4028/Cloud City Rendezvous

Cloud City Rendezvous
Date of Scene:	19 April 2016
Location:	Faraway Galaxy <FG>
Synopsis:	Juno Eclipse meets with Alexis Maaka in Cloud City, Bespin, to catch Maaka up on the Imperial state of affairs.
Cast of Characters:	428, 571

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Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Cloud City is a marvel of engineering suspended sixty thousand kilometers over the core of the gas giant Bespin. Powered by repulsorlift engines and tractor beam generators, the uppermost levels are a tourist destination, while the lower levels sport Cloud City's seedy underbelly, including establishments like the Vapour Room, an industrial bar frequented mostly by the workers that maintain the city's engineering.

The coordinates that were transmitted by encrypted channel to Alexis Maaka led, eventually, to Cloud City -- but not the seedy underbelly. It leads to the nice touristy location; a public plaza above the clouds, with a nice outdoor bar serving drinks to the travellers gawking at the view.

Juno isn't gawking at the view; she's flopped at a table, head pillowed on her arms, seemingly asleep. She has a glass of what looks like Corellian whisky in front of her, but she hasn't touched it.

Sitting beside her and presumably keeping watch over her is a curious-looking droid, almost skeletal in its countenance; yellow photoreceptors watching closely anybody that gets too close.

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
    Despite the odd glance at the amazonian cyborg, Maaka doesn't seem to really notice much in the way of prodding as she heads towards the bar Juno had picked out. She's able to navigate through a busy area, and people are quick to avoid getting in the way of a tall, yellow-eyed mercenary type woman with a bulletproof coat trailing behind her.

    She may be a bit impressed with Cloud City. It's picturesque to see a city in the clouds, especially one based on a gas giant like Bespin. From what she gathers, the main export from this city happens to be a sort of gas that's popular across the galaxy, among other trade deals its new, charismatic Administrator has managed to score since making office.

    She'd be more fixated on the view had she not been here for specific purposes, and Juno is sighted after the cyborg searches for a little bit. Assuming there's not a no-smoking sign of some sort to be seen, Maaka lights up a cigar, puffing smoke gently before speaking, "Eclipse." Her tone is gentle enough to not jar the poor pilot from sleep, if she is asleep, and she just as gently nudges the table to rouse Juno, keeping an eye on her droid accomplice just to be sure.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"Ah, there you are." It isn't Juno who answers but the droid, his voice ubiquitously polite. His yellow photoreceptors flicker in time to his voice, slightly tinny like most droids'. "Captain Eclipse informed me that you would be arriving soon, although we were not expecting you--"

Beside him, the pilot's right hand twitches. It's clear she's really asleep and not just feigning; there are shadows under her eyes.

She's not here in Cloud City, at least not at the moment. She's high over a distant, snowy planet; there are ion engines screaming beneath her, and her hands are clenched over the controls of her TIE fighter.

She can smell and taste the tinny recycled air of her enclosed flight suit, and she can hear the cockpit blaring alarms at her. It had come down to the last two Rebel starfighters of their squadron, and her own last TIE fighter. One of them wasn't going to leave this battlefield. Engines scream as they death-dance through the air, and she loses all sense of time; one with the controls of her starfighter.

Those Rebels won't leave. She'll shoot them down, even though it will mean crashing her already-compromised TIE fighter, but she's gotten good at setting them down over the years without killing herself. Not bad, considering they were never meant to land--

"--to arrive so soon." The droid doesn't shrug, but his tone suggests he might if he were more familiar with the gesture. "So sorry. I will wake Captain Eclipse."

"You don't need to," the pilot grunts, slowly straightening her head and grimacing; swiping an arm across her face. She's not wearing her Imperial blacks or her 'Rebel' clothes, but more mundane fare, something nondescript enough in earth tones that most people wouldn't look twice at her. Her white-gold hair has been left down to further obfuscate her identity -- she'd be pretty if she weren't so visibly exhausted. "I'm awake."

"Maaka," she adds, voice still a little rough, nodding at the cyborg. "Hve a seat. Drinks are on me, and if you're hungry, the food here isn't half bad."

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
    Maaka's used to protocol droids by now, at least the idea of them. She's seen androids back home being used for similar purposes be they business based or domestic in nature, so she isn't too uncomfortable with Proxy. Maaka even grins briefly as she takes the cigar in her hand, exhaling a small puff of smoke before nudging a seat to take.

    She waits politely for Juno to awaken before she sits, and it's clear Juno's been visibly exhausted thanks to her usual rebel operation since cutting ties with the Empire. Even before, she looked pretty damn haggard time to time, or at least sounded like it on the radio. It's kind of surreal, she's only met Juno face to face once before, the rest of their interactions amounted to discussing work over comms, or brief battle chatter while Juno was calling targets from above, and Maaka was ground side taking out hostiles with military precision and weaponry that would give even the Empire pause.

    She sits at last, when Juno stirs and speaks, nodding as she takes a glass. "Might as well, I haven't had much chance to dine on anything that wasn't either MREs or noodles for a good while." She opts for what she assumes is some sort of poultry based dish with salad, water too, but only to keep herself from enjoying the liquor /too/ much. "Interesting choice to meet, by the way."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Though superficially similar to a lot of common protocol droids, none of the others seem to be quite like this one. He's more skeletal, with a slightly different head and body, and he doesn't seem to move in such a stilted manner as others. He must be some kind of custom job, but he still has the ingrained politeness of any other droid.

Rubbing at her face, Juno brushes away the last vestiges of sleep and forces herself to wake up and focus. It's much more tempting to go back to the half-dream, half-memory of a dogfight over some snowy planet in the back end of nowhere. A swig of that whisky doesn't hurt.

"Nothing wrong with noodles. I know a good stand in Malastare that makes the best pasha noodles in the galaxy. Spices so hot you'll taste them in your sleep." Juno half-grins, before choosing a dish along similar lines for herself. "It was this or the Vapour Room, and I didn't feel like the Vapour Room. I don't have the heart to shoot anybody over a barroom brawl today, and that might attract more attention than being out in the light of day, you know? I can eat the expense; I've been doing salvage on the side to earn a few extra credits."

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
    It's clear to Maaka on second inspection as a blue plated protocol unit passes by on errands how different and unusual Proxy is. He's without a doubt unique, or at least a very expensive model customized for specific purposes.

    She pours herself a glass of whiskey when Juno takes a swig, sipping after draping her coat over her seat. "I'll have to check it out another time, then." She smiles faintly as she sits back, awaiting their dinner. "Yeah, I run salvage ops every now and then when the creds are low and I need to keep out of the spotlight. Us mercenaries can't always go out and shoot things as much as it might sound appealing." Shrug. She rests her cigar on a convenient ashtray, luckily it's not as much a hazard as one would expect, thanks to filters anyways.

    "So how've you been, Juno? Seems like every time we look away something monumental happens to at least one of us. Guess that's just the way things are sometimes..."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
The droid seems content to fall silent, though his photoreceptors don't dim. He's watching the crowd, and his servomotors make quiet noises every time he turns to look at and watch somebody pass by. Apparently he had been asked to stand sentry duty ahead of time, leaving Juno free to deal with the cyborg mercenary without having to spend her time looking over her shoulder.

"Eventually. Malastare is ostensibly Imperial territory, but it's more like a mishmash of neutral ground. The Imperial garrison doesn't really do much to keep order, there, and it's shaky enough that even I don't mind visiting it once in a while." Her voice drops. "There are also Rebel contacts there. They still don't trust me, but I can stay informed through places like that."

That high gravity is miserable, though.

"I've been better. I've been worse." The pilot shrugs, eyes half-closing. Her tone drops when she continues, as though suspicious of her voice carrying too far. "I wouldn't mind sleeping again, but there's no rest for the weary or the wicked, you know. I have a few irons in the fire, and most of them involve a lot of catharsis against the Empire. Tomorrow we're going to hit a base on Tatooine. I want information on where the next multiversal detachment of the Imperial fleet is going, because we're going to take out that fleet when we have an opportunity."

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
    Sipping her whiskey again, Maaka nods briefly again. "Sounds like a place we could slip in and out of." Her voice goes low and quiet as she leans forwards, "Besides, if nothing else it sounds like bribing a few Imps won't be too much if the ones posted there are this lax. Hope they take off-world creeds." Bribing an officer of a fascist government? Such a scoundrel move!

    In any case, Maaka gets to business as Juno elaborates Tatooine. From what she's dug up since Juno offered a meeting over drinks, the planet sounds like an enormous desert sandbox with port towns here and there, but otherwise little of note. It's popular for the unsavory types; slavers, mercenaries, drug dealers, smugglers, gangsters, and other unfriendly sorts call the planet home, or at least close to it. The presence of an Imperial garrison is curious, but given how they've expanded across this galaxy and ones similar to it, it's hard to imagine they wouldn't have eyes and ears posted, even if it amounts to the corrupt and inept.

    "What do we know about the base itself? Dig anything up on the CO by chance?" She keeps her low tone, careful to avoid getting this operation blown before it even begins.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"That's the idea," Juno agrees, settling as the food is brought in. She punctuates her statement by stabbing at a choice cut of meat with her fork, waving it faintly for emphasis. "We go in, we get what we're after, and we get out of there before anyone notices it's gone. I don't have the numbers or the ability to hold off a full Imperial response to attack."

"If they've got so much as a whiff of suspicion that I'm involved in stirring up trouble, you can be sure there's going to be an Imperial II-class Star Destroyer firing on their heads, and I don't think they'll care about glassing Mos Eisley if it means making a public example of Rebel scum like me." Juno takes a moment to enjoy her entree. She can't remember the last time she had food that didn't come out of a box, can, or ration pouch. "Not that they necessarily care it's me. I doubt I'm still on the radars too much, these days. It's the principle of somebody daring to defy Imperial authority."

She shrugs when Maaka mentions bribing the officials. It's a viable enough strategy, and if she were in Maaka's position, it's one of the strategies she'd be giving some weight to. "Just be careful. Not all of them are corrupt or inept just because they're on Tatooine. Some of those poor, lost souls genuinely believe the nonsense they're told." Juno shrugs, taking a drink. "I used to."

Reaching into her pocket, she produces a small data cylinder, which she passes over to the cyborg. "You'll find basic specs on this. It's a map of the city, but it also includes partial mapping of the Imperial base. Some of the buildings were probably repurposed by the Empire, rather than building new ones, so that gives us some idea of things."

"I've never been there before, though, so I'd study up on that." She grins, sourly. "I make a point of avoiding Tatooine unless I need choice salvage. I hate desert planets. And Tatooine is a bloody /binary/." Twice the suns for twice the fun! "I only set foot on there if I'm really and truly desperate for parts for the Rogue Shadow, or if I need something for a podracer. Podracing is big, there. I'm sure we can work that in somehow. The timing's not right for the Boonta Eve Classic, but there are always smaller circuits being run on the Boonta Eve course."

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
    "I know the feeling. Imps don't seem too sentimental unless it's about their own propaganda, sounds familiar alright." Juno's whole situation just reminds Maaka of her own first few days on the run from the Izunagi, fresh in Hong Kong and looking to make her start as an independent operative of sorts.

    Taking the data cylinder and pocketing it, Maaka drums her fingers on the table quietly. "Yeah. Only suggesting is all. I've had it backfire on me before, not a strategy I'd use lightly anyways."

    She takes another puff on her cigar, smirking briefly as Juno elaborates on Tatooine's suns. A planet like that sounds like a nightmare for most people, but Maaka isn't most people. Even taking her bodymods out of the equation, she's got her STALKER gear which provides its own coolant and heating system for the wearer. She does appreciate the warning, however. It's easy to get too confident, but Maaka's done desert ops before.

    "Podracing, huh? Can't say I've heard of it before. Popular sport out in this part of the galaxy, is it?"

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"They tend to stick to their own," Juno says. In some ways, they can't really be faulted for that. In other ways, it's a pretty stupid world view to perpetuate; one that's done untold damage throughout the galaxy for its short-sighted ignorance. "Seems to be a common philosophy on a lot of troubled worlds."

The pilot shrugs and takes another stab of choice cut, savouring it as she does. She hasn't had a meal like this for quite a while, and she's not sure when the next one's going to come, or from where.

Eyeing the cyborg, she scowls. "Yeah, yeah. Smirk all you want. It's going to be hot, and it's going to be uncomfortable, and you're going to have sand in your everything before it's all through." Ah. Podracing. A happier subject, at least for her. "Imagine, if you will, a small repulsorcraft hurtling down a smoothed track at seven hundred kilometers an hour. Factor in a lot of different alien species vying for the prize purse, lots of sabotage, the Hutt Cartel, and then you've got podracing."

She reaches into her pocket, rummaging around for a small datapad, which she puts down on the table and flicks on with a gesture. Flicking through the holonews feeds, she finally settles on what looks like a broadcast from a watery world, which shows a track that twists through a sunken city -- Aquilaris. Each little repulsorcraft has two engines, drawing the cockpit like a chariot, and brilliant energy binders that keep the three units together. "Podracing. And I wouldn't bet on number five. Looks like he's going to--" A bright explosion blossoms up from the news feed, and the pilot grimaces. "Amateur. You don't take a turn like that from that far on the outside..."

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
    Poking her own cut of meat, Maaka takes a break from smoking to actually eat and get the taste of cigar out of her mouth. Probably not the best idea to eat while smoking, in hindsight, so she stubs out the half-finished cigar and lets it smolder as she enjoys her meal. "You're not wrong. I've seen it on the other end of he spectrum back home, I used to work for a multi-corp that more or less owned a good chunk of the planet, the Southeast Pacific to be exact. You had the true believers, but then there's those who just wanted to make a less than honest buck. Not much better than the Empire, just on another end of the spectrum when it comes to scumbags. Instead of fascists and faceless soldiers, you get mercenaries and corporate pricks who profit off suffering." Tch. Munch munch. Best she just eat before she goes too far and raises some eyebrows.

    Her golden eyes whirr a bit as she eyes the holographic image of pods racing. Now she remembers seeing this stuff before, and as Maaka eyes Juno's reaction to the crash, she gives the pilot an amused look. "Don't tell me you're considering getting involved, are you?" Needleneedle. She's a bit of a motor head herself, so she does understand the appeal of it. The mention of pod racer parts was enough to get a cocked eyebrow earlier, so it wasn't a stretch to put two and two together.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"Sounds like the Hutt Cartel." Juno doesn't grin, absently pushing around the dregs of her meal on her plate. "The only language they speak is credits. You can say things to them, but at the end of the day, that's the only thing they're really going to have an understanding of, or any respect for. I guess I don't care about them so much; the Empire is worse. At least there's some kind of basic logic behind how the Hutts work."

She raises a pale brow. "Getting involved? No. I'm not suicidal. No human has ever gotten anywhere with the sport. We just haven't got the reflexes for it, and can't handle the physical stresses. The only thing I can think of that might help is a touch of Force-sensitivity, which I haven't got. That might make up for it, but even a Force-sensitive pilot would still have a hard time. A human pilot would be a joke to most established racers."

"I know how the podracers work, though. I know how to do work on them, I know how to build one from the ground up, and I know the theories and strategies you would need to race." Juno shows her teeth. "I'm just not stupid enough to climb into one of those death-traps myself. I suppose something slowed down might be doable, but as it is in its classic form... nope. No way. We're just literally not built for it. I've got a junked salvage podracer aboard the Rogue Shadow I could show you some time. It's something of a pet project of mine. When I was still in the Empire, Vader wanted me to build one; I guess as some kind of test of my engineering mettle. I've still got the husk, and I might even finish it someday."

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
    "You have no idea. I'll tell you about the Pacific Private Business Corps sometime." Essentially, Maaka refers to the biggest, scariest organization in Asia short of the Izunagi or the Sino-Coalition. They fit the hutts far better, unfortunately.

    Maaka glances back at the holofeed again, eyeing the pod racers as she notices the lack of human pilots. The aliens at the controls were too oddly proportioned, too squat or spindly and perfectly sized for those cramped pods. She cocks an eyebrow when Juno mentions Vader's curious little commission, "Odd request for a Dark Lord, even if the logic's sound. Can't imagine he was any easier to work for after that." Really tall cyborgs in black caped armor with iron lungs tend to be that way, it seems.

    Maaka considers in the back of her head trying it herself. GIven her body mods, g-forces and reaction times so precise the human eye could barely manage them don't sound too intimidating for her, but her own size does make the idea of trying it given the average pod a laughable endeavor regardless, so she pushes that thought aside.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"The Hutts are at least predictable. Whatever they're doing, and wherever they have an interest in something, it's almost guaranteeable that their interest boils down to credits in some form or another." Juno gestures nebulously with her fork, not quite shrugging. "Happens every time, with every interest. That's why they sanction podracing, even though the Empire technically bans it; it earns them too many credits to entertain the idea of supporting the Imperial ban."

It doesn't take long for Juno to finish what's on her plate; mainly because she's ravenous, and it's genuinely good fare. She pushes the empty plate aside, and drains her glass before setting that aside as well. "Not really. I actually have no idea why he wanted me to deal with a podracer, of all things. Well, he didn't. He said something to the effect of 'build me soemthing that accurately reflects the technological culture of Tatooine.'" Juno shrugs. "So I built a podracer."

"You can't really think of Tatooine technology without thinking of podracers. There aren't too many worlds that you can find better parts for them, anyway." Leaning back, she looks out to Bespin's cloudscape. "I don't really know why he asked that of me, though, or what interest he might have in Tatooine. Normally I like to stay far away from it whenever and wherever I can. I'm only going there tomorrow because I don't really have much of a choice, not if I want that information. I've got to weigh the information against how deep into the Core Worlds I need to go to get it, and Tatooine is a ratio I'm fairly comfortable with, even if I hate that miserable sand trap of a planet."

She sighs, standing up and wavering a bit on her feet. "Anyway, thanks for joining me. I'll cover the tab; don't worry about it. I'd better get moving. I've been here for too long already. Stay safe, and I'll be in touch." The pilot claps Maaka on the shoulder in passing, gesturing for PROXY to follow.

The droid does, looking at the cyborg as he goes. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Maaka."

"We'll be in touch. I'm probably going to sleep. If you've got any interesting messages, you can probably leave them with PROXY, or Galen. Either one'll make sure I get them eventually." Sketching a mock salute, the blonde pilot turns, then, melting into the crowds of Cloud City; for someone with such a decidedly Core Worlds complexion, she blends into the crowd pretty easily. She's gone soon enough.

If Maaka decides to hang around for another twenty minutes or so, she might notice the sleek shape of the Rogue Shadow rising from the nearest stardock, to find itself a nice sparse orbit to jump to hyperspace from.