starboard side," she tosses over her shoulder, "and most of the damage is concentrated to port." Juno sighs and starts up the ramp. "I can't say the same for the commons, unfortunately."

She seems to soften a little at the droid's chastising. He might be a creepy little bugger and she might not entirely trust him not to flip his programming and try to kill her, but even she's not cruel enough to saddle him with the entire job. "Of course, PROXY. I'm not going to leave you alone to do all of... this." She gestures, nebulously.

Half a glance is cast over her shoulder when the hatch is punched closed; she winces a bit, though whether it's from the violence of the motion or the budding headache, she's not sure.

"You might as well see the interior damage. Come on." She beckons for Galen to follow, rounding the corner into the commons. It's a sizable chamber, about the same size as the meditation chamber, split between a sort of living area and the sleeping quarters. It's a mess, with storage cylinders knocked askew and one part of the hull suspiciously crumpled inward – probably an explosion, but not strong enough to punch a hole in the hull itself. (Just as well, or she wouldn't be here complaining about all the work.)

Reaching up, she adjusts the bandage around her forehead, muttering under her breath. "I don't know what in the bloody hell he was after, but if we'd gotten out of there quicker, none of this would've happened." She gestures irritably to indicate the ship at large. "Him and his bloody crusade. I don't know what the story of the Abyssals or Fleet Daughters or whatever are, and frankly, I don't care. It's more trouble than it's worth. I informed him I'm doubling his rate for that trip to Felucia."

"But..." She looks over to him, something softening in her expression; all that crackling anger and irritation seeming to bleed out of her. "It's funny. Maybe it was the sedatives, or the blood loss, but he seemed... he..." She gestures, nebulously. "He was asking why I became a pilot; he seemed to think I didn't actually enjoy it." Here she crooks half a smile. "Couldn't be more untrue, of course. But..." The half-smile fades. "He said he was... jealous. That I had a purpose; a place."

Although she doesn't say anything more on it, it's clear through the Force that the words, somehow, had deeply upset her – then and now, and her emotions are a roil of something ugly; not anger, but something more bleak and hollow. Not quite frightened, but vulnerable.

"I haven't had a purpose since before Callos," she murmurs. "That's what it's felt like to me, anyway."

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen tsks. "Fleet Daughters... interesting-sounding group. Union aligned, I'd imagine. How irritating. I'll need to take them on after the Shadow is repaired and let them know I don't have much appreciation for this damage." His fingers seem to spark with lightning for a moment, but the effect is fleeting. He attempts to keep his irritation in check, though. Rage won't do him any good here. He nods a bit at the fact that the Shadow had to stay put. "I expected as much from your transmission last night. I suppose that can't be helped."

Perhaps the punch had been a little stronger than he had intended, but there were a lot of things flowing through his mind currently. Concern for Juno, anger at her wounds and at the state of the Shadow, rage toward those that had caused it. But at the same time, it was a war. He didn't particularly feel malice toward anyone opposing him, seeing them as required stepping stones in his own path. He rubs his knuckles, then shakes his head. "Sorry about that," he says, "Won't happen again."

"I don't get it either," he says, "But then again, I'm just coming back from a long mission. There's a lot I don't really get. The fee you're charging him ought to be fair repayment for this and the risk of Felucia. There's also the matter of what he's going to have to do for my Rancor-hunting services." He had fought and slain Rancor before, but it was never a pleasant experience. The big brutes were incredibly tough to take down.

"Maybe he knows of some tech I can work into a lightsaber..." he muses, before Juno continues. Galen's features seem to melt from his profession Inquisitor air to his more natural, Galenesque form. He can sense the vulnerability in the wake of her words, and he takes a few steps forward, moving to hug the pilot. Inside the Shadow, he was certain they wouldn't be interrupted, even on the Empirical.

"You've had plenty of purpose since then," he replies, voice soft yet strong and comforting, "You got assigned to work with me, didn't you?"

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"I'm fairly certain the Fleet Daughters are aligned with the Union, but I haven't looked into them specifically." Juno shakes her head, reaching up to clear away a stray wisp of hair that's escaped her uniform cap. "I'll definitely be looking into them more, now. If they've got that kind of firepower at their disposal, I'm going to have to watch myself the next time the Rogue Shadow's in the general vicinity."

Obviously they're not afraid to open fire without much warning, and that was a particularly unpleasant way to find out just how hard they can hit. Granted, the Rogue Shadow isn't designed to hold up under extended combat – but it's still made to weather a few hits, and it almost didn't. She's lucky they hadn't ruptured an engine.

She glances aside at the closed hatch, not quite muttering under her breath, but again there's that tell-tale swirl of irritation. She doesn't like being stationed aboard the Empirical; while the facilities are familiar, the constant need to put on a front for her fellow Imperials takes conscious effort at this point. True, it's something she's done most of her life, whether she'd been aware of it or not – but it's been an exhausting effort ever since the bitter disappointment of Callos.

"I've been here for most of the time you've been on, and there's plenty that I don't 'get,'" Juno points out. "Whether you're here or not doesn't change much of that. I suppose it's just the way of the multiverse." She has to wonder; is it any easier for him? Having the Dark Side to guide him, to give him some measure of direction, while she drifts as lost as a ship without a hyperdrive?

She shakes her head again to the matter of Felucia, but this time it seems more resigned than anything else. "I can't think of anything else I'd want out of him, and I want as little to do as possible with the business of rancors. I find I've grown rather attached to having all of my limbs intact, and not spread across a ten-kilometer span across Felucia's undergrowth." Juno shivers. "Ugh. I wish I hadn't said anything to him. I'd have been just as happy never to go back there again."

"I doubt he knows which end of a lightsaber to hold," she mutters, in regards to potential tech. "To that end, I doubt he knows much about anything that might interface with one. Anyway, I'm sure you'll think of something." She shrugs. "There has to be something worthwhile that he'd be able to do for you."

She doesn't protest or pull away, letting him into her personal space. Although hardly a dependent sort of personality, even she needs a hug once in a while; she leans against him with a tired sigh, resting her head on his shoulder in a silent admission of exhaustion.

"Maybe," she admits, letting herself be swayed a little by the confidence in his voice. Slowly, her arms circle around him, grateful for the privacy of the ship. "I have to wonder, sometimes..." Why does the Empire do such senseless, cruel things? What did the Jedi do that was so terrible? But the questions elude her, or maybe she just doesn't have the presence of mind to put them to voice. She sighs, slumping against him. "Maybe I'm just tired. I've been at this since..."

There's a significant pause.

"...What time is it, anyway?" she mumbles into his shoulder, realising with some annoyance that she's long since lost track of it.

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
"Next time they're around, I want to be there," Galen says, a little bit of lightning arcing from his fingers again. It only has a weak charge, though, not enough to hurt anyone. He seems to notice it this time and gets a better rein on his annoyance. "I need to test the limits of the Union's strength anyway. See if there's any sort of threat on that side. I'd imagine there'd have to be, if there are Jedi over there." He shakes his head. These Fleet Daughters had landed on his bad side for busting up Juno and his ship, and he could use that as a springboard to figure out what all the Union has to offer.

Multiverse. He seems to twitch at this word. This place had made his life infinitely more confusing, but he still had his job to follow along with for now. However, with so many more worlds and people to contend with, there was so much more to consider. For the moment, however, the Multiverse was distant. This right now was familiar enough for him.

"Don't worry about the Rancors," he says, "You can stay on ship and fly support while we do all the dirty work. The cleanup, though..." He says this with a light mock in his tone. "Felucia is a messy world to deal with, but we've done it before. Maybe it won't be so bad." It was totally going to be just as bad. They both knew that. "He doesn't need to know how to use one, just offer potential tech ideas and access. Even some new crystals might help me."

As Juno returns his hug, he smiles. For that moment, the fact that they're on the Empirical doesn't matter. She rests against him, and he keeps her steady. As she speaks, some of the unspoken subtext is picked up on, but he doesn't say anything in response.

At her question, though, he laughs out loud. "It's mid-evening already, Juno. How long HAVE you been at this?"

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"I'm sure you'll get your chance." Juno glances sidelong, just in time to notice that flicker of lightning. That still fascinates her, and it's one of the things that frustrates her when it comes to understanding the mysterious Force. Surely it must be some kind of electromagnetism, then? He shoots lightning from his fingertips. How does he manage it? "As far as Jedi run, I haven't heard of any, but I also haven't had any particular cause to go digging. It's possible there may be some databases that could help us in that regard."

Hmmm. Well, her next Confederate job is probably cut out for her. Find some Union intelligence databases, and go rooting around through them. Great. The last time she did that, she got kicked almost through a wall by Amalthea.

"Good, because I have no intention of stepping off the ship while that lunatic goes looking for a pissed-off rancor." Juno casts him a flat look. "I'm staying up here, where it's safe, and the only thing I have to contend with are the fungal spores and the fliers and the... alright, so it's not necessarily safe in a place like Felucia, but at least I won't have to worry about the rancors."

She pinches the bridge of her nose, screwing her eyes shut. There are days, sometimes, when she wishes she were back in the cockpit of a TIE fighter. There was always a beautiful, brutal sort of simplicity about those tin cans.

"Mid-evening?!" The word is almost a squawk; for a brief instant Juno has half a mind to break free and run back for the work she'd left outside, but... she's probably been at this longer than she'd like to admit, or at least longer than she can remember, and a break is good. Besides, he'd likely make her stop anyway. She sighs, slumping. "Some time this morning. It wasn't long into the Empirical's wake cycle when I started. I... twelve hours? Maybe a little less."

She is, for a brief instant, painfully aware that she left her coffee outside the ship. He can probably feel how tired she is; she leans on him, and Juno is not the sort of person who leans, most of the time.

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen smiles softly. "I know I will. I have to take a more active role in certain events around here. Pull my weight, you know? These Daughters just gave me a starting point is all." He listens quietly, hrming softly to himself. "I'm sure Shaak Ti might try and head for their ranks if she can. Or maybe one of their worlds for asylum. If there are others, though, I may get Confederate and Imperial orders to hunt them down."

Galen chuckles slightly at Juno's reaction. "They're not all that bad. If you just dodge them and don't let them hit you ever you'll be fine," he smirks, "Then you just blast them with the lightning and carve them up." Because, you know, everyone can do that. EVERYONE. "You could probably wait in orbit even. I'm sure we can take enough ground forces to protect ourselves well enough. That way the only mess we have to deal with is what we lug back into the ship with us."

Galen chuckles again, shaking his head. "You really lose yourself in working on the Shadow, don't you?" he asks, smiling softly. She seems to tense up and he thinks she might head back out to work some more, but instead she slumps in his arms, leaning against him. "Twelve hours... you are dedicated to this ship. But you CAN rest from time to time. PROXY doesn't need to rest, you know."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"I'd be surprised if Shaak Ti hadn't headed for their ranks already. Any of the Jedi. After losing Kota and Kazdan Paratus, they've got to know that something's hunting them." Juno looks thoughtful for a moment. "I can't imagine that they aren't in contact with one another, if nothing else." No doubt most of them are using every resource they can get their hands on just to survive.

She tilts her head, casting him an extremely flat, bland look when he mentions that the rancors aren't too bad, as long as one doesn't go anywhere near them ever. "Not all of us can cheat," she points out, prodding him in the forearm with an index finger. "Which is why you get to go play with them on the ground, and I get to stay in the cockpit, where it's reasonably safe. Maybe you blast them with lightning. I'll fall back on my blaster, thank you very much. Actually, no. The ship's cannon might be better for something that big."

There's a brief, thoughtful pause.

"And angry," she adds.

Waiting in orbit is unreasonably tempting, but in the end, she has to shake her head to that suggestion. "No. I want the ship nearby in case something happens. I might joke about it, but I can't leave you there in the thick of it while half of Felucia's animal kingdom is in open revolt, just because Lute wanted an egg." She pauses, and then adds blandly, "He can stay, though."

Is she being serious? Probably not.

"Mess? It's not going to be my responsibility. Not this time. He's scrubbing the ship down after we're finished, and I'm going to sit and watch him." Juno grins, and it's not a very nice grin. She might actually be serious about that part; the last time she'd had to clean up after a trip to Felucia, it had taken what felt like weeks to scrape the gunk off the ship and out of the engine intakes. "And PROXY is not to help him in any way, shape, or form."

She glances aside, regarding the ship for a moment, head tilting up as she looks it over. "Yeah... I guess I do." Finally, she sighs, slumping against him and letting her head fall onto his shoulder. "Ugh; has it really been twelve hours? No, it probably has; I don't usually miss my estimates with time. I just lose track of it as I go." He might feel her heave a sigh, one of wearinses. "That's true, but it feels a little wrong ordering him to keep going while I'm not," she points out; although her eyes lift to look at him, she doesn't move. "It's a little hypocritical."

"Besides, I want to be there to keep an eye on what he's doing. He doesn't know the ship as well as I do." More importantly, she doesn't trust him, but she's not mean-spirited enough to say that. She knows PROXY is one of his oldest, and only, friends.

Mumbling something vague, she buries her face against his shoulder, making a valiant effort to ignore just how worn-down she's feeling. "You know, sometimes I wish this were a standard ship so I could order a crew to help me with this, but... then it wouldn't be quite so special. I do lose myself working on the Rogue Shadow. It's unique. I've never flown, or worked on, a ship like it." She manages a tired half-smile. "It suits you, you know?"

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
"Maybe she doesn't know about them yet," Galen notes, "Which would make it really convenient when I resume the chase." If she found the Union, it might be harder to hunt her down if she had the backing of a superfaction. He figured he could still do it, but it would be a much more difficult task. And that wouldn't do. Anything that would make his job harder would make the Empire a bit more reluctant to send him out, and 'retirement' might not be far behind.

The Sith smirks again. "It's not cheating, it's just an advantage that I happen to have," he says, "That's where I want you to stay anyway. I need someone on high making sure we don't get devoured. And, well, if we do, at least you can get away and report our condition." He smiles again. "Not that eating me would help them, of course. I could probably just tear myself out." He rolls his shoulders a bit. He softens a bit as she follows up, and he chuckles. "Let's not leave him there either. He seems like a decent enough guy. No one deserves to be Rancor excrement."

He does chuckle at the idea of someone cleaning the ship under Juno's supervision, shaking his head slightly. "That seems fair," he says, "I'll make it so." He gives her a slight squeeze, still wrapped in his arms. "Eh, he'll be fine for a little bit longer. If he does snap, he'll come after me anyway," Galen says, "It's true though. He's still a droid. He can do basic maintenance, but full scale repairs are hard for him. That, and he knows how she feels about the Shadow. It's as much hers as it is his, if not moreso.

"I doubt a whole crew could do the work you do on it anyway," he says after a moment. He pauses again, then lets out a sigh. "Suits me? This is a stealth ship. I think I'm missing something here."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"Maybe." Juno lifts one shoulder in an indifferent shrug. "It would make sense for her, or any of them, to do that. The Union could provide them the protection they're looking for; or at least make it harder for you to get to them. Put off the inevitable, I suppose."

Under most circumstances, she tries not to think too hard about Galen's day job.

"It's cheating," the pilot insists, folding her arms and grumbling a little. "It might be an advantage you 'happen' to have, but it's not an advantage most people have. And it's certainly an advantage I don't have. As for the ship, excellent," she adds, somewhat sarcastically. "I'm so glad you approve."

She looks uneasy for a moment, or maybe undecided; before shaking her head again. "No. He's actually not that decent, but he's an ally, and I can hardly leave him there. Even if it's a definite temptation."

"Really? Oh, that would be wonderful." Is that going to mean Lute will be scrubbing the ship down for days and ensuring every single speck of fungus is gone from the hull and out of the engine intakes? Hell yes, it does, but as Galen points out, it's probably fair. As it is, she hadn't particularly wanted to go back to Felucia; once in a lifetime was more than enough for her, and even then, they'd failed in finding the Jedi Master the first time, so Galen had been sent back alone to suss Shaak Ti out of the mushroom forests.

Third time's a charm. Maybe they'll actually run into her this time. Galen might look forward to the challenge, but she finds herself distinctly worried over that possibility. A rancor – or the better part of an entire angry herd of rancors – is one thing; a Jedi Master something else entirely.

"Oh, well, that's comforting," she mutters sarcastically. It's true that PROXY would probably go after Galen, first, but really... how's that any different from any other day? He's constantly ambushing Galen, and consistently disappointed that he fails his primary programming time after time. It must be hard to have something so unreachable as one's primary programming; while he's good at keeping Galen on his toes, there's simply no contest between the two in terms of raw skill. If PROXY were a serious opponent, he'd be a pile of scrap in seconds flat, she's fairly certain.

It doesn't keep her from worrying every time they duel, though.

"Not that part," Juno protests, leaning back just far enough to give him a half-hearted punch on the shoulder. It's not enough to even sting. "The aesthetics of it. It's sleek, it's fast, and it's deadly in the right hands. That part suits you," she insists, canting her head to one side to glance up at him. "Not the stealth part." The pilot can't help a grin. "Definitely not the stealth part, but that's alright." Leaning her head on his shoulder, she lets him prop her up, because she's suddenly aware of how very exhausted she is and standing under her own power seems like a bother. Her eyes drift but don't quite close entirely; where she'd been irritable and unsettled earlier, she seems wholly content, now. "I wouldn't change anything about you."

There's a brief pause.

"...Except maybe your propensity for dragging messes onto the entry hatch."

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
The Sith laughs a bit, rolling past the talk of Shaak Ti. He doesn't want to think of the mission right now while he didn't have to. There would be plenty of time for that later, after the Empire found her and sent him back out after her. For now, though, Shaak Ti wasn't the highest priority on his list. "You're just jealous," he mocks teasingly, "You get to just fly the ship while I go and have all the fun." He didn't actually believe that, but it wouldn't be normal if he didn't rib her a little bit.

He laughs again as she seems content in the knowledge that Lute would be on cleaning detail after the Felucia trip. She seemed genuinely pleased by it in fact, and he laughs a bit more loudly at her reaction. "Remind me to stay on your good side," he says, "I don't want you trying to make ME scrub the Felucia crud out of the floors." He might actually do it if they weren't in Imperial space, but probably not. PROXY could deal with that instead.

"I haven't lost yet, have I?" he remarks. If he had, they wouldn't be talking about it right now. That prime directive had been a cruel move on Vader's part, but it made sense. If he succeeded, he'd live and train more. If he died, Vader would know he wasn't worth a damn. It was a logical move on Lord Vader's part. Didn't mean Galen liked it.

As Juno explains herself, Galen laughs. "Oh, so I'm sleek, fast, and deadly? Well, hard to fault you there," he says, laughing a bit more. "Hey, if you changed that part, we wouldn't be as good a match. I bring messes, and you solve them. It's a perfect dynamic."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"Jealous? Hardly. I find Felucia's ecosystem interesting, but even I'm smart enough to know not to study that up-close and personal." Juno doesn't quite glare up at him. "I'd rather be on the ship, thank you, where the air is breathable, my surroundings are clean, and I don't have half an ecosystem trying to kill me at any given point in time. And might I remind you that the rancors Lute is so very interested in are, if not Felucia's apex predator, very close to the top of the food chain?"

Not that he needs any reminder. He's fought them before, and they're not necessarily restricted to Felucia. There are a few planets where the aptly-named creatures can be found. It just happens to be the worst environment she can think of for going out and bothering them.

Then again, there's hardly a good environment for doing that.

"Keep the mess on the forest floor and off the ship and you'll stay on my good side," Juno retorts, jabbing him in the forearm with an index finger again. "Make a mess like the last time were on Felucia, and you're going to be right down there with Lute, scrubbing for the next week."

She rolls a bland look at him when he mentions he hasn't lost to PROXY yet. Well, of course not, or they wouldn't be having this conversation at all. She'd still be in the cockpit of a TIE fighter, somewhere in the galaxy, if she hadn't gone out in a blaze of glory over some rebel hot zone or another – as a TIE pilot, she'd always imagined she would probably die in battle, with medals draped posthumously over her grave.

Now, she's not so sure. Her life's become a great deal more complicated since those days... although in other ways, it's also become refreshingly simple.

"W-well, those aren't the exact words I'd use." The pilot flushes, not quite sputtering. She's too articulate to sputter, at least not unless she's exceptionally angry. Then she'll sputter, and also curse like a (space) sailor, as Lute found out. "But they do fit. You're fast. You're thin as a whip and I'm still convinced you're not eating right. And I've never seen anyone move as silently as you do." Especially when he's on the hunt.

She snorts. "Oh? Well, if you bring messes, Galen, then I'll make you clean them up. It's that simple. You've entrusted this ship to me, more or less, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let it fall to neglect."

There's a short pause.

"Or rancor entrails."

Sighing irritably (and it's only mock irritation, anyway; he can sense that much from her), she leans against him and mutters under her breath about cleaning detail. Maybe she'll just make him do it anyway after they've visited Felucia...

"I suppose I should actually finish showing you the rest of the ship. This isn't the worst of the damage," she says, shaking her head and gesturing with a free hand to indicate the bulkhead where the Rogue Shadow had been shot up by the Fleet Daughters' guns. "It really does look pretty bad, although I'm hoping it looks worse than it is in some parts..."

...She's still not moving, though, and in fact rests her head on his shoulder.

"Later," she mutters into his shoulder, with a half-grin. "It isn't like we get much opportunity to be ourselves here."

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen rolls his eyes a bit. "They smell really awful," he offers, "and they don't seem to have any predators. So yeah, apex for sure. I doubt there's much that could deal with an angry bull Rancor without, you know, weapons." He chuckles, resting his chin on her hat for a moment. He was really not looking forward to fighting them again, but he can and will take them down if he's needed to. If Lute wanted a Rancor, he'd have a Rancor, and damn the consequences. "I'll do my best," he adds, his tone long-suffering, "No guarantees there, though." He could probably do some bulk cleaning with the Force if he had to, and would just to keep Juno not angry.

He laughs at her reaction to his joke, shaking his head. "I eat plenty. I just burn it all off working the way I do. And... well, yeah, the rest works." He gives a big cheesy grin for a moment, then frowns again. "Maybe we should invest in a cleaning bot. I mean, my job is to hunt and yours is to fly. Cleaning isn't in either of our titles. And PROXY already does a lot."

Galen pulls her in a bit closer as she rests her head on his shoulder. "I think I've got the gist of the damage," he says softly, "Just take a bit of time to relax. You've been working way too hard."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"I don't know," Juno comments, thoughtful. "The natives seemed to do alright for themselves. Enough to cause you trouble, anyway. Besides, if anything had to deal with the angry bull rancor, they'd have to deal with the rest of the herd, too. In my experience, rancors don't do anything quietly if it involves things like 'unmitigated aggression.'"

Of course, if she knew his line of thinking about using the Force to do the cleaning for him, there would undoubtedly be scolding for that. That's cheating... although when it comes down to it, she might get frustrated with him from time to time, but it's hard for her to be truly angry at him.

If she didn't have Galen, then what would she have left?

"No thanks." She shakes her head, eyeing him; although she watches him from an awkward angle, there's no mistaking the significance of her look. "I think PROXY is enough. Another droid means another potential avenue of Imperial control, no matter how simple a droid it might seem, and that means another secret to keep. It's... it's hard enough as it is, sometimes."

Sometimes it seems like she never has an opportunity to put down the masks and simply be herself; just stolen moments like these, all for worry that someone within the Imperial power structure might discover just what sort of leverage Inquisitor and pilot are to one another – Inquisitors have many enemies, after all; nobody appreciates an internal affairs agent of any kind.

No; that's the stuff of nightmares. If Darth Vader were to discover that his personal Inquisitor harboured that sort of attachment to anyone, he would waste no time in severing that attachment in the most traumatic way possible.

"I can handle the cleaning," she murmurs, sighing in resignation.

It might be nice to have another droid to share the workload, but the risk is just too much. It's also something she finds a particular satisfaction in. The ship is his in name only; in reality, it's hers as much as it is his. She certainly puts in the work to qualify as the Rogue Shadow's co-owner. No; she'll just have to continue relying on PROXY, and splitting her time in ways that, for the moment, it ought not be split.

"There's no time to relax," she insists, but there's no real substance to her protest. She buries her face against his shoulder for a moment; grateful, perhaps, to lean on him instead of standing under her own power. Sometimes she doesn't even realise how raw she works herself – sometimes it means keeping her away from the nightmares of Callos; other times she simply has that much of a workload. While she does generally take care of herself, sometimes it isn't feasible. Sometimes there just isn't time.

Sometimes, though, she just has to make time. He's right, no matter how much she wants to throw herself into her work. She has to stop and take care of herself, or she's going to burn out with the rate she's been going at. Stimulants and Imperial combat training can't sustain her forever.

Her arms tighten around him, and there's something of a tired desperation in the gesture; the way one hand clutches the vest he's wearing, briefly, before it relaxes. "I know." Her admission is quiet; not quite a whisper, and she seems content to keep her face buried against his shoulder. It's reassuring not to have to face the problems she normally tackles with enthusiasm; she's tired, more tired than she's willing to admit, but he's right. She has to admit it, and stop pushing herself. "I know, Galen; I know... I want to rest. I do. I'm... I'm exhausted. But there's so much to do, and I just can't relax in this place." Aboard the Empirical, that is. "The sooner I can station the Rogue Shadow in the Citadel, the better."

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen frowns slightly. Felucia is definitely a planet where everything, even the plants at times, want you to die and become food for something that will eventually end up eaten by a Rancor. In that regard, everything leads to Rancors. Everything. Killing a few of them and stealing an egg wouldn't change the ecosystem, nor would it make Felucia more habitable. It was... just a pain of a planet. He hated it, but not as much as Juno did.

Another droid would complicate the ship a bit, it's true, but he thought it would help her out. Her objection, however, puts the end to it. "Alright, alright, fair enough," he says, shrugging a bit. "You have a good point." He knows that more Imperial influence would be bad, but he wants to make things in the Shadow as comfortable for her as he can at the same time. It was a rough life they led, after all.

"No time, except this time," he says, his voice insistent. "I've been enjoying my time relaxing recently. You should try it instead of insisting on burning the candle at both ends." He lets her lean against him, supporting her with ease. He's well rested, and she's clearly exhausted. "If you're exhausted, then sleep. Being on board the Empirical doesn't change the fact that your a human. We'll get the ship running, and head to the Citadel. For now, though, you need sleep. So either head back to the cot, or..."

He smirks at her. "I'll call a shuttle and send you to the Citadel to rest while I watch the Shadow."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Killing a few rancors to get hold of an egg wouldn't do much more than upset Felucia's local wildlife. Upsetting Felucia's local wildlife tends to result in a lot of bad things happening, very specifically, to the person doing the upsetting. The thought of knowingly pitching Galen headfirst into that sort of insanity is not a thought that sits well with the pilot.

Once upon a time, she might not have minded so much; it would have been a job like any other, and she would have been following her duty as she had from the first.

Now, though... now it's a lot harder. She cares too much to be able to walk calmly into a situation like that without feeling her stress levels rise; she knows she'll spend most of her time in nerve-wracking anxiety while Galen goes about pissing off the local rancor population.

Lute can probably take care of himself; maybe in some way she understands him, but she's not particularly attached to him. Galen... well, attachment is probably one of the looser, more vague terms she could use. Very vague, compared to what she might have in mind. How do you throw someone you love to the wolves?

Or even worse, rancors?

"Somehow, I have a hard time imagining you relaxing." Juno mumbles the words into his shoulder and forearm, voice muffled, and twists her head just far enough to glance up at him; one blue eye and one skeptically arched brow, and a few stray strands of white-gold hair. "But fine, fine; you're right. I know I'm tired... I can worry about the repairs tomorrow, and maybe PROXY can help me get a head start on it."

Yawning, she shifts her weight, pulling away from him only reluctantly. "Fine. But you're coming with me, because I can show you the damage along the way." She lets her hand fall to take his wrist, giving a pointed tug.

Down the corridor she leads him, toward the aft of the ship; when she rounds the corner into the commons on the port side, it's clear that that's where the brunt of the damage fell. Storage cylinders are still strewn about where they'd fallen, scattered like a child's toys; the hull is even crumpled here or there, where shots or explosions had punched through the shields and threatened to buckle it. Nothing had breached, though, fortunately; or she wouldn't be here to point these things out to him. Although there isn't any loose electricity, it's clear that there was some kind of electrical damage, to go by the charred swaths along the exposed hull plating.

Most of it seems alright, though; the worst of the damage is outside, to the Rogue Shadow's massive engine blocks. The port sublight drive is toast, and the hyperdrive, central between the two engines and fed into both, will need a lot of work to be functional again.

Dimly, she's aware of the mess, but PROXY can clean the knocked-over things; most of any of the ship's minimalistic furniture is bolted to the floor and hull.

The crew quarters, which really doesn't seem to be much more than an afterthought, fared well enough through the assault. There's ntohing in the small room to be knocked loose; the cot – which she's had replaced with something less cramped, by the look of it – is bolted securely to the wall.

She's already shrugging out of her jacket and kicking off her boots, and she's barely aware of crossing the room and flopping onto the cot. Her answer to him is more a mumble than anything else, hair disheveled from her. "Alright, alright. No, I'd rather stay here. Besides, I'm not leaving you here. And I'm not leaving the Rogue Shadow here, either," she adds, glaring at him. Poor ship. She shuts her eyes. "You can stay if you want to," she mumbles, cracking an eye open halfway and glancing back up at him. "The ship's locked down and PROXY should be busy for a while outside the ship."

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen smirks slightly as she mentions not being able to picture him relaxed. "Well, PROXY's outside, locked out, and no one can see us. I feel as relaxed as an Inquisitor can afford to at the very least," he says. She grabs his wrist and drags him toward the sleeping quarters, and he surveys the damage on the way. The commons is cluttered but mostly in tact. The hull is severely caved in places. He observes all this and frowns, angry at the Fleet Daughters for bashing his ship in. But more than that, he was angry at himself for not being there while it was happening and attempting to stop it.

What if one of their shots HAD broken the hull? Then he'd likely be a complete Sith right now, forced to leave Juno in the shell of the ship while he went on a one-man journey of revenge. His hand balls into a fist. He couldn't let that happen again. As worried as she was about him, he was equally worried about her. She was more than just his pilot, that was already established, but she was the only thing keeping him from giving in to the Dark Side. While it should be his one desire to do so, he can't allow himself to fall to it.

Even if it would come with incredible power.

She was worth more than that sort of empty power.

When they reach the crew quarters, she immediately heads to the now-larger cot. He smiles a bit, leaning against the door frame. "See?" he says playfully, "I knew you'd see reason." She can't keep herself up that much longer, he can see. He just leans, watching her settle in. "I'll stay until you go to sleep, then I'll start getting the inside back in order. PROXY can handle the outside until you wake up, and I can do a little bit myself." Even as they speak, there's the sound of large canisters moving back into their normal positions. "Rest well, Juno."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"I'm fairly confident he could get into the ship if he really needed to." Juno's observation is half-hearted. It's true that the droid could force entry; she hasn't been able to bypass his security protocols just yet, and Galen would definitely notice if she did. The only thing stopping her from doing that is the fact that PROXY's just too darned polite to enter the ship unannounced.

It's just part of the way PROXY is. He's helpful, he enjoys serving the people he considers his masters, and oh by the way, he's programmed to kill Galen at every opportunity; nice to meet you. Come to think of it, the first time she'd met either the Sith or his droid, they'd been earnestly attempting to kill each other in this very hangar, and she'd been earnestly priming her blaster, prepared to plug whatever fool was throwing around dangerous and volatile components and chemicals – at least, until she'd seen them.

These days she's more or less used to their murderous sparring matches, or at least as used to them as she's ever going to get; with the stipulation that they leave the cockpit out of it on pain of throwing one or both of them out the nearest airlock.

Just as he worries about her, though, and recognises that she is his shackle against the Dark Side of the Force, he is just as much her own anchor against... what is it that someone without any Force-sensitivity struggles against, anyway? Apathy? Despair? Normal emotions, to be sure, but no less life-changing for all that. He holds those things back, for her; his mere presence helps her cope with the sometimes senseless cruelty of serving the Empire. She still has nightmares about Callos, and that was by now years ago. How much worse would it be if missions like that were routine?

No; just as he considers her worth more than the incredible power he might wield, he's worth more to her than prestige or Imperial place – those things mean nothing to her, now; and they haven't for quite a long time.

"This time," she warns him, but the protest is lacking. One hand rises to wave at him, dismissively; she mumbles something else, but the words are mostly lost. After a few seconds she makes a more concerted effort. "Do whatever you need to do. If you touch the ship's systems or engines, mark it on the datapad out there."

There's a long pause where it almost seems as though she might have already drifted off.

Then, extremely muffled, there comes one last statement; spoken warmly, even though she can hardly string the words together any more, slurring.

"Good night, Galen..."

To his satisfaction, perhaps, there comes no more commentary from the pilot. She's out like a light.