1796/Systems Upgrade

Systems Upgrade
Date of Scene:	13 March 2015
Location:	The Citadel - Hangars
Synopsis:	Juno conducts a few upgrades on the Rogue Shadow, making a bit of a mess in the process.
Cast of Characters:	428, 731

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Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
In the hangars of the Citadel, there are facilities for just about every known type of vehicle. Great ocean-going vessels rub shoulders with transports designed to sail the clouds, docked beside ships engineered to travel the void between the stars.

It's these last of particular importance, and there are a great many of them stationed here from the Galactic Empire. Sleek and predatory, most of them are attack ships, although a few transports and cargo vessels can be found; racks of TIE Fighters are also stored here, although these are a little more dingy-looking than the other ships. There's a bit less care in their construction and maintenance. After all, the average TIE pilot doesn't have a very long life expectancy.

Down at the end of its own hangar section, the Rogue Shadow broods in predatory silence, the sleek sweep of its wings casting shadow over the metal deck. A workbench is set up beside it, laden with all manner of custom hydrospanners, tools, and smaller supplies. The Rogue Shadow's entry ramp is open; though the outside is more or less accounted for, there are still enough bits and pieces of starship on the inside of the entry ramp to suggest that the ship's being maintained or upgraded. Or, perhaps both.

A little sleuthing would find Juno Eclipse inside the ship, with her usual Imperial uniform. Well, almost. Her jacket's been discarded over the pilot's chair, leaving her in that white halter-top. Juno herself is sprawled beside it to face the foot of the pilot's console laid open, faded white scars from engineering or piloting mishaps on her hands and arms standing out against the flush of her skin; it's not particularly hot in the ship, but she's obviously been at this for a while, and it's an awkward position to be digging around inside a console. Exposed wiring, circuitry, and support infrastructure are bared for the world to see. She's got a hydrospanner in one hand, and a flashlight of some sort clutched in her teeth, hard at work teasing a small group of wires out from the depths of the console.

Something's playing over the ship's speakers. It sounds suspiciously like what would be classical music, if it were Earth.

Every so often a piece of durasteel support is chucked over her shoulder, to join the growing pile behind her, or a piece here or there of faulty wiring; further back in the cockpit, behind the pilot's and copilot's chairs, there is a growing pile of debris. Most of them land with a clatter, but some miss the pile, landing with a harsh clang not too far from the main pile.

Somebody's hard at work, although technically, she never cleared it with the ship's owner – but it's probably a sign of trust that he doesn't ask, and sometimes she just plain forgets to tell him when she's improving the Rogue Shadow in some form or another. Whatever it is, the ship's probably going to be good as new by the time she's done, or even better! She is, after all, as proficient an engineer as she is a pilot.

The music over the ship's speakers is subtle, and despite the occasional grunt from the pilot herself as she fights with stubborn components, there's a quiet sound from her position.

...Is she humming? She must be in a good mood indeed. Diagnostics have since finished, the ship's running like new, the consoles are getting a much-needed upgrade. And, more importantly, the ship's owner is back. While she wouldn't normally show too much public reaction to that, the ship is as secure a place as it gets for her. Nobody but Vader would dare intrude without asking permission to come aboard, and she'd know if he were on his way. No master of stealth is he, after all... and it's entirely possible she might have the hangar cameras outside the ship sliced to route a warning to the ship's computer.

All in all, it's a good day, she's gotten some productive work done, and life is looking pretty good in general. What's not to be pleased about?

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Exhaustion, it seems, can take even a Sith out of commission for awhile. When Galen drags himself awake again, he notes the empty spot beside him and shakes his head. He doesn't react otherwise, though. He wasn't sure yet how long he's been asleep, but he's guessing that it's been a while. He pulls himself out of the cot and stretches, rubbing his eyes. He gives himself a few moments, waking up, and hears music playing through the speakers. That's different. He smirks idly, but lets it fall as he exits the sleeping quarters. As he heads toward the cockpit, he spots the piles of debris all around, as well as Juno working under the pilot console. The Inquisitor crosses his arms, looking at the growing pile of wires and metal on the ground with a vague sense of wonder. He opens his mouth to say something, then hears something else: Juno humming along with the music.

That changes his mind about his words really fast.

"How long have I been out, Juno?" he asks, moving to take his normal seat next to the pilot's chair, "And what are you working on down there?" He leans back in his seat, lacing his hands behind his head. "Whatever it is, there's a lot of broken wires and metal coming out from under there." He smiles a bit, though she can't see it from her position most likely.

He gives it a moment, then chuckles audibly. "You seem like you're in a good mood, by the way. I wonder why that might be." His tone is light and followed by another small laugh.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
A piece of durasteel housing barely misses Galen on its way to the scrap heap, clattering down from the rest of the pile. It finally comes to rest not far from his boot, spinning slightly on its axis.

"Ngah–" The sound is an awkward one as Juno looks over her shoulder, because she still has a flashlight in her mouth. Spitting it out and grimacing to stretch her jaw back into proper shape, she arches her brows. Galen's sudden and silent appearances used to surprise her, but years of working with him have taught her not to startle too badly, at least in most circumstances. He's the only one aside from his companion droid who would be on this ship, and Vader is hardly a stealth expert. "Long enough. I thought you were going to sleep through today, too. You looked so exhausted, I just didn't have the heart to kick you onto the floor to wake you up."

She gives a smirk of her own, reaching for the flashlight and settling it so it points into the open console. Bearing down on a stubborn piece of housing with both hands, she glances back over her shoulder, briefly. "I don't know. I was out for a while, too. Can't say how long, but long enough. I feel ready for anything. Even one of your famously unsalvageable messes in the line of duty."

"I should hope so. I'm replacing the interior. The pilot and copilot consoles are due for an upgrade, and they could use new navcomputer data, too. Maybe I can calculate those jumps manually–" An extremely impressive feat, and probably one none of her predecessors could ever do, "–but I like to have them. Multiversal jumps are tricky business."

That's probably an extreme understatement. Jumps through regular Galactic hyperspace are a nightmarishly complex function. One can only imagine what sort of horrors await in the field of multiversal astrometrics.

"Hmm. What can I say? The ship's running smoother than she's ever run, and I haven't had any surprises lately. I don't like surprises," she adds, with a pointed look over her shoulder, good cheer dropping momentarily. Surprises in their line of work are usually unpleasant. And potentially bloody. Also, occasionally deadly. The smile returns. "Looks like you're feeling better. I told you the cot would do you good, didn't I? I've no doubt you'd feel awful if you'd slept on the floor like you insisted."

Grinning, she turns back to her mechanics, tossing another mysterious durasteel chunk of something over her shoulder and onto the pile. It looks like she's gutting the entire console, but he can trust her to know exactly what she's doing. It'll work just like it did when she puts it back together again – at worst. More than likely it's going to be much better than it ever was. "Other than that, hmm, I don't know," she replies almost archly.

But not without reaching out and kicking his foot with her own reinforced boot, smirking, as though to say, 'You know perfectly well why, stupid.'

"Hand me that hydrospanner, will you? The number four. The big one. I've got to strip out the housing for these wires before I can start putting anything back in." There's a pause while she waits for the tool, twisting slightly so she can brace against an elbow and look up at him. Her good cheer wavers, just slightly; though so subtly only he might even notice. "Have you heard from Lord Vader?"

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
As the piece of metal slides toward him, Galen flicks his wrist and adds it to the piles behind them. "Careful now," he says, chuckling as she emerges with a flashlight clutched in her teeth. She lets it go and sets it into the metal, and Galen crosses his arms again as she mentions that he's been out for a long while. "Huh. Guess I was a bit more tired than I thought, huh? Not you, though. So full of energy. Humming, musical, working energy," he adds, shaking his head idly. "How long have you been at this little project today, then?" he says, "I want to know if I have enough time to go out and get myself into one of my signature messes before you finish is all." He offers a bit of a sarcastic smirk, then leans back in his seat.

He's not a mechanic, so Juno is a blessing for keeping the Shadow running. He does like to watch her work, though. He doesn't understand all of what she says, but he learns bits and pieces. Plus he gets to be near her and that puts him at some measure of ease.

He rolls his shoulders, nodding. "It beats a cave floor, that's for sure. I think I could've rested on the floor, but fine, I'll give you that one. You look like you rested well too, so I think I deserve points for the compromise." He taps his boot idly to the rhythm of the music playing around them, watching Juno wrenching another piece of durasteel out of the console and adding it to the pile. "What sort of upgrades do you have in mind?" he asks, before she nudges his foot with her own. He knows why she's in a good mood. He's in one for the same reason, though he tries to keep it a little more guarded. However, he leans in to study her work, floating the requested hydrospanner into his hand and passing it to her.

He notices a small flux even before she asks, and he smiles a bit serenely and shakes his head. "No word yet. I think he's probably busy with other Imperial business."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"You'd be surprised what someone can accomplish with combat training, alternating between adrenaline and short naps." Juno rolls one shoulder in a shrug, leaning back for a moment to crack her neck with a satisfying pop. "Part of a TIE Fighter pilot's training is learning how to do that, and how to function on minimal sleep. We had to be ready for a sortie at any time."

Humming? She must not have noticed she was, for she flushes a little and clears her throat, glancing away. "What? Oh. An hour, maybe two. Sometimes I lose track of the time when I'm this deep into something." She sighs, reaching up to rub the side of her face and clear pale, almost white-gold hair from her eyes. "Well, in fairness, you're very good at getting into your signature messes. It's the getting out that takes time." She smirks, faintly. "I don't recommend trying it until the ship's back up and running, though, or you'll have no support from me."

Credit for the compromise? Juno snorts, good-naturedly. "Oh, lay off it. I could have kicked back in the pilot's seat and gotten just as much rest. I've done it before." She didn't really mind, though, and the compromise was more comfortable than the pilot's chair would've been. "I'll have to install something less unforgiving, though. I think the pilot's chair might have been more comfortable after all."

"If we do that again, though, we're going to have to be careful," she adds, more softly. "No one can find out about us. Not the Empire, not the Confederacy. Officially, I'm your pilot, nothing more. Every Inquisitor has enemies." There's a reason she never calls him by his actual name outside the confines of the ship. Still, they've been safe this long, and she's not as concerned as anyone else might be in such a dangerous situation.

Glancing over her shoulder, she takes the hydrospanner offered. "Thanks." All business once more, but that's just because her work also happens to be her hobby, and he asked her a direct question about it. Starships are her first love.

"An overhaul of the console systems. It'll keep the ship out for a few more days, but it's worth it. She'll respond faster, and if you pilot her, she'll navigate more efficiently. Actually calculating the hyperspace jumps won't take as long."

"I suppose they're busy trying to figure out what's happened to Shaak Ti." She tosses her hydrospanner aside, leaning her head back against the pilot's seat and baring the pale line of her throat. No scars there, thankfully; but she looks tired. It'll take a few more days until she's at a hundred percent again. In his absence, she must've been working hard. "I'm sure we'll know once she's been located again. At least we've got a chance to rest, in the meantime. I guess we both need it."

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen shakes his head. He's been trained to do some rather crazy things as well. Mostly to not sleep in pursuit of targets, no matter how long that may be. But still... He just shrugs. "Fair enough. I'm just glad I got the Rogue Shadow and not some modified TIE fighter. Flying death traps." He shakes his head again. "The body is capable of taking a lot of punishment, as is the mind, so I guess I understand that to some degree." After all, training with Vader isn't exactly a picnic on a sunny day. His body has been pushed to its absolute limits in many ways.

He leans back in his seat. "Alright, I guess I'll keep my nose clean for the time being," he says, "Won't do to get lost on some planet." He laces his hands behind his head, nodding a bit. "I know," he says, "I'm not advertising this, just for that reason." Plus a few he doesn't voice, such as how Vader would use what he and Juno share against the both of them. He keeps that in the back of his mind, allowing it to be swallowed by his missions to keep from letting it overwhelm him. "I'll request something bigger. I rolled off that damn thing for all they know." He chuckles slightly, then listens to what she's doing to the ship. He nods approvingly, understanding the key points of the upgrade. "Perfect," he says.

It might be necessary, if he feels like something might be too risky to bring her along, to pilot the ship himself, or having PROXY do so. Having more intuitive controls might help a great deal in that regard.

"Seriously," he says, "How many hours have you been working on the Shadow recently? You still look exhausted."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"Those little durasteel coffins do alright, if you know how to handle them. Unfortunately, most flight instructors never bother to teach the specifics, or the little tricks that mean the difference between life and death." Juno gestures languidly with a hand, pulling herself up from the deck plating and slumping into the pilot's chair. "I bothered to learn them myself, because I'm not particularly suicidal."

She's also smarter than the average stormtrooper, so there's that. To his comment on sleep, she shrugs, reaching down to adjust the seat and lean back more comfortably. "We're capable of pushing ourselves harder than we think we are. Oh, you pay for it sooner or later, usually. Everyone does. That upper threshold is more generous than we think it is, though."

"Good. You know, if you get yourself in over your head too much, I'm not above letting you cool your heels with an angry mob on your six." A threat from anybody else, but the threat is given too languidly to carry any real fire. Juno's not serious about it. Or is she? "Do that. A proper bunk would be nice. I've slept on that during hyperspace jumps, once I've put the ship on auto, and it's not comfortable for one person. I think it was more of an afterthought."

Lurching forward, she runs her fingers through her hair, not quite yawning as she looks over the mess of the pilot-side console. She stays that way for a moment or two before straightening.

He asks her how long, then, and she doesn't bother hiding her yawn.

"I don't know. I lost count. It's all mandatory work, though, and you'll thank me for it later when we're hot on the trail of the next Jedi Master or Confederate work." Kicking back in her chair, she kicks her boots up on the gutted console, folding her hands over her stomach and leaning her head back against the seat's headrest. "Mmm. I'll take a break when I'm finished. These upgrades weren't handed down by Lord Vader, but it was high enough that I'd rather not ignore them... but a few minutes won't hurt."

She lets her eyes drift closed for a few minutes; and just when it seems like she might have fallen asleep, she speaks to the silent cockpit.

"Where's PROXY, anyway?" An eye cracks open; her brow furrows in mild annoyance. "I swear, if he tries to start something with you in my cockpit, I'm going to space him. I don't care what you two do in the rest of the ship, but keep your little murder-games out of my cockpit." Hers? Damn straight, as long as she's aboard the Rogue Shadow.

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen shakes his head again. "Not going to risk flying those," he says, "I'd rather take my chances in open space." At least there'd be a body if he crashed, and any sort of Jedi Master could likely crush him inside one anyway. Not to mention he doesn't like flying himself anyway, since that means Juno isn't around and PROXY is probably trying to kill him. The life of this particular Inquisitor is tough.

"That's true," he says, "And occasionally that's necessary for the Empire. The Confederacy too, I'm sure. I don't really remember much considering how long I've been out." He turns to look at Juno, smirking slightly. "If I was in an angry mob, you'd have to realize that most of them are going to come out worse than me, so that's the reason you wouldn't help," he says, "Otherwise it wouldn't be fair. I know that's what you're thinking." He leans back again, floating the piles of debris behind him toward the hatch. He considers just dumping them out there, but decides against it. He just manages the piles and sets them near the hatch, clearing up the area without a second thought. "It's never been comfortable, but I don't normally sleep on the Shadow, so I never really thought about it. I meditate more than sleep." Like she didn't know that already. He's usually in his private chamber, floating items around the room, disassembling and reassembling his lightsaber, or fending off a PROXY attack.

"So way too long is the answer," he says, rolling his eyes a bit. He cracks his knuckles idly, rolling his neck and popping it as well. "I know it needs to be done, so I'm not going to say anything more about your methods." He watches her rest out of the corner of his eye, enjoying the small moment of peace they were in. She breaks it, though, and it's almost as though on cue that there's a knock of metal on metal on the hull. "Master, I have accomplished the task you set for me," PROXY's voice cuts into the ship. "I did not find any usable information, but I have exhausted all outgoing and incoming transmissions in the area you were last in." Galen chuckles slightly. "Right on time as always, PROXY. Good work."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"Coward." She grins when she says it, which suggests Juno isn't actually serious about that. Although he hasn't done any particular things that suggest bravery, it takes courage to live on the precipice between the Dark Side and something greater. Lack of total commitment to the Dark Side is not something easily hidden from its own.

She glances over her shoulder, arching a brow just slightly at his smirk. "I suppose you've done more Inquisitorial work than Confederate work. All you really need to know is 'nothing ever goes according to plan.' I'll tell you about the time a Union Elite carved a hole through the Rogue Shadow's cockpit, once."

"No, actually, I'm thinking that sooner or later the sheer numbers would wear you down, and then where would you be? Not on the Rogue Shadow's entry ramp, that's where," Juno points out. "Cooling your heels. And maybe bleeding. Oh," she sighs, "I suppose not. Then I'd just have to clean up the mess..."

She glances back, watching with disinterest as he sweeps away the junk with the Force. That must be a handy talent to have when it comes to ship maintenance. "I already knew that," she points out wryly. "And if I didn't, I'd have to be blind not to see the signs of insomnia. The shadows under your eyes are just as bad as mine, you know."

"Oh." She shuts her eyes again, leaning back in her chair. "Right there," she finishes lamely, answering her own question as to where PROXY went. "Don't let him touch any of this, will you? I know where I'm at, and I don't want anything getting obfuscated by him mucking about in it."

It's hard to relax with PROXY in the area, though. With a sigh, Juno straightens, lurching forward so she can slide off the seat and back into the console, scooping up a hydrospanner as she does.

There comes the cacaphony of a console being torn apart from the inside as she continues.

"Frown all you want. I know what I'm doing, and the ship's going to be better for it." Her voice is a little muffled as she twists to stick her head into the console, checking her progress with a flashlight. "I seem to remember you were growling and snarling the first time I took the liberty of improving the Rogue Shadow's performance for you, too. Stubborn," she sighs. "How about this? After I've finished all the work, here, we'll go investigate that planet you'd spotted. Maybe you might find a new toy there for your lightsaber, hmmm?"

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen rolls his eyes. "Call me what you will," he snarks back, his tone upbeat. A lot of the things he does require physical bravery, and some require emotional bravery. She knows all that, though, and so he just smirks at her instead. He straightens up, hand moving toward his lightsaber. It jumps into his hand, and he keeps it ready as he moves toward the hatch. He cracks it open and PROXY walks in, staring around before walking immediately toward the control panels. "PROXY, stay away from there," Galen says, "Juno's got a system going and she's going to be working solo on this one." The droid turns to Galen and nods. "Affirmative, Master. I decided not to attack you blindly today. I doubt the Confederacy would appreciate having you dead so soon after your return, so you get a little bit of a rest."

Galen shakes his head. "Thanks, PROXY," he says, his voice laced with sarcasm. He glances over toward Juno, then back to PROXY. "Since you're not attacking me, how about you haul all this scrap out of here. Just outside the ship will be fine." The droid says nothing, just going and picking up the metal as Juno leaps back into her work. He approaches, kneeling next to her. "Do what you need to," he says, "You've proven capable of upgrades in the past. I'm not going to doubt you now." At mention of the planet he had talked about, he smirks. "Sure," he says, brushing the side of his lightsaber a bit. "Sounds like a good idea. I might be able to get an upper hand against the Jedi."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"I'm so glad I have your permission," Juno counters, even as she descends into the console for another round of demolitions. "Not that I actually need it. Let's not forget whose life rests in whose hands when it's time to go to your next destination, hmm?"

She glances over her shoulder, watching as PROXY cheerfully announces himself and moves on to start chipping away at the pile of scrap. Well, most of that is pretty useless, but...

"Leave it just outside the ship," she agrees, to PROXY. "I want to go through that before it'd scrapped. Some of that can be reused; if not on the Rogue Shadow, than on another project of mine."

She's commonly fiddling with scrap when she isn't called to be Starkiller's space taxi driver. In fact, one of her projects aboard the Empirical's hangars, recently moved to the next hangar over from the Rogue Shadow aboard the Citadel, is an unfinished podracer. Vader had tasked her with building something suitable to the history of Tattooine as a show of engineering competency, and so she'd known immediately what to do, being a casual fan of the sport.

Definitely drawing the line if he asks her to pilot it, though. Only one human has ever managed to do that without exploding, and while she can't for the life of her think of who – none of the records are ever clear about it – they must surely have had the Force or overclocked systems or some sort of technomagical cheatery helping them do it.

Ducking down, she grabs a piece of scrap and hucks it over her shoulder, conveniently just missing Galen.

"I might as well try to teach you something while you're down here." That's all the warning Galen gets before she reaches up to seize his shirt front, giving a surprisingly strong tug to get him to look closer at the consle. "Look. See that bank of relays there? Those are involved in the navcomputer system. Here's an important tidbit: The actual navcomputer is in the aft of the ship, near the cargo bay, but if something happens to the pilot's console, it'll screw the whole system up. In fact, all of the major systems tie into both of these consoles; both yours and mine. You don't ever want anybody you don't trust in the cockpit... but I suppose you already knew that part, anyway." She points with the hydrospanner to another bank of mechanical parts. "Those are connected to the sensor arrays; mainly to speed up processing and relay time to the pilot's console."

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen rolls his eyes again. "You know, you could go back to piloting TIEs if you want," he retorts, "This is still MY ship after all." There's no malice in his voice. It's an empty bluff and they both know it. It's pretty much Juno's at this point, so long as she ferries him where he needs to go when he needs it. Other than that, she uses the ship how she likes. "I haven't died yet you know," he adds, "And I'm getting good at watching my own back." His head cocks to one side as she slings another piece of metal out of the panel, watching it sail past before catching it and floating it to the pile. "I don't know what you're gonna do with all this junk, but I'm sure it's something interesting."

The Inquisitor is pulled closer to the panel by the fiery pilot, and he focuses his eyes on where she points. He attempts to keep up with her explanation, but he's no tech genius. He has learned a little bit from watching Juno work, but not enough that he's able to keep up with all of her technobabble. He does catch the key points though. "Why's the computer all the way back there if it can be sabotaged from the panels?" he asks, genuinely showing curiousity. "I try to keep the unsavory types out of here, but it's good to know that if I fail and someone gets in here, they can screw the entire ship up. I'm pretty sure someone would have to kill me to get here." Unless it was Vader or the Emperor, then they'd just come aboard anyway. He stares at the console guts, then shakes his head. "I know enough to fly it and do basic repairs, but this is pretty far out of my knowledge. Guess I should learn, though."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"I could go back to piloting TIEs, but I won't." Juno's response is inordinately cheerful. "We both know that. I can pilot them, and I even do it for Confederate operations on occasion, but only an idiot would trade in an opportunity to pilot a ship like the Rogue Shadow for one of those tin cans."

She listens to his bluff with all due seriousness, although there's a hint of mirth in those blue eyes. Eventually, she can't help her grin. "Whatever you say, Inquisitor," she murmurs, giving his shirt another tug to focus his attention on the console.

"Mass, that's why. The core takes up a fair amount of space, considering the amount of data it's expected to process on a regular basis." She points to some fiddly-bit inside. "I've taken the liberty of installing redundancies, so that's no longer an issue. It should improve processing time, too. Not that it was slow to begin with."

She sighs, half-heartedly chucking him on the arm. "Yes, you should learn it; weren't you just reiterating that it's your ship? You should be able to take her apart and put her together again, if that's the case. Not that you can. But you should. I knew how to strip my TIE Fighter to its components, and I'm confident I could do the same with the Rogue Shadow." Not that it was necessarily representative of most pilots, or normal, but that's the way she looks at it. It's a pride of professionality, or something like it. "Speaking of, I should teach you a few tricks about flying her, too."

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen chuckles. "Good. I'd hate to have a new pilot assigned at this point," he says, "You've flown TIEs for the Confederacy? Instead of the Shadow? Why would you do that?" He tilts his head slightly, then shrugs. The Rogue Shadow must have been down for repairs, he guessed. However, he wasn't sure and figured it would give them more to discuss. As Juno explains why the computer is off-site, he nods. "Okay, that makes sense. I guess it would be hard to fly if there was a massive computer up here," he says, watching with interest. He shrugs his shoulders. "I don't have time to learn about this most of the time, you know?" he asks, "But it is fairly interesting."

He rolls his eyes. "That's why I have you and Imperial engineers to tear the ship apart and rebuild it. I wouldn't want to deny you the pleasure, after all." He smirks as she chucks him on the arm, chuckling a bit. "Maybe in time I'll learn how to do that, but just one step at a time for now." He was smart, but not about engineering yet. Taking apart and reassembling the entire Rogue Shadow seemed like a tall order, but he has no doubt that Juno could easily do it. Perhaps, in time, he would be able to as well.

"Flight tips, huh? What sort of techniques do you have in mind?"

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"You were sick of training pilots years ago, or so you introduced yourself to me. I can't imagine it's gotten any better," Juno points out. "For ground support. I haven't done it for quite some time, lately; in most cases, I'm authorised to take the Rogue Shadow for extraction or delivery."

She shrugs, leaning forward and prodding at the inside of the hollowed console. "It's not just mass, either. Heat's a concern. I actually adjust the temperature controls and ensure that the cockpit is usually cooler than the rest of the ship. It helps me keep my head. A drowsing pilot is a dead pilot. A computer core generates a lot of heat, and it's easier to manage when it's in a more centralised location."

"Oh, it would be a pleasure." Juno leans back, rubbing her hands together in undisguised anticipation. "I already know what it looks like, by this point. I'm familiar with all the major systems and subsystems. Still, it's no substitute for rolling up my sleeves and getting in there myself. It's an impressive ship. Beyond impressive."

Twisting, she leans against Galen, since he's so conveniently right there, and considerably more comfortable than the cold chair.

"Alright, then. We'll just stick with piloting, for now. The basics. Takeoffs, landings..." She holds up a hand to forestall any complaint. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but you'd be surprised how difficult it can be to land a starship. We can run a few simulations in the Field of Trials, or using the ship's computer, and I can teach you what it's like to fly under pressure, in and out of a hot zone like I do."

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen smirks. "I'm more sick of having to drag bodies off my ship," he says quietly, looking deadly serious for a moment before he shakes his head. "Yeah, I don't want to have to train another pilot, so your job security is assured as far as we go." He smiles. There's more to it than business, of course, but they both know that well enough. As she mentions that she keeps the cockpit colder than the rest of the ship, he blinks. "That's why it's always so cold in here? I guess that makes sense. I just thought you got hot easily, wearing that jacket all the time," he notes, smirking again, "Good thing I left the temp controls alone, huh?" He kept his room a different temperature from the rest of the ship as well, but on the higher end. It helped him relax during his meditation sessions, allowing his mind to focus on the Force.

She leans against him and he smiles a bit, acting as a stable platform for her. She has learned a little about him it seems, as he opens his mouth to retort as soon as she holds her finger up. He frowns a bit, but he knows she has a point. He may be able to fly, but he's no expert. His training was in... other matters. "Alright, that seems fair. I suppose I should know how to utilitze the Shadow to its fullest."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"I can understand that." Juno's response is quiet and thoughtful. Demotion from the Imperial ranks tends to carry a certain finality. Retiring from a position like her current one has exactly the same connotations; the only retirement from a special Inquisitorial assignment like this would be staring down the muzzle of a blaster. "After the first one, I imagine it must have gotten..."

She doesn't know what word to use, and her vaguely troubled expression suggests that. Instead of trying to rationalise such an uncomfortable subject, she dismisses it with a shake of her head.

"I'll let you in on a little secret. I'm actually cold most of the time, even with the uniform jacket." Juno taps at her forearm. "There's a reason I don't usually eschew the jacket, you know. Part of it is the instrumentation. I prefer to keep the temperatures low outside of the commons, the sleeping quarters, and your training room. I'd rather not risk unnecessary damage. Granted, when either the sublights or the hyperdrive are running, it keeps the ship from getting too cold. The stealth system, especially. There's a reason that can't run for too long at a time, and the reason is 'heat.'"

She chuckles when he frowns at her forestall, the sound probably felt by him as much as heard, with the way she leans on him. One hand rises to clear some of her hair from her face; when she brings her arm back down, she leans it over his knee, resting her head on her arm. A break is nice; it's not like they're going to be called off to fly anyway.

"Mmhm. You didn't train to do any of this, and I'm willing to bet credits you probably had PROXY cheat and do the landing and the taking off for you." A forefinger pokes him in the leg. "Since PROXY's no expert, I'll teach you myself, just in case it happens that you need to take the controls. Say I need to conduct some repairs while you fly the ship, for example."

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen shakes his head. "It was just part of the job is all," he says, relaxing a bit against Juno. "No need to worry about it, it won't happen again." He'd make sure of that. Keeping things with Juno under wraps protected them both, of course, and that was the best he could do. He was still an Imperial soldier, after all, and would carry out his missions without question. Juno had to be safe while he did so, though. He could physically protect her by taking out anti-air forces on missions, but if his masters found out...

He shakes his head, then falls silent as she mentions she's cold all the time while flying, even through her jacket. He frowns a bit at this, closing his eyes. "The things we do out of necessity," he says quietly, "Maybe you should try a different technique to stay awake, but I guess that's what you're used to." He shrugs against her. He certainly felt pretty warm right now, and he hoped she did too. "I guess that makes sense. Stealth is good, but a giant fireball isn't very stealthy."

He pats the hand that she pokes lightly, then chuckles against her. "I won't take that bet, because you're right. PROXY is able to do some pretty incredible things. But you're right, he's no master. I'll learn what I can."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"I suppose it's also the lack of sleep, too." Juno prods half-heartedly at the hydrospanner on the metal deck, but she doesn't bother picking it up or prodding at the eviscerated console. She's not quite alert enough to do work on the ship at this point, and relaxing for a moment, especially in the present company, means her ever-present exhaustion is slowly catching up with her. "That'll do it. Circulation."

Anti-air measures would be reasonable enough, and didn't necessarily need to be damning in and of themselves. Indeed, one could say the Inquisitor was protecting his investment in his ship. The Rogue Shadow is a unique vessel; one that can't be easily recreated if anything were to happen to it, and one whose blueprints most assuredly aren't hanging around an Imperial database anywhere.

She shrugs, but only one shoulder; the one that isn't immediately leaning against the Inquisitor. "Maybe. This is what I'm used to. Cold keeps me alert, especially under pressure, and I don't always notice it. In fact, I don't when I'm flying. The heat of the engines is enough to balance it out. Most of the time, anyway." She glances back, regarding the cockpit for a few seconds, in disarray as it is.

"No, a giant fireball isn't very stealthy. Neither is a lightsaber. At least not in your hands. If PROXY's a pilot, you're the king of stealth." She chuckles, even as he pats at her hand. She lets him. "Maybe I can teach you a thing or two about stealth, too. I've had my fair share of ground operations in the Confederacy. If you know how to knock out a building's power infrastructure, it's child's play..."

She might have intended to say more, and in fact she most definitely intended to say more. But the pilot doesn't answer. Instead, she leans against him a little more comfortably, mumbling something quiet.

If he looks down, he'll note she's fallen asleep against him; some of her hair's fallen across her face, fluttering faintly with every breath.

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen chuckles a bit. He's wide awake. Being able to get a full night's rest has allowed him to regain his full faculties. However, he had been able to catch catnaps here and there on his mission, and he had guessed that she had been neglecting even those for some time. So when he senses her relaxing, he doesn't let it detract from the conversation. It's distracted her into resting a bit more, so he keeps it up. "Hey, if the cold works for you, go ahead and go for it. Maybe some heavier music might be in order for those more tense rescue missions though." The classical-esque music piped through the ship was good and all, but its effects on her were clear to see.

He chuckles again. "Well in that case, I'm a natural invisible agent," he retorts. He can feel her relaxing even more, and it's no surprise to him when her next words come out mumbled. He glances over his shoulder, seeing her sleeping face on his shoulder and smiling softly. He lifts a hand, and begins closing the door with the Force.

"Go back to the Confederate radio relays and see if any new info is there," he calls, before the hatch snaps shut on the killer droid.