The Big Reveal?

The Big Reveal?
Date of Scene:	26 March 2014
Location:	Void - Super Solar System
Synopsis:	The mysterious vagabond known as "Lowri" finally reveals her identity as a Jedi.
Cast of Characters:	414, 428, 778

---

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Welcome to the world of Aquilaris, located in the Sanbra Sector of the Outer Rim. There is absolutely nothing here to attract people unless one happens to be interested in cheap booze, activities of questionable legality, and podracing. Aquilaris boasts several tracks of interest to the podracing circuit, all of which are carved from the ruins of cities that failed.

The main port city here is the Floating City, capital of Aquilaris, built from a giant floating city-ship with connections to nearby islands via underwater tunnel and bridges, as well as underwater moorings. Economically, it has a sharp contrast between rich and poor, it's probably riddled with crime, and half the time the weather is extremely inclement.

Right now, the weather is pretty unambiguously crummy.

Rain sluices down from leaden skies as a single starfighter hovers down amidst buffeting winds, struggling to keep itself level with the landing pad. The Rogue Shadow is thankfully obscured by the very self-same weather that makes its landing so rough; wind and water and dim skies combining to make it very difficult to make out just what kind of ship it is.

Thankfully it doesn't take too long to land. Special Captain Juno Eclipse is very, very good at what she does.

Special Captain Juno Eclipse is also only somewhat prepared for the deluge that awaits her when she opens the entry hatch, earning for her efforts a faceful of rain and howling wind. Sputtering, she makes a grab for her cap, forced to dash for the nearest building.

The Floating City must be on hard times. The nearest building is not the port authority, but a cantina. Chances are nobody cares enough to run the port authority any more. This place almost makes Taris look good. At least Taris' weather isn't miserable.

Dashing from ship to safe haven, Juno's black Imperial officers' uniform is thoroughly soaked by the time she reaches a place that isn't raining, which is the cantina. The door bangs open with a howl of wind, Juno throws herself inside, and the door bangs closed.

The woman leans back against the inside wall, gasping for air after her forced sprint – the docks aren't exactly close. She made pretty good time, but not good enough to avoid a thorough soaking.

Reaching up, she peels off her uniform cap, and undoes her streaming hair from its French twist, wringing the water out of it as best she can with an expression of thorough disgust.

"I hate this bloody planet already," she mutters under her breath. Her voice is neat and clipped, with an accent almost British-sounding; crisp and efficient. After a few seconds she just lets her hair fall in disgust, though not before tying it into a loose (if still-streaming) ponytail. It's useless to try and wring it all out; she's just too soaked, and rapidly aware of how cold it is even in the cantina. Her uniform feels like it's twenty pounds heavier, and she pulls her shirt closed, folding her arms and trying not to shiver too obviously.

"Bloody water worlds," she mutters again, under her breath.

Once she's put herself back together, somewhat, she finally remembers to cast an eye toward the dim cantina and its roomful of dispirited natives. Maybe there's somebody else here who doesn't belong; someone who might be able to offer up more information on this 'Lowri' character she's been trying (in vain) to track down.

Juno glances to the door, then, very possibly hoping that her associate didn't get himself drowned out there. Well, he'll be in whenever he's able.

Cheating bastard can probably Force-push the rain away from himself, anyway.

Revan (414) has posed:
The planet was out of the way even by Revan's standards. She /had/ been aiming for the cusp of the Unknown Regions and somehow ended up approaching a world that seemed to have been entered into the navigation computer but that shouldn't have been along the hyperspace route she had been on. It was getting to be more than a little annoying when she set out for a particular location and ended up...wherever the Force seemed to want to throw her. As much as she accepted that the will of the Force was irresistible and ultimately for the greater good, the Guardian would have appreciated some advanced warning the multiverse was about to pull another fast one on her. A vision, a subspace beacon...something. "I don't think it'd be too much to ask for just a subspace beacon letting us know we're about to jump galaxies again, do you?" she asked the rhetorical question out loud.

T3-M4 helpfully chimed in with what sounded like a mildly sarcastic bleep, which made the Jedi smirk slightly. He seemed to be catching onto her dry sense of humour. "I suppose that it does keep us on our toes," she remarked with that very dryness. "Though...I'm sure there's some reason for us to be here."

On the other hand, trying to land the Ebon Hawk safely was a good test of her conviction. She managed to settle the freighter down through the torrent, though she was beginning to wonder if she should have just kept going for a drier world. "I sure know how to pick 'em, don't I?" Revan paused for a moment and then added before T3 could interject, "...Don't answer that."

The droid "grumbled" a bit at the rough landing, but all things considered, it wasn't that bad: the ship was still in one piece. It was just as well – he'd need to stay with the ship while she investigated. She considered changing into her commando's uniform, but thought better of it; there might be someone who would respond better to a Jedi than a soldier. She was, after all, hunting for whatever it was that might have corrupted her all those years ago after the Mandalorian Wars. It was frustrating not knowing, but like the odd world-jumping problem, that seemed to be something the Force was guiding her through even if she didn't have all the pieces... or many, if she was completely honest with herself. her role as a Jedi was probably much better suited to that task.

And besides, her robe had a hood. She was going to get soaked anyway, but at least the hood would mitigate it somewhat.

Tossing up the hood, Revan made her way to the starboard exit of the ship and descended the ramp, pausing beneath the shelter of the Ebon Hawk. She didn't much fancy the idea of being thoroughly soaked, but on the other hand, she was not about to use the Force to boost her speed as she often did in battle; such would be a frivolous use and hence something she tended to avoid. Revan preferred not to overly rely on them for many reasons, not the least of which being that it made it harder to hear the subtle guidance of the Force over the own noise of a user's activity. As it was, the former Sith Lord needed the former much more.

Instead, she visually scanned the area, finding the closest building to the landing area: a cantina. For a moment, the Jedi idly considered waiting it out, but it didn't look like the downpour was going to end anytime soon. She wasn't inclined to simply wait around on the Hawk, and she was on something of a tight schedule as it was. Braving the torrent it was.

Making a regular unassisted sprint to the door, she slipped into the cantina as quickly as she could, shaking water out of her sleeves.

Kyle Katarn (778) has posed:
It's not long before a custom two-seater cruiser begins landing procedures. Soon as it's under a canopy from the rain, Kyle and Jan are quick to hop on out and handle the usual docking flimsiwork. "This planet again? Of all the dumps we had to go to for repairs and we end up here?" Kyle says, throwing on a heavy raincoat before tossing Jan on as well.

Jan shrugs a shoulder, already filling in orders for some maintainence work from the docking bay crews to take care of the ship. "At least the vendors here have some pretty good parts, just what we need if anything." She points out, giving the Raven's Claw a mournful glance.

The ship's in pretty bad condition, battered and shot up from a mission gone way south. Even with her talents, Jan would need to shell out the big creds to get the thing repaired.

But until they can get to a vendor, as most of the stores seem to have closed due to the rain itself, the two are forced to hole up in a cantina somewhere.

The two enter the drinking hole sometime after whenever Juno does anyway. Speaking of, Kyle takes note of the blond immediately, once he and Jan spot the black uniform and tags.

Corolag accent? Imperial uniform? Stuffy and somewhat self-righteous while still sounding like she's desperate not to end up pissing off her superiors for whatever infraction? Kyle's seen quite a few that were just like the woman that just wandered into the cantina.

"Kyl—" Jan's cut off by a quick motion from Kyle, a non-verbal 'Play it cool.' Not like they just got off an Imperial Remnant controlled world after sabotaging one of their compounds, nope.

At the least, Kyle's glad his coat hides the lightsaber at his belt, and the two look the part more of a pair of mercenaries than Republic black-ops.

Then Lowri enters. Kyle raises an eyebrow as he spots the ex-Sith wandering in with her hood, while Jan whispers, "Is that the one?"

All Kyle responds with is a nod, a nod that says they just began courting serious trouble if they don't watch themselves.

So, they play it cool, grabbing a pair of seats and ordering up Corellian ale and a couple glasses to share, for the moment content to drink.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Juno regards the cantina's main room from an inconspicuous corner, arms still folded so tightly around herself it causes her shoulders to stick out a bit. She's trying not to shiver, but it's hard; the room is drafty, and a little on the cool side. If this causes her to catch something, she's going to be unhappy... but she can deal with that later.

Much later, as the newest arrival to this port in the storm pushes in through the door. Though it's a little different from the type she might be accustomed to, Juno would recognise the hooded robe of the Jedi Order anywhere in the galaxy.

Those blue eyes narrow in sudden apprehension. She presses herself further into the corner and silently backing up against the wall. It is perhaps that apprehension and subtle dread that the anonymous Jedi might pick up on, identifying her watcher shivering in the corner.

The comforting weight of the blaster at Juno's hip has begun to feel like useless dead weight. That weapon won't be of any help if these Jedi happen to react with hostility to her uniform. Next time, she's going to have to find something more unobtrusive... though it's not really normal for her to be leaving the ship. Ordinarily, that falls into Galen's jurisdiction.

Before Juno has to puzzle out what she should do about this fresh complication, there's another Jedi walking in through the door. Irritation seeps into her presence; irritation, and an immediate glance towards the nearest exit. Which Kyle is standing in.

Oh, damn.

Unfortunately, his first impressions are a little off. There is no desperation about Juno; at least not until that both foreign Jedi walk in through the front door. She is confident and competent, qualities that many of the lower rank-and-file of the Empire lack. She is on a level beyond the expendable masses. Or so she might hope.

Juno reaches up to wring out her hair one more time, quietly willing the newcomers not to pay any attention to the soaking wet Imperial in the corner.

"Damn," she mutters under her breath. There's going to be no avoiding them, though; the cantina is largely empty, and most of the other regulars have made their way towards the other dimly-lit corners.

So she pushes herself further back into the shadows, and makes every attempt to look uninteresting and unworthy of their attention.

That's probably not going to work at all. At least she can cover it up as trying to stay warm – which is true; she's cold, and getting colder in this miserable flea-trap of an establishment. The owner is probably too poor or too miserly to run any kind of climate control.

Meanwhile, the line running through her head is something along the lines of a pseudo-desperate 'look away, look away, look away.'

Revan (414) has posed:
After a few moments, Lowri pulled her hood down, wringing out a thick braid of platinum blonde hair. Mismatched eyes flickered around the room, and a number of things caught her attention in the dim, run-down establishment. Admittedly, she had probably seen worse, but it certainly wasn't an ideal place to hunt for information... or even stay for very long.

What was of more immediate interest were two of its patrons, probably both just as unwilling to be here as she was. The first Revan spotted donned a (soaking wet) uniform that, while being one she failed to recognise, also seemed strangely familiar. The cut of it reminded her of the uniforms the Sith often wore around the Academy on Korriban, with similar greys, and an obvious military design. But it was not that particular uniform, she could tell that much. Moreover, she could sense nothing of the Force within that soldier. If she was indeed one of the remnants of the Sith Empire Revan helped create, she was one of their general military troops. Of course, it was much more likely that she was not even from Revan's own version of the galaxy, at all.

Rather than stare, trying to discern the nature of the mystery, she deliberately looked back towards the bar...and towards something she did recognise. Or rather, someone... and one whom she for certain knew was not from her galaxy.

Casually heading towards Kyle's direction, the Guardian nodded to him and offered a brief, two-fingered salute. However, uncertain of the present situation, she refrained from saying anything just yet.

Kyle Katarn (778) has posed:
They only tangentially met before once, that's Kyle's story as he returns the salute a bit to Lowri when she gets close. It's not like neither he nor Jan hid their faces much, they've probably barely even made their mark as mercenaries by the time Juno unified, assuming they even exist there. One never knows, really.

Jan glances over at the robed figure and gives a casual wave before she nudges aside the patron besides her, NotKyle, to open up a little room. "Hey, so you're the one Kyle spoke about. Lowri, right? Jan, his partner." She offers up a hand, a seemingly gloved one that Lowri will find through grip to be a cybernetic hand in actuality. "Want a drink? We're buying, might as well if you're stuck on this dump too." For a moment, the agent notes the robes, but she doesn't say anything about them. She's only seen those during quick visits to the Temple, but the Imperial officer here might give a good reason to not single Lowri out right now.

Meanwhile Kyle watches Juno like a hawk, eyes narrowed as he detects irritation and a need to keep as low a profile as possible. Smart woman, seems she's not here for arresting suspicious persons, more like here on necessity for other reasons. Something tells him that ship malfunctions are a common thing around here, given how quickly the vendors for ship parts seemed to sell out and close for the day.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Hiding in the shadows might be smart to stay out of a normal person's sight, but the Jedi don't need to see things to know that they're there. The way she presses herself into the corner does nothing but offer Juno a false sense of security.

It is both figurative and literal cold comfort at this point. She doesn't know for certain that she's been spotted, but her gut in situations like this usually tells her to assume the worst. Usually, she can be pleasantly surprised when the worst doesn't happen.

That the Jedi looks away so quickly is cause for concern, though, or at least cause for extra suspicion. Juno narrows her eyes. The gesture might only be visible from the dim reflection of light; she's managed to find her way so far back into the corner that some might think she's more of a criminal element than an Imperial officer.

Seems like this woman really doesn't want to be found, and her aura is screaming as much. She herself is watching like a hawk as Lowri strolls casually over to Kyle, greeting the man and his associate as though she knows them. So, that makes this a potential three against one. The odds are looking worse by the moment.

Juno lets her mind scramble for a few seconds, trying to come up with some sort of vague plan that doesn't involve endangering herself, calling Galen in to provide the violence solution, or flat-out running away. She came here for information, and it's information she's going to get.

She's smart, though, and she knows when she's the one being watched. Kyle's hawkish stare is returned with a stare of her own, kept carefully and blandly neutral; just enough to indicate that she knows she's being watched and she probably doesn't like it.

He's watching her just a little too closely for comfort.

"Can I help you, or do you make it a habit to stare at strangers?" Her voice is neat and clipped, carrying the accent of the Core Worlds. If they're familiar with different dialects, they might recognise that it comes specifically from Corulag. "In some worlds, that is still considered rude." She folds her arms a little more loosely, trying to will herself to stop shivering. (It doesn't work.)

Those ice-blue eyes rake Kyle, and then the robed form of Lowri. "Can I help you, then...?"

Revan (414) has posed:
Jan's question was answered with a nod and acceptance of her offered cybernetic hand with a slight smile. "That would be me," she replied, though *how* much the other Jedi had told his companion exactly, she wasn't sure. Not that she would have necessarily been on guard more, but Revan preferred to put her past behind her. At least, as much as she was able to when it didn't involve trying to save the galaxy.

"Sure, I wouldn't mind a drink."

Keeping her eyes off the uniform, Lowri simply kept her senses open for signs of aggression as she kept up the facade, less for Jan's sake than the person she was pretending not to take too much notice of. She wasn't picking up anything of that nature so far, but she decided to play it safe. Chances were that, as she was, the would-be Sith officer was merely stuck here as the Jedi was.

Likewise, she made a note to regulate whatever she drank; it wasn't as if she needed to deliberately involve herself in a raucous Mandalorian drinking binge to get them to open up a little. No, she needed to stay focused.

On the other hand, Kyle seemed to be doing the observing for her. Revan could always ask about that later, find out what exactly was the nature of that foreign uniform. Convenient.

At least, until the woman spoke. At that point, Lowri's head whipped around involuntarily, her heterochromatic eyes reflecting the ripple of shock that radiated out from her through the Force. She very much recognised that crisp, dry voice.

It was the pilot from the "Grey Falcon".

Kyle Katarn (778) has posed:
A shrug. Kyle just eyes the blond officer back with no small amount of meh before he answers. "Nothin', never seen Imperials around here before is all. Place was neutral territory unless your ship needed a landing." Pause. He didn't spot a Lambda class shuttle when he got here, that's for sure. Still suspicious, Kyle's gaze only breaks when Jan nudges him back to her and Lowri.

"Way to ignore your own advice there, hon." Jan chides half-playfully, gently tapping his arm a bit as she looks over at Lowri. All he told her was that the girl was a Jedi who needed his help for something, possibly anyway. That's all she needs to know that a little discretion is necessary to keep things from going from powder keg to explosion.

"So..funny us all meeting here, huh?" She continues, unsubtly nudging Kyle his glass before she orders up another for Lowri. He meanwhile motions to his ear for a brief moment for Lowri, indicating comms.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Although she does edge out of the shadows a bit, Juno seems to do so only reluctantly. She's still hanging back a little, both because it means less of a draft against thoroughly soaked uniform and skin, and because she really doesn't want to reveal herself in front of a Jedi.

Make no mistake, she has comparatively little shame about serving the Galactic Empire, but she isn't equipped to handle a Jedi. That's what Starkiller is for. In fact, Galen might well pick up on the great deal of apprehension and tension radiating from his pilot; something here disturbs her greatly, that much he can easily discern.

The pilot's eyes stray back to the implicit mercenary, and Juno reflects that she doesn't much care for his attitude. Those ice-blue eyes narrow, and she almost seems about to say something else... but before she can, recognition gradually sinks in.

Her head whips back to 'Lowri' just as fast, eyes widening. A ripple of shock radiates from her through the Force as well; shock, on top of all the tension and unease she already has churning through her.

"What?" That crisp, dry voice has gone a little more dry; almost reedy in her surprise. Juno stares openly at Revan. "You're Lowri? You're—you're—"

A Jedi, but she can't find her voice to finish the sentence. It does make sense. Any pilot willingly plying the asteroid fields must surely have precognition to survive the chaos it represents. Or, no heed at all for their own safety. Of course, in Juno's case, she had superior sensor equipment to rely on; avionics far better than anything else produced by her own Imperial Navy. Still, the Ebon Hawk had looked pretty old and battered. It's a good bet that its systems are not nearly as advanced.

The Rogue Shadow is, after all, extremely specialised.

"E-eeh?" The Rogue Shadow's pilot gives a startled exclamation as she stares openly at Revan, too flabbergasted to resolve itself into a proper inquiry. She's not so flabbergasted that she can't jab an accusatory finger in Revan's direction, though. Immediately afterward, she remembers to step back and flatten herself back against the wall, ignoring the puddle her boot disturbs. "Y-you're the pilot of the Ebon Hawk? You never mentioned being a Jedi."

Juno wishes, quite intensely, for three things: That her voice were steadier, she had not backed herself into a literal corner, and that she carried a weapon that was not entirely useless against Jedi. Should the Jedi turn hostile, Juno knows she has no hope of surviving this encounter.

That ripple of anxiety through the Force takes a sharp upswing.

Revan (414) has posed:
Jan was nobody's fool, Revan could tell that much. She'd learned long ago not to underestimate someone simply because they weren't Force-sensitive – if nothing else, she remembered her false life as a soldier and had come to respect the grunts even more than she did as a Jedi commander – and understood full-well that she was better off relying on her wits more than Force powers.

"Small universe, hmm?" she quipped dryly to the pilot with a slight smirk.

And so it certainly was once she discovered a but about the true nature of her mysterious benefactor from the asteroid fields. At the same moment as Juno made her involuntary, muted exclamation, Lowri made the same one. "E-eeh?"

Fortunately, she had been trained – along with her natural aptitude – to recover quickly.

Switching to the radio as Kyle prompted, she answered the question he had murmured into it, that she had encountered this mysterious woman previously, albeit not directly in-person.

But at Juno's accusation, she deliberately donned an annoyed expression. "That's rich. You didn't even introduce yourself. A little bit rude, don't you think?"

If anything, the Jedi seemed to be merely offended rather than readying to stick a lightsaber through the Imperial's gut. Not that she would have anyway, but it now seemed their little cold war had just taken an unexpected turn.

Kyle Katarn (778) has posed:
Lowri and Juno had been talking on the radio before time and again. Kyle wasn't so sure about the nature as to Juno, even by voice, and he's not exactly in any hurry to join in on the conversation now. Of course, no amount of playing things safe will stop things from getting extremely tense for a moment as Juno recognizes a thing or two about Lowri.

Jan meanwhile is having the lion's share of the Corellian ale at the moment, watching this like it's a holocom as she only briefly hovers a hand over her blaster when Juno gives off that weird shout of hers.

Kyle meanwhile just shrugs at Lowri. "Can't be helped, Imperials aren't exactly known for manners anyway." Well, if Lowri's snarking then what the hell.

His hand is nowhere close to his own lightsaber either, considering the amount of witnesses here, even if folks seem to want nothing to do with the four right now, either pouring out or just simply edging away very quickly.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Juno may not have Jedi training, but she's smart and she's resilient. She recovers reasonably quickly from that little scare, frowning and standing her ground in the shadows. It seems she'd rather stay half-hidden, even though it offers her no tactical advantage. The Jedi would probably see her even if she were hiding in a box.

"I do remember being just a bit distracted at the time," Juno snaps. "And it isn't as though you had ever asked, had you?"

Despite this, her outward appearance is admirably calm. Her voice has evened out and found its efficient, clipped tones again. Clearly, this is a woman accustomed to masking her reactions, and it probably works perfectly well on normal people. Too bad these are not normal people.

Part of her wishes she'd left the Ebon Hawk stranded in the asteroids.

She seems to remember that she's still clutching her cap, which she moves forward to wring out with a savage twist, sticking it back on her head and valiantly ignoring the trickle of cold water down the back of her neck. She's cold and she's wet, and these are two things that are usually going to make Juno Eclipse kind of grumpy, even if she hides it well on the surface with brisk sarcasm.

"Unfortunately for you, you won't be getting it, at least not from me. Oh, don't mistake me; I don't enjoy being rude. I have my reasons." In other words, she isn't at liberty to say, though she doesn't outright state that. She smiles suddenly, though the expression is hard-edged and unhappy. The ripple of emotion that accompanies it is likewise unhappy; anxiety and bottled aggression coiled tight. "And so help me, if you try to use the Force to wrest it from my mind, you will regret it... but I suppose you need to call me something, at least to prevent confusion. Call me Blackout."

Her threat seems genuine enough, backed up by a level of confidence that a single individual caught in a corner shouldn't be showing. Is it really a bluff, or does she really have some kind of actual threat in mind? What trick does this lone Imperial woman have up her sleeve to equal the power of a Jedi?

"And do keep your distance. I really don't want to have you hurt." The wording is curious; it suggests an indirect means. Alright, so it seems she isn't capable of following through herself. That's interesting. What could she possibly be hiding? "Please," she adds crisply.

What? She might be working for Evil, Inc., but she has her manners.

Other people don't. She pauses smoothly in the midst of her conversation to address Kyle, without even looking at him; jabbing a finger in his direction.

"You. Mercenary. Shut up." Crisp. Efficient. Direct. Sometimes that's the best way to deal with certain people.

Juno continues without skipping a beat, eyes locked on Lowri. "I suppose you're not going to tell me anything worthwhile, but I'd like to know more about your timeline. I could find little information on the calendar you had mentioned. Are there any notable events happening, or that have happened, to clarify? I must admit to a certain curiosity. I know of no calendar system by that name."

Perhaps her anxiety and tension are approaching levels that might even get Galen's attention, like a giant neon beacon, but she must be okay thus far – she hasn't outright called for him just yet, and he can probably rest assured that if she truly needed help, she's not too proud to call for it.

Most likely he got hung up with PROXY, playing their psychotic murdergames.

Juno quickly decides that PROXY's sense of timing is absolutely terrible. She'll have to talk to him about that, some time.

Reluctantly, her eyes slide back over to Kyle. Oh, she hasn't forgotten about you, don't worry. But right now, her attention is fixed on Revan – whom she looks at again, waiting for an answer.

Revan (414) has posed:
And it was back to putting up fronts while the two – Imperial and Jedi – gauged each other, trying to discern what they could about the other without giving too much away. Lowri wasn't one of those Jedi who could read a person through the Force and uncover their intentions or even their emotional state; in the case of the latter, only strong reactions registered, which is one way she knew Juno's shock was genuine. Then again, she didn't really need Force powers to tell her that. And even now, she relied on wits; the Force might bestow incredible gifts, but strategy and tactics were not among them.

An Imperial. So that's why she didn't recognise the uniform. The Guardian had scoured the databases she could find after her introduction to the multiverse when Kyle had first mentioned the name.But that had only left her with countless more questions about what might have been her galaxy's distant future, long after she would be gone.It would take years to study and understand it all, and she was pressed for time as it was.She couldn't afford to worry about things which didn't immediately affect what she was trying to protect.However, it made dealing with the realities of this far-off future frustrating at the very least.

But this frustration didn't reflect on her face, a carefully composed mask of pseudo-annoyance.Or perhaps it was real, but not directed at the genuine target. "Right back at you," she grumbled. "You never asked if I was a Jedi. See, the way it works is this: you say 'Hello, my name is...' and then you say your name after it." All right, so it was a little rude. Let's see if she can keep up that composure.

It was a good thing Lowri couldn't remember her real name, otherwise things might have become more problematic, even if there was no real need to hide her name. Then again, she mused, she was so far back into Juno's distant past that none of her names would have meant anything...not even her infamous sobriquet. It was entirely possible that her Empire had deliberately erased traces of the Dark Lord who had brought the Mandalorians and the Republic to their knees, but her "nickname" hadn't even registered with Kyle. If the truth was that she had been forgotten, Revan was of two minds on it.On the one hand, future generations couldn't learn from her mistakes...but on the other, whatever teachings she might have formed would have been equally unknown. But, she decided, it was ultimately better this way because it narrowed down her search: Sith who didn't recognise her would probably be from that future, and she wouldn't have to waste time questioning them.

In the more immediate sense, however, she had to glean what she could from Juno.Her own smile was sweet, even charming. But there was an edge behind it, like a steel fist underneath a velvet glove. "Oh, don't we all," she replied. "Fortunately, I'm not in the habit of ripping information out of minds." Well, not any more, she thought, but that was better left unsaid.As much as she wanted information, Revan preferred not to use intimidation of she could help it.Charisma was so much more effective.

But with the amount of secrecy Juno was exercising over something as simple as a name, that told her much more than Juno probably would have liked. However, she refrained from sharing her observation...at least, to the Imperial.

"Intelligence," she told Kyle over her radio. "Either that, or Special Forces...or something similar. Much too secretive to be a regular fleet officer."

The threat followed by the unexpected "please" nearly made her laugh. The pilot definitely had guts to go with the polish; a civilised person had to respect that. "I don't know," she added to Kyle. "That seemed pretty polite to me. I don't think any other threat aimed in my direction ever ended with a request."

And then she tried a different tactic. While Revan doubted it would have its usual effect of getting people to trust her, (sometimes immediately) her current tactics seemed to be leading into dead ends. "Relax, I'm not going to start anything here as long as you don't start shooting up the place." The Guardian punctuated her words with a sip of Corellian ale, though she involuntarily paused to look down at the glass. "Oh, they changed the formula..." she mused softly before she continued with a shrug.

"To be completely honest, there isn't much I could tell you about anything that would be useful to you," she admitted. It was probably true. "I mentioned the Sith Empire being practically destroyed. By our calendar, the war ended 21,101 years after the founding of the Republic." That much should have been common knowledge...and if not, what was this unfamiliar Empire hiding? Or were they even hiding anything at all, the knowledge having simply been lost to the fog of time?

Lowri examined her options. What had happened in what was Juno's ancient past was probably not especially useful, just as she had said. On the other hand, sharing information could actually help in the long run. "Anything in particular you want to know?" she asked, taking another sip. Perhaps it was a dangerous game she was playing here, but Revan didn't know any other kind, save Pazaak. And she was terrible at Pazaak.

Kyle Katarn (778) has posed:
Just as the meeting of snarky, and also dangerous, women in his life commences, Kyle just kinda shuts up when Juno barks at him. “Please gets you a bit further, lady.” He mutters, before he and Jan sit back and enjoy the show. No point in dumping more and more temporal shenanigans on these two, especially with the whole ‘Everything Juno answers to will be just a memory, run by petty remnants of the Imperial brass while a bunch of psychos who touched a few Sith artifacts try to name themselves Palpatine’s successor’ or some deal.

"I’m gonna tell 'em." Jan mutters between sips of ale.

"Don’t even think about."

Jan almost pouts. "Funkiller."

Meanwhile, Kyle’s hand moves to keep his coat close to him, hiding the lightsaber he brought to this. It’s only a matter of time before Juno figures it out. She’s a smart one, more so than most Imperial bootlicks he’s dealt with before. The less ammunition about the future Juno gets, the better, At least until Kyle can come up with some sort of plan anyways.

Besides, ripping intel from people telepathically isn’t easy. And it’s rude as hell too.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Although Juno is not a vicious person by nature, there are times when she can show her claws and make them count for something. Verbally, anyway. In terms of raw ability, she's considerably beneath the people she serves and reports to. She will never be a Galen Marek or a Darth Vader and has no illusions about that. As the first seven pilots of the Rogue Shadow proved, pilots are a very expendable resource, although she's asserted that there will not be a ninth.

As the other two consider their options, Juno busies herself with wringing out her hair again, twisting it sharply between both hands. She ignores the resultant puddle left on the floor. Part of her is going to be very annoyed if her Aqualarian souvenir from this trip is 'death flu.'

Where Revan partly plays at her annoyance, Juno's is genuine. She's soaked through, and the dankness of the cantina only reminds her that her uniform is on the thin side. It isn't practical weather gear, and she'll have to see about stocking the Rogue Shadow with supplies like that. They should be easy enough to requisition.

She folds her arms tightly again, trying to stay warm, though the gesture almost seems one of self-protection as much as warding the cold off. She's not feeling very comfortable in any sense of the word. It's tempting to call Galen, but she isn't certain that interrupting him would serve much purpose. She's not in any real danger right now, even though meeting a Jedi had been beyond her expectations. At most, she expected this Lowri woman to be a smuggler, associated by trade with the Jedi – not to actually be one.

Revan's pointed jab earns a sour look from Juno, but to her credit, no more than that. She may well be intelligence, evasive and secretive. While she could tell them, she has no idea where their loyalties might lie. As far as the Jedi go, she holds no enmity towards them, but she won't help them. Galen may be tasked to kill one of them through Multiversal means. He might appreciate the extra challenge, but why make their job any harder than it already is?

By the same token, she's not going to go out of her way to antagonise them. Putting aside her own vulnerability, she may be a Confederate soldier, but she isn't as heavily invested as some are. Even serving her Galactic Empire is only a means to an end; a means she ultimately cares little about any more.

"Why should I have? The thought of asking wouldn't have crossed my mind. The Jedi of my age are virtually extinct." She folds her arms, regarding Revan warily. It doesn't inspire much confidence, considering she's shivering. "From my point of view, it would've been more logical to conclude that you were working with them, not one of them. The only reason I suspected that much is your mention of lightsabers. You might want to be more careful with the Multiversal broadband. You never know who may be listening."

This is all given in a calm and level tone of voice. She may be irritated, but she won't give Revan the satisfaction of knowing that directly. She has poise and quick wit, even if it's hard for her to exercise those right now, cold and wet and threatened as she feels. Most times, she can deal with things gracefully, and she knows when not to take the inherent sarcasm too far. They're qualities many Imperial troopers lack... and that alone suggests that she's something else entirely.

Juno resists the urge to grumble under her breath. Even if things get heated, leaving isn't an option. She can't leave Galen and PROXY behind, if they're not aboard the ship. Running outside isn't much of an option, either. She's already certain that she's not going to be well after this soaking. That's not a heartening notion, considering she can't exactly take sick leave unless she's physically unable to perform her duties.

Juno resists the urge to grumble under her breath. She regards Revan warily, trying unsuccessfully to hide her own shivering.

"Good. Then we're in agreement with that much, at least. I don't intend to attack you, so long as you give me no reason to."

"Yes. You mentioned the Sith Empire. I checked every source of information I could think to, and the best I could find was general summaries. It rose to prominence some four thousand years ago, give or take a century." Her irritation falls away as she adopts a more thoughtful expression. "Actually, I could find little in the histories about it. It must have lost relevance over the years; a flash in the pan, forgotten once time had dulled its status. It collapsed not so long after its founding, it seems."

Such accounts are complicated, though. There's always a chance that the Sith Empire was purged from current histories. History is always written by the victors. Perhaps her opinion may be truth, too, and it simply lost relevance to modern societies.

Juno shrugs.

"I was able to find mention of the Republic, but that isn't surprising. It was founded twenty-five thousand years ago, and dissolved approximately... seventeen years ago. Nineteen, perhaps? I'm afraid time goes a bit funny when you introduce the Multiverse," the pilot adds, almost apologetically. "The Sith Empire was presumably but one among a long line of would-be usurpers to Republic rule, but ultimately lacked the strength to disrupt an entity entrenched for tens of thousands of years. I suppose it lacked some quality to attract public support."

She has a few suspicions as to why, if the current Galactic Empire imitates it in any way.

"Hmm."

Juno considers Revan's question, still thoughtful. Even she can tell the other is sincere enough about offering information. No Force tricks, nothing but intuition. She'd be wise to take this olive branch before Revan changes her mind. Arms still folded tightly over her chest, Juno drums the fingers of one hand against the opposite forearm, and tries to ignore the wet sound of the fabric. There are plenty of things she could ask, but she'd better be careful. This kind of opportunity could be limited.

She seems to give the question serious thought, looking down and away while she thinks about something that might pique her curiosity, or Galen's. Ultimately, she can't come up with anything that might offer a tactical advantage, and so she thinks for a few moments more; perhaps giving the two Jedi time to talk amongst themselves.

The pilot seems to give up after a few seconds, unable to reach a satisfactory conclusion. Juno sighs, shaking her head and shrugging (and ignoring the wet splack sound her uniform makes when she drops her arms).

"I can't think of anything. If you have any questions for me, though, I'll try to answer them to the best of my ability... though I can't guarantee you a satisfactory answer. Several thousand years is quite a difference."

It's a convenient excuse not to reveal classified information, but it's also an honest one. Juno does have considerably more moral integrity than most of the people she works with and for. If she's going to lie, she's going to make sure that it's at least a half-truth.

Revan (414) has posed:
Lowri, Revan...at times, she wasn't even sure what sort of person she truly was. The fact that she didn't even know her real name was only the tip of the proverbial asteroid...not that she particularly wanted to think about asteroids for a while. Those had been fascinating, but far too deadly to let her curiosity run wild and explore what she could. But as far as her identity went, at times the Jedi wasn't completely certain who she was. Her memories as a Dark Lord remained elusive, even as much as she needed them to root out the great threat the Council had sensed. But even her life as a Jedi before then; as a child, as a student at the academy, as a fresh young Knight...nothing. If memories shaped a person, then what precisely was she? Was she simply reacting based on them, or the remnants of the false memories she had been implanted with?

Revan would have done her habitual pacing if she could have. Her experiences, at face value, seemed to conflict. Her companions – Jedi and non-Jedi – had accepted her at different times and various levels. Mission judged her by her actions on Taris and her help with reconciling Zalbaar with his people. Canderous respected her as the former commander of the Republic who had finally defeated the Mandalorians and granted them the glorious battle they had longed for. Jolee waited to see which way she would turn, and finally guided and supported her as she committed herself to the Light, even encouraging her...in his own unique way. Juhani hero-worshipped her for saving her twice, and even loved her in a way which Lowri could not return...not in the way the Cathar would necessarily desire. Bastila had become Force-bonded to her after saving her life after Malak's attack on her ship before finally becoming her confidante and dear friend, someone who had come to understand her on a level no one else would, save one. Carth had mistrusted her, opened up to her, and tried to hate her before offering the love that ultimately saved her, as Jolee had said it would. In truth, they all saved her. Because of them, she would never again become Darth Revan. And yet...what had made her become the Dark Lord in the first place? What had she been like before her fall

But in the immediate sense? She was every bit as wet, cold, and miserable as Juno. A condition that reflected with a slight sneeze. As much as she possessed the Force-enhanced health that most Force sensitives possessed, it was hardly infallible. She really needed to look into some all-weather gear. The fabric of Jedi robes was thick, but when it was soaked...it was soaked and heavy. She could be playful and even a little bit cutting in the mild teasing she usually engaged in with her companions – even going so far as to say things she didn't necessarily believe herself – but today she found herself being especially snarky. But at least she had a good opponent, someone who could even get a one-up on the pale-haired Jedi.

"I'll keep that in mind," she answered with a slight smirk. Of course, that had been the entire point; Revan had been deliberately painting a metaphorical target on her back ever since she had set out on her self-imposed mission. There was something hunting the Jedi, she had heard. The enclave on Dantooine had been destroyed several years ago, but now even the Masters were being hunted down, wherever they had relocated to. She knew that it had something to do with what waited beyond the boundaries of known space...though what it was, she couldn't say. Only by making herself a target would they reveal themselves to her, eventually. Drake had been a completely unexpected element in the matter – and she had to admit that she wondered why he had been offering the holocron in the first place – but one had to change battle plans even in the middle of a heated battle.

That being the case, the Jedi being driven to near extinction itself was a special concern. Something – most likely an aspiring Sith Lord – was picking off Jedi, wherever they were. But this was in her present, and another such hunt on the distant future seemed unrelated.She was beginning to wonder if the cycle of history repeated itself by default. Idly, she wondered how time would be affected in her own galaxy now that it had been unified. Would it gradually increase or decrease? it seemed to be passing the same as before, but how would she – or anyone else, for that matter – even notice?Time itself was beyond something that could be objectively observed, even from the outside of it. Her universe appeared to be no different than before...at least, so far.

Revan had to make an effort to stop her train of thought right there. She had the natural inquisitiveness of any Consular, but her sense of justice and desire to defend those who faced enemies they couldn't possibly defend against overrode that. She needed to stay focused. Maybe once the threat was ended and the Republic finally safe could she indulge herself with the new experiences and knowledge the multiverse offered...and maybe she could persuade Carth to finally retire and come with her. But for now, the phantom threat awaited.

That Revan was the main instigator of that Empire's rise and fall was something the former Sith Lord opted to keep to herself. She was almost relieved that it, whatever role it had ultimately played, had largely been forgotten. She did, however, decide to reveal a little bit more about the truth, casting aside her more friendly demeanor for a more serious one, and she spoke plainly."It wasn't public support that caused it to fall. It certainly wasn't resources; the Star Forge I mentioned when we spoke previously was,among other things, a factory which manufactured battleships. For each ship destroyed, several more replaced it. No...in the end, empires built upon such evil are destined to fall, and be forgotten. No matter who leads them."

What she had told Juno was likewise true in the reverse: there was probably no information the Imperial could give her that would be useful to her own situation. But her curiosity was nevertheless piqued.Besides, perhaps of this new Empire was in any way similar, its followers could be dissuaded from a similar fall into the Dark Side...and ultimately, an unforgiving oblivion.

"That being the case, why serve such a fleeting thing? The Republic is hardly perfect, and also – much as I might be disagreed with here – is the Jedi Order. But anything founded specifically in darkness and oppression...well.Maybe the Republic didn't last, and perhaps even the Jedi won't.But they're the ones remembered, the ones others aspire to, the ones that reach beyond the distant past and into the far future.

"These Empires...they seem to fall to dust and are forgotten as quickly as they rise. Why is that, I wonder?"

Kyle Katarn (778) has posed:
It’s weird, Kyle finds. There’s the Jedi, the Sith, the Republic, and the Empire. Despite everything that’s been sacrificed and fought for by both rebels and Imperials no more than a mere decade ago when terrorism was the only thing that could remotely give a black eye to the Empire everyone thought was indestructible. Kyle himself knew that neither side was entirely pure, nor unstoppable either. Victories and defeats were a common thing on both sides depending where one went, one outsizing the other most of the time.

Which is why Kyle can’t help but just stare a little bit as Revan goes on about similar conflicts that happened nearly four-thousand years ago. He’s certainly not surprised the Sith were the people to not screw with, but the similarities between the Sith and Galactic empires is something too convenient for him to just shrug off as coincidence, unless Palpatine had far better access to historical records than anybody else. Really, he probably did knowing the countless hideouts he had lying around.

“Every established power that rises up has to come down one of these days.” He finally comments, giving a shrug. “It’d be hubris to assume the Republic was gonna last forever, much less an Empire anyways.” Kyle adds, a warning tone almost directed towards Juno. No way is he going to spill the beans on what happened over Endor’s moon to her like this, at least not now. Still, he can remind her that getting cocky isn’t always the smartest idea.

“No side’s on the side of saints, not entirely. Sometimes it’s outta desperation, to stay active and alive while trying to get one up on the other guy. Other times, complacency. The Jedi of the Old Republic got the wool pulled over their eyes because they’d been too used to peacetime, that when war broke out…” He gives Juno a significant glance. Surely she’s aware of some of the details behind the Empire’s rise.

Jan is next to speak up, and she gives both Kyle and and Lowri a glance. “And to be frank, the Order needed a kick in the ass anyways. Swiping kids away from their families, bringing them up to be emotionally stunted, and expecting everyone of ‘em to go along with it? Not right if you ask me.” Shrug. “I mean, hell, for the longest time I grew up thinking Jedi were just a myth core-worlders spouted out about when they traded stories with patrons in places just like this. Guess you can imagine how wrong I was.”

The agent just takes another swig of ale, before flashing a grin, only her eyes don’t exactly imply much cheer out of it given the topic. “But hey, I fix engines and fly ships. Hell do I know about all this stuff?”

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
There is a certain similarity between the former Sith Lord and the Imperial pilot. Most of the time, Juno would be more diplomatic than she is today, especially with the tension of the situation. Physical misery has a way of blunting her normal inhibitions or cautions. No doubt she's found some means by which to justify more caustic conduct. Much like the pale-haired Jedi, some part of her is grateful for a good opponent.

A factory, manufacturing battleships? That's an interesting detail to note, but one that Juno ultimately decides not to comment on. It's true that she could pass that information on to Starkiller, or to Darth Vader himself – but ultimately, she does not care enough to further Imperial goals.

So it would seem there is a spark of light in this careful, guarded woman; she who belongs to something that is probably not wholly unlike the Sith Empire.

Instead, she takes in Revan's explanation with her head tilted down, eyes similarly downcast. So long as her mind is kept busy with these snippets of new information, of the mental battle that is staying on her guard and revealing as little as possible to these strangers, she can forget for a few moments how miserably cold and wet she is; can forget that Galen and PROXY are outside, can forget that she would never make it to the ship if she sprinted as fast as she could, if this Jedi turned hostile.

She shifts her weight uncomfortably, as though she could will away the cold and the wet. She does not like showing vulnerability.

When Revan questions her on her service, the woman looks up sharply. There's something that hovers around the edge of her, rippling through the Force – it's hard to say what it is, though. Fear? Anger? Shock? Worry? And beneath it, an undercurrent of something that seems strange. Love.

The last is but a brief flicker, and stifled so quickly and viciously that, if not for the intricacies of the Force or the surety of so many Jedi who seem to claim the use of it, it may have been imagined.

What an interesting answer; albeit one that the Imperial never puts to words. Her emotions, and that fleeting instant of unguarded eyes, speak more loudly for her than words.

And then the mask is in place, slammed down like the portcullis of a castle; cold hard iron.

There are several things she wants to say. Because it's all I've ever known. But that would be a lie, and Juno Eclipse does not like to lie. Because I have worked too hard for what I have, and I don't want to give that up. Truth, perhaps, although there are days when something about it rings hollow. Because I can't quit. There is no doubting the truth in that, but it is not the entire truth, either. Not enough to satisfy her.

Because I love him. But she would never say that. It is her most closely-guarded secret; the source of that flicker of affection one or both of the Jedi may have noticed, and something she viciously quells.

For a brief instant, Juno's mind is a rush of panicked grasping at straws.

She finds one.

"That's personal," she snaps instead, lifting her chin a little higher as though in defiance. But she does not rebel; she does not push too hard beyond the vehemence of her answer. She huddles in on herself, shivering, retreating back into her corner. It isn't until the cold wall presses into her shoulder that she realises she has nowhere else to retreat to.

That reaction, too, is more suggestive than words alone.

Somebody hit a nerve.

Juno seems aware of the force of her words only after a few seconds more pass, the roar of the rain outside and the creak of cheap furniture marking the time. She lowers her head, slightly, still watching the others.

"I did not say that the Empire was founded in darkness and oppression." Even if it is, she wants to say. She bites back the afterthought.

Although she doesn't move, Juno retreats into miserable silence for a few seconds. She did not come here to have her motives questioned. That isn't a subject she's comfortable discussing with very many people. Oh, she's aware that she's done terrible things. Hardly a night goes by when she doesn't relive that fateful run over Callos' vibrant surface, forested canopy flickering by below her TIE fighter. Hardly a night goes by when she doesn't heed the sick, cold feeling in her gut, looking back as her starfighter streaks past, understanding dawning on her at the fatal chain reaction unfolding before her horrified eyes.

But she is not evil. Even Vader acknowledged that by reassigning her to the Rogue Shadow. He knew she lacked those essential qualities of cruelty and ruthlessness for leading the Black Eights.

Probabilities and statistics. Given the last seven pilots' performance, she should be dead by now. Yes, the missions are difficult for Starkiller, too, but it takes a top-notch pilot to stay alive doing what they're doing; to remain undiscovered by target and ally both. It takes nerves of steel to fly a ship like the Rogue Shadow, so advanced, so casually forging into the mysteries of hyperspace jumping. And it takes a sharp mind to perform those calculations as faithfully as any navigational computer, to do them quickly, and accurately.

Was it a promotion? Or was it a punishment? A test?

Probabilities.

Statistics.

She'll never know, will she?

Her eyes dim in the shadows. She shoves the memory and the spiralling logic away and forcefully returns her attention to the situation in front of her. Don't do that again, Eclipse, she warns herself. Galen can't come to her rescue, and some part of her would feel sick for calling to him for help.

Juno Eclipse does not like showing vulnerability.

Almost reluctantly, she tears her eyes away from the Jedi, gaze flicking in Kyle's direction. "Did I ever say the Republic was going to last forever? In case you forgot, allow me to remind you that the Republic fell nineteen – or seventeen – years ago." Time is a slippery thing in the Multiverse. "I would hardly call that invulnerable. Few things are a constant." Gravity, maybe. Stars. The knowledge that she'll need to drag her tired body into the cockpit just one more time; guide Starkiller to kill just one more Jedi, just one more Union target.

Shivering and wrapping her her arms around herself, leaning slightly into the corner, Juno mumbles under her breath. "I wouldn't believe in saints, anyway." Nothing is that cut and dry. Nothing in her life has ever been, so why would she have reason to believe that it would anywhere else? Things were cut and dry, once, and she was made to see just how much of a lie that was.

She pushes away the memory of her father's hawk-like face; the stark disapproval when she achieved anything less than perfect in her scores. Of course, he had never acknowledged the scores that were perfect. He had become a stranger after her mother's death. It had been cut and dry, for a time. Her world had been stable in that much. If she performed well enough, he might view her with the same pride that he reserved for the proud Imperial military officers. Eventually she had exposed the lie; that her efforts would never be enough. When she left for the academy at Corulag, she had – at least in her mind – disowned him.

Even her faith in the Empire had been stable, for a time. Nothing had ever happened directly to her, of course. She continued to serve, to prove her competency, and so she was permitted to continue living and serving. But she is unique amongst the Imperial rank and file. Her sense of morality is not so damaged; not so degraded. Even she must eventually take notice that the missions they do seem petty, at best; the taking of lives for no more than politics.

Juno gives a short, sharp sigh.

Clear mind, she tells herself. Lightning. Think of the Materia, the practise exercises she uses, the dulling of everything but herself and her objective. Galen uses meditation. He hasn't had the opportunity to teach her that, yet, so she uses her own razor-sharp focus as a substitute.

Kyle alludes to the origins of the Empire, and the wet, miserable, uniformed woman wedged into the corner only snorts. Oh, she knows vaguely of Order 66. She had been very young, though, if alive at all; she had researched briefly on the subject, spurred by curiosity from her father's raw hatred of the Jedi. What did they do? she had asked him, one day, as a child. His answer – that they had betrayed the Empire – had been unsatisfactory. It still is, even today.

"I suppose that's something we can both agree on," Juno finally concedes, to Jan. "Something neither of us know much about."

Her eyes turn back to the other two, even more guarded and wary than they had been before.

Juno Eclipse does not like feeling like she's backed into a corner, literally or figuratively. Yes, she is literally standing in a corner, but that isn't what rankles her so much. That Revan had so easily and casually struck a nerve, and that she had not recovered from it with sufficient speed – that bothers her. It bothers her especially knowing that Revan is a Jedi.

And so she waits in guarded, wary silence to see what her impromptu conversation partners will do or say.

Revan (414) has posed:
Revan had heard a similar perspective to Kyle's when Jolee had cautioned against thinking that a war is the most important war just because one was involved in it. She had suspected that he and Carth were talking about two different things when the latter took offence to the idea that Malak hadn't really needed to be stopped, though that hadn't been what the old Jedi had been saying.She had understood; it was a more practical way of presenting the same warnings the Masters had given her against guarding against pride. It hadn't really made much sense until Jolee had said much the same thing, and had the added weight of real-world experience.

Perhaps this was why she respected him and treated "Old Bindo" as a Master; he had seen the universe with his own eyes, and it had shaped his – admittedly, rather snarky – wisdom. And it very much was traditional Jedi wisdom, even if the Consular made a show of denying it.

But she was a soldier just as Carth was – or rather, she had believed she was – and agreed with his perspective that the Republic was something that needed to be defended. Not as just another organisation, but as the only viable alternative to an oppressive society in which the strong crushed the weak for the sake of power. It had existed for so long that it seemed to be a universal constant, but the reason she and Carth and countless others believed in it was what it stood for. If something better replaced the Republic, she would gladly throw her support behind that. "The Republic I know was founded over 24 thousand years ago...it's easy to lose a little perspective when something has been around that long," was all she said out loud, however.

"And then there are times when the Jedi are over-cautious, too slow to come to the aid of people suffering simply because they're sacrificing them simply to root out a bigger threat, and because they didn't want to be involved in another war so soon after a previous one." Though she kept her voice and expression even, there was a dangerous undercurrent.Yes, Revan still very much disapproved of the Council's sluggish reaction all those years ago. Preservation of the Republic was one thing, but it had appalled her that the Council had been willing to tolerate the genocide of the Cathar for the sake of waiting until the greater threat emerged.

Mismatched eyes flared briefly as one of those hidden memories suddenly emerged without warning: she remembered feeling furious, all but accusing the Masters of hypocrisy for claiming that a Jedi's first duty was to protect the weak and innocent and yet meditating while they neglected that very duty. Was it all empty platitudes, then? What could they possibly accomplish by letting people die when they had the power to do so? Letting a person suffer while standing by and merely letting it happen was a path down the Dark Side for a single Padawan; why was it different for a Master to essentially do the same?

But then again...she ended up being no better, sacrificing certain worlds to trap the Mandalorians. Revan had had to essentially become one of them herself to understand their thinking and anticipate their tactics. While a people cannot be entirely Light-sided or Dark-sided, the Mandalorian aspirations for honour through battle had made them pretty much entirely the latter.

Instead, Lowri mentally shook it off and brought herself back to the present, but filed away that necessary memory for later. She would need them, all of them, even the unpleasant ones.

She found that she certainly didn't disagree with Jan, either. "Or, for that matter, eschewing attachments. Perhaps the wisest Jedi I've known said that 'Love will save you, not condemn you.' And it's very true."

She smiled slightly with a slight chuckle to herself, her gaze turning inward for a brief moment. Jolee would no doubt rib her good for parroting him here – and calling him the wisest Jedi she had ever known – but it was true.

Mentioning the Star Forge would have been unwise...had the station not been sabotaged and disintegrated when it fell into the star it was harvesting. Revan and her companions, as she recalled, had barely escaped before the Rakatan station became space dust.She certainly wasn't going to mention that; a wild goose chase for the last great invention of the Infinite Empire could tie up an enemy's resources indefinitely. Not to mention that several of the Star Maps needed to pinpoint its location above Rakata Prime – if the planet had been lost again – had likewise been permanently deactivated. Still, in the Force, the impossible became possible. She would have to keep a proverbial eye out, just in case.

As Juno snapped, guarding at personal information, Lowri held up her hands. "It's fine, believe me, I understand. Those are certainly better reasons than siding with what looks like the winning side or because people need to be ruled with an iron fist."

But she did narrow down Juno's motivations a bit; she was more than likely dealing with someone with at least a lick of honour than someone merely following orders or outright evil. Naturally, she couldn't merely assume someone was of the Dark Side simply because of who he or she chose to align with. Her own mask had come from a Mandalorian who had stood up against mindless slaughter and paid the ultimate price for it, after all.

Some Jedi used the Force to read emotions. Revan didn't need to. It was a little ironic,she thought, that some Jedi had become so fearful of the potential of falling to the Dark Side that they had tried to separate themselves from emotions nearly completely...and then needed the Force to understand emotions all over again. And yet, using the Force in such a way could likewise lead to the Dark Side, anyway. Sometimes, you just outsmarted yourself. She trusted in the Force, but the Force seemed to be much more powerful as a guide than as a source of power. Complementing her natural gifts with its wisdom appeared to provide the best results.

Such as when the Imperial pilot's mask dropped for a split second. The Force heightened her senses, made her more aware of her surroundings, so she caught the change. Her natural intuition, however, took over. Yet, the Guardian said nothing. Only her eyes reflected the sudden understanding she gained, along with...empathy?

Kyle Katarn (778) has posed:
Lowri isn’t the only one who’s getting a bit of a look into Juno’s mind either. Kyle’s sensing isn’t as acute as Lowri’s, given how his experience with the Force is paltry next to the Jedi-turned-Sith-turned-AtThisPointStopAskingAndGoWithIt. However, it doesn’t take a master empath to know that Juno’s opinion of the two mercs who know this random Jedi isn’t exactly high. Just as well, given how her reaction to running into one Jedi so far was comparable to an iraz in the headlights at the moment. He’s lucky Juno hasn’t exactly brought Starkiller up, otherwise there would be that hanging dread in the air if/when the Inquisitor bursts in, sees Lowri and Kyle, and things get a little bloody.

So he just shrugs a shoulder as the Imperial lashes at him again, him and Jan both letting Lowri handle most of the talking.

There’s something about learning firsthand at what the Jedi order were like before the Empire came about, Palpatine’s for those at home, that doesn’t quite surprise him and yet he can’t help but feel disappointed on some level. Like Lowri said, it’s hard to keep perspective when one’s lasted several thousand years. The Jedi Order he’s used to has been filled with force sensitive youths forming a rag-tag band. Even Luke Skywalker, quite possibly one of the most gifted Jedi in a long, long time, for lack of others comparable or even alive, had little formal training.

Maybe that’s why Luke’s Order has gotten slightly better traction. Quite a few of the Praxeum’s members were former military or at least people who were used to how bad things in the Outer Rim could get. The old Order meanwhile threw orphans and children raised in a temple and tutored with little outside and social contact.

The new breed know how bad things can get, not unlike Jedi such as Jolee or Lowri. They know the stakes and why they exist, and they know how people work...sort of. Kyle was a late-bloomer when he became a Jedi, and despite that he’s proven to be almost on equal level to Luke when they fought side by side aboard the Doomgiver against Dessan’s assassins.

Call it killer instinct, call it just plain luck, whatever it is, Kyle’s something else. The reason losses on the Praxuem’s end was due to inexperience in heavy combat on some of the raws. Those who made it might not have been properly trained yet, but they were capable of holding their own through grit.

And that is no small feat. Dessan’s men either had raw power on their side, or got good through experience doing their master’s bidding. He did not make a show of recruiting weaklings, Kyle imagined. The experience he had going through their numbers spoke for that more than any boasts they issued could. Those who boasted were often sloppy and arrogant, the rest were far nastier prey.

“Ain’t right.” Kyle says in response to Lowri. “All that’s necessary for evil to triumph, is for good men to do nothing.” He quotes. Something he read while browsing Njorun’s library. “Sometimes, even if you’re going to end up battered for it, you gotta stand up for the little guy, the people looking up to you to protect them. To be honest, I can’t imagine working for any organization that can do that. If people are in trouble, and helping them’s not only possible, but probably advantageous, do what you can.”

Scoffing, Kyle’s already got some words to share with Skywalker one of these days.

Meanwhile, Jan seems to have grown silent again. Either the topic’s gone way over her head, or she’s just content to let the three discuss among themselves. So she taps the bar counter for a moment. “Recaff for the lady. She’s still gotta be freezing.”

The barkeeper just looks at Jan, then at the still-probably-soaked Imperial for a moment. “...yeesh, yeah, no kidding. Comin’ right up.”

Probably not the best idea to give a fellow pilot something that’d make even looking straight a problem, so the next best thing will have to do.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Juno seems content to avoid the topic of empires and politics, having said her piece. It's a subject that still strikes too close to home for her. It forces her to question things she would sooner not question; not because she doesn't know the answer, but precisely because she knows the answer. She is not wholly comfortable serving the Empire, and has not been since the Bombing of Callos. Only one thing still binds her to service, and it isn't the pride she used to take in her work.

Putting down a rebellion is one thing, and it is an understandable motivation, but what happened on Callos was genocide. It is an act that even now, years later, she still struggles to make peace with.

Her eyes narrow very slightly at Revan's reactions. While she has no Force sensitivity to fall back on, Juno certainly has a knack for reading people. She's had to rely on more mundane talents, and one does not get ahead in the Galactic Empire without having some skill in reading others. Without that, her career and her life would have ended in failure before it had ever began.

So, she listens to the others debate the ways of the Jedi, and the nature of Empires, and huddles in her corner. Her arms are still wrapped tightly around herself, and she's still shivering; still cold, wet, and thoroughly miserable.

Part of her is tempted to walk away from this gathering while she still can, and crawl to her quarters aboard the Rogue Shadow, wrap herself up in a blanket, and sleep until she stops feeling saturated. Sadly, that isn't an option. She retires the thought somewhat wistfully.

She does watch Revan thoughtfully when she gives her second-hand advice. Those ice-blue eyes seem to be studying the Jedi, narrowing her eyes in contemplation. Perhaps they're not so different as she might have thought. That hardly makes her a friend, nor someone she can trust, but it is something to think about, later, when her efforts at remaining diplomatic aren't quite so desperate.

Juno bites back the urge to say something unkind when Revan raises her hands, but the Jedi seems to accept her explanation, and she can't help but feel relief that the other woman doesn't pry.

Had she not been looking at Revan when the other gave that empathic look, she would have missed it entirely. Again Juno finds herself withdrawing, feeling something cold coiling in the pit of her stomach. Revan's expression was one of understanding. Of knowing. Just what did she find out? With conscious effort, Juno pushes away her growing unease.

One thing at a time. Juno forces herself to ignore that revelation for the moment.

Shivering, she looks over to Kyle when he speaks, narrowing her eyes. While it's rarely so simple, so black and white, she resists the urge to comment. It won't get her anywhere, and she finds herself mistrusting this mercenary as much as the Jedi. Mercenaries have never exactly been upstanding sorts, from all that she's ever heard.

She does hear Jan order her a drink. Considering she's cold, wet, and looking miserable, she decides it's not worth arguing too much over. The caffa's most likely a trivial expense in a place like this, anyway. And it isn't alcoholic.

For good measure, Juno reaches back and wrings her hair out one more time.

The resultant puddle only makes her mutter something under her breath; uncouth, by the tone she takes.

"Thanks." She is, at least, polite. Nominally. She isn't at her best right now, and she's not going to apologise over growing a bit short with them. Instead, she trudges past Revan, Kyle, and Jan both; plopping down (with a dishearteningly wet sound as her clothing settles) into a chair at one of the nearby tables. Folding her arms over the top of the table, she watches the others from under the shadow of her still-wet hair.

Juno doesn't say anything, just yet. She just watches Revan. Her wary, almost unblinking regard probably suggests she noticed that empathic look, and she's not sure she likes the idea of it. Despite her obvious tension, though, she conducts herself well. One wouldn't know it by looking at her, save perhaps the hard lines of her neck and shoulders, or the way she can't seem to tear her gaze away from Revan or Kyle.

After a few seconds, she makes a resigned flick of one hand to indicate the other chairs at the table. They might as well sit down, too. They'd probably do it anyway.

Revan (414) has posed:
There were a number of things that the Order did that Revan felt were in need of some tweaking. While she was hardly a Master and still fairly young by Jedi standards, there were some things that even a simpleton could see were clearly not working. Those within the Order were somewhat blinded to its faults simply by being unable to take a step back and realign their perspective a little.Some seemed to believe that the resentment some non-Jedi had towards the Order was from a lack of understanding, but that was the same arrogance the Masters lectured endlessly about. The truth was that sometimes, these non-Jedi understood all too well.

And even she had to constantly check herself from assuming that someone's opposite perspective wasn't out of mere ignorance. It was hard for her to admit what she was about to say, given that she still had something of that pride problem. "The war with Exar Kun..." she paused, remembering that this was another Sith Lord probably lost to the passage of time. "...That is, a Jedi who had fallen to the Dark Side and waged a pretty vicious war about 34 years ago. It was costly, to say the least, and the Council was also reluctant, I think, to throw the Jedi into the middle of another war so soon after another. Still..."

And here was where she had to admit she might have acted too hastily. "The main reason, I think, was whatever is out in the Unknown Regions. There was something manipulating the Mandalorians, they weren't wrong about that. We could all feel it, but the Masters seemed to be trying to narrow down where it was coming from." Revan shook her head before wringing out the thick braid of white-blonde hair and flicking it behind her back. "I think...we were right about one thing and wrong about the other.The people on the Outer Rim shouldn't be sacrificed even to fight a greater evil, but there were better ways to approach the problem, in hindsight."

I don't believe in fighting battles I don't need to. She had said that over the radio once, but it wasn't the first time she had voiced that practical approach.Another fleeting memory...and the Guardian couldn't help but feel a slight chill when those words were spoken from beneath a black hood and behind a Mandalorian mask. Jedi avoided conflict simply because aggression was a quick trip down the path to the Dark Side, but as a Dark Lord, she could imagine that doing so would have been a waste of effort and resources that were better spent on the unavoidable ones.

Frustratingly, her amnesia prevented her from remembering why it was that she created a new Sith Empire and attacked the Republic in the first place upon their return. If she was the same person at her core, she wasn't entirely convinced it was power for the sake of power. The Revanchists left immediately for unknown space, intent on addressing that unknown evil the Council was trying to find. But even years spent in meditation could not have prepared the Jedi for...whatever it was they had found out there.

And the pilot was still on edge. Not that it was surprising, really. The Guardian hadn't especially meant to tip her proverbial Pazaak hand in not controlling her expression; she tended to go a little soft when it came to thinking about Carth, Bastila, Juhani, Mission, Zaalbar, and Jolee. Carth especially, these days...she couldn't deny that she missed him terribly. But she was neither willing to risk his life on some dangerous unknown, nor was she willing to deprive the Republic of one of its top brass. Especially one with his quick wits, nimble reactions, and possible slight Force sensitivity. As she had told him once when he tried to pass it off as paranoia, Captain Onasi, if there is anything at all that I have learned, it's that every time you have one of these 'paranoid' moments of yours, it means I need to shut up and pay attention.

What was a little bit surprising, however, was the subtle invitation. Lowri was dropping a lot of information into her lap, certainly, useless though most of it probably was. In truth, there wasn't much that she needed to keep hidden, though she was not about to go announcing to all and sundry that she was a redeemed Lord of the Sith whose Empire only ended when she defeated her former apprentice and helped the Republic bring the whole thing down. Nevertheless, she imagined "Blackout" was, if nothing else, curious to hear more.

Slipping off her soaked outer robe and folding it over her arm, the Jedi made her way over, slipping into the closest seat and awaited Juno's next move. She almost regretted not having a Pazaak deck...but that would just cause everyone more frustration. Instead, she thought of a question, though she imagined she wasn't going to get a straight answer, if at all.

"So, where did you learn how to fly like that, if you don't mind my asking?"

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Having sat herself down at the table, Juno folds her arms over it, hunching a bit to try and conserve what little warmth she has left. She's still cold, and lacking any dry clothing or warmer garments is steadily driving up her irritation levels. Nobody likes being stuck in cold, wet clothing. The only real bright side she can think of is that her misery is keeping her alert, to a certain extent.

It is possible that these strangers may have good intentions, but she can't afford to trust them. She wouldn't even if she had the peace of mind of having Galen here. She can't afford to let her guard down among people who may well turn out to be enemies, further down the line.

There's no telling whether or not Galen might be instructed to hunt this Jedi down.

Even so, she listens carefully to Revan's tale. She absorbs the details, even if she doesn't understand the relevance of them all. The Jedi are a relatively unknown factor in her time; besides that, working for the Empire makes it difficult to find information on them. There is the risk of false information, and also of drawing suspicion on herself for asking too many questions.

That habit has gotten her into no small amount of trouble. She's always been cursed with an inquisitive mind, and a strong will to match it. Perhaps that's why she had managed to get so far in the Imperial hierarchy in spite of being a woman. Juno simply cannot abide unsatisfactory answers.

It's a trait that probably worked Galen's last nerve when they'd first met. He had no intention of revealing anything about himself or his work to her, and she had, as usual, refused to take that at face value. Part of her is glad for that. Had she not poked and pried and prodded and tested the very limits of his patience, they never would have grown any closer than the facade of the carefully professional relationship they maintain in front of others.

Juno carefully keeps her face neutral; carefully attempts to let her mind go blank.

No. She's not going to give anything away to this Jedi. Not about that. She can't afford to give away those details to anyone, not even her own allies. Not even PROXY, although the affable droid may have his suspicions. She hopes he doesn't.

No; it's too dangerous, both to Galen and to herself. They had agreed to secrecy a long time ago. It was safer for both of them that way.

Instead, she watches Revan as she herself to a seat beside her. Juno bristles slightly at having the Jedi so close, but rather than comment on it, she opts to stay outwardly calm. There's no sense in rocking the proverbial boat; the situation is tense enough.

She desperately doesn't want this to turn hostile. Some subconscious part of her likes Revan, and it would be a shame to call Galen in. Following that scenario to its natural conclusion would be grim. There would be no survivors, in her mind, save for herself and Galen.

The other strangers in the cantina don't deserve that. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time would be their only crime, and Juno hardly sees the sense in that. She lacks the ruthlessness of many of her Imperial fellows.

Juno swallows hard and tries to focus her attention. Her eyes are calculating when she looks back to Revan; the flicker of movement as the other woman removes her soaked outer robe draws her attention. The Imperial pilot, sadly, does not have the luxury of removing any outer layer. Her officer's uniform is thin enough to remind her that she's going to need to knuckle down and rifle through the Rogue Shadow's medical supplies later. If she can find something strong enough, she might be able to stave off the effects of any lurking illness from this escapade.

Her mood sours a little at the potentiality. A black-ops pilot like her can't exactly take sick leave. Not unless she's ordered off of active duty, which... is not entirely out of the question, actually. That would be just as humiliating, though. Fortunately Revan's inquiry is enough to derail that unpleasant line of thought. She considers the question carefully.

Well, she's already explained that she belongs to an Empire of some sort, although its nature and specifics were somewhat glossed over. Surely telling her about her training wouldn't be too much a breach of orders. The millenia-long gap between their timelines is a convenient excuse. Juno's own records have probably been sealed, along with her reassignment, although she's never had the courage to check what those records might have to say about Callos.

Juno sighs and puts her head down on her folded arms, though her eyes are still alert.

"The Imperial Academy. There are quite a few of those in the Core Worlds, but the one I attended was on my home planet. I took the relevant courses and learned to fly small craft there." She doesn't specify bombers or stealth starfighters. A faint smirk flickers across her face. "Oh, it rankled them that a woman could learn to do that better than half the men. I preferred not to boast, of course. Better to show them by example. They were quite angry when I continued to rise in the ranks even as they floundered; recruited because of their connections, and often their money, rather than their skill."

Those ice-blue eyes flick to Revan, and the smirk fades. "I can't be much more specific than that. You understand, I hope."

Revan (414) has posed:
The other blonde was clearly miserable in the cold, wet clothing, and Lowri would have offered something warmer and drier...but she was in the same predicament herself. Indeed, even Jedi and Sith didn't enjoy being stuck in such conditions, either. She had plenty of extra supplies back on the Ebon Hawk, but "Blackout" probably had some already as well back on her own ship. So they were both stuck here, cold and wet, waiting the deluge out, though that discomfort was not without its advantages. It fended off the fatigue that could accompany being stuck inside in the middle of a deluge like this one, keeping her alert.

And she needed to be. Some Jedi – and many Sith, for that matter – tended to underestimate those who were not Force-sensitive or possessed very little Force sensitivity. Revan knew better. While she carefully maintained her somewhat friendly demeanour, she remained cautions, studious...watching for the subtle signs of breaking through the mask without revealing too much behind her own, and only what she wanted the other woman to see.

The Guardian didn't mind giving what was in her galaxy largely common information. There was, of course, the danger that the Imperial would take this information to her superiors, something Revan treated as a given. However, the two women were far more alike than either of them realised. Whatever information Juno could provide was probably just as useless to the former Sith Lord as hers was to the Imperial pilot. And yet...she simply had to know, just for the sake of knowing. She had been much more unhappy with the blithe, pat answer she had been given about the nature of the multiverse: just accept it. That was one thing Revan could never do, not in a million years. The Force was a mystery which called to her to study it, understand it, and even question it. The Masters listened to it, but she believed that this mysterious will wanted there to be a two-way conversation. The Force didn't want to just issue orders and snippets of the future or truth.The Jedi believed it wanted to be understood.

And then, there was her inquisitiveness about more mundane things, which she pursued with as much enthusiasm. Her curiosity hadn't gotten her into too much trouble just yet, but it did make for some awkward social situations where Lowri's charm would have smoothed it over. Yet, she couldn't help herself: questioning was an impulsive action, one that had caused the Masters to reexamine it in hindsight as signs of potential trouble. She hungered for knowledge, no matter what form it took. The mysteries of the Force, the inner workings of a droid, the movement of the systems and planets through space, the different forms of lightsaber combat...she wanted to learn it all, even if it took her entire life.

And yet, she still had a mission to complete.

Frowning slightly at the robe folded over her arm – which had done little to mitigate the cold and wet as the garb underneath it was nearly as wet and cold – she seemed to muse out loud, "I'd offer my coat, but it's not in any better shape than what you're in right now." With a slightly dramatic sigh, she added, "I don't suppose there's a fire or something warm to stand next to around here..."

So there were Imperial worlds now in the Core, Lowri mused. She remained unsure about the precise nature of this future Empire; they didn't call themselves Sith, that much she had gathered. Kyle had mentioned it in the past tense, something that no longer existed in his own timeline. From what she could gather, he was in Juno's future, just as the both of them were in hers. One would think that had given them distinct advantages over each other...and yet the past seemed to be as mysterious as the future.

Someone really needs to come up with a better way of recording history.

But at Juno's smirk, she couldn't help but return it, though it wasn't something she had particularly intended to let slip. Oh, the Jedi certainly treated women as equals, and there was no differences at all in how they were trained. All were equal in the Force. Yet, beyond the walls of the academy on Dantooine, and the temple at Coruscant, there were all manner of injustices. Humans looked down on non-humans, the wealthy nobles of Taris drove the poor and the non-human to the Lower City and the outcasts to the rakghoul-infested Undercity. And men treated women as lesser humans. Carth had made snide comments at first, but she learned later that it wasn't a reflection of his true nature. But she couldn't say the same of the many men in the galaxy – Republic or Sith – who simply could not fathom that a powerful Jedi, a master of strategy, and a fearsome Dark Lord of the Sith could be a weak woman. While she had hardly been through the same hardships that the Grey Falcon's pilot had been through, she knew it wasn't easy to rise through ranks as a female.

And Revan found herself respecting this mysterious, aloof woman even more. But she didn't have to say any more; she was far too good of a pilot to be simply a shuttle flyer, and not with the craft she flew. Perhaps she had become a smuggler, fed up with the stupidity and injustices, perhaps passed over for promotion for some fool with connections and money yet little military ability. Perhaps her secretive nature was due to being on the run from Imperials hunting a deserter. But Revan doubted this was the case. No, there was too much of a military bearing to simply cast aside, a bearing she had seen countless times before. A soldier was a soldier until the end...even if there seemed to be something else sealing her loyalty...or rather, someone.

Lowri shrugged with a slight smile. "It's just casual conversation...there's no obligation to talk about things we don't want to talk about."

The tall blonde settled back into her chair, crossing her left leg over her right, leaning on her elbow and propping her chin with her open palm. She might have seemed more like an inquisitive girl rather than a Jedi with mystical powers, to some. "To tell you the truth, I don't remember where I'm from. As you now know, the Jedi take children early in life and train them at the Academy. That's the only real home I've ever known."

She did, naturally, leave out the part about being brainwashed by the Council where she couldn't even remember growing up on Dantooine. And anything else leading up to waking up to a Sith attack on the Endar Spire. It was a long story, anyway.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Despite her misery, the blonde must have some measure of pride left to her. She doesn't ask for help. The only real concession she's given is to lead them to a table and plunk herself down in a chair, shivering. Maybe she's stubborn, or maybe she just doesn't want to draw attention to herself. That doesn't narrow down the options, though. Whether smuggler or intelligence officer, or fugitive or rebel, such behavioural patterns could fit any of those roles.

Where the Force was concerned, it may be that 'Blackout' subtly encourages that underestimation. True, she is absolutely not on the level of the Jedi or the Sith, and even Starkiller could obliterate her defenses if he cared to – but she is intelligent, and she's very good at thinking on her feet when she needs to.

She also has excellent survival instincts. One has to, if one expects to survive the rigours of serving the Imperial Navy.

Juno has, by this point, come to the decision that Aquilaris is a miserable puddle of a planet that she's never coming back to, and if she ever needs to take Starkiller here, she's going to dump him while she waits in orbit. Never setting foot on this backwater puddle ever again. That galvanised thought cheers her, however fleeting the satisfaction from it might be.

"No. Even if it weren't in just as bad a state as I am, I'll be alright. I've survived worse than this." It's a little hard to imagine that, with how bedraggled the blonde pilot looks. She shakes her head, raking her fingers through her soaked hair. "I appreciate the offer, though."

Reaching up to rub at her face, Juno pushes her streaming hair away from her eyes, blowing a sigh out and huddling in on herself.

It isn't too long before a cup of caffa is delivered to the table, thanks to Jan's considerate offer. Juno wraps her fingers around the cup, hunching around it as though she could draw in its warmth by sheer force of will. Breathing in the steam, the soothing sensation seems to calm her somewhat – at least, enough that she isn't quite as on edge as she was. She seems just slightly more inclined to listen, and not snap at her impromptu conversational partners.

Slightly.

"Mmh." It's a sound that's too tired and miserable to be properly annoyed, given in agreement to Lowri's insistence that they don't need to skirt uncomfortable topics.

After a few seconds, Juno risks a sip, hissing irritably when it only earns her a burnt tongue. Right, then. That kind of an evening, is it? Excellent, she thinks sourly.

She glances back Lowri's way, seemingly not quite certain what to make of her casual posture. For a Jedi, she isn't particularly calm or centred as she had expected. Hadn't she heard somewhere that the Jedi Order promotes tranquility and all that rot? This one hardly seems to fit the bill. They must have changed dramatically over the years. Idly, she wonders what might have brought about such a thing.

"I'm sorry." The sentiment seems genuine. To not know where one comes from is not a very heartening thought. Her own origins are less than encouraging to Juno herself, but at least she knows where she's from; even if she would never go back there willingly. "My childhood wasn't exactly fun, but at least I knew where I'm from..."

She can't help a brief memory of her father – hawk-like visage stern and disapproving. It had been another fruitless argument; another circuitous argument about some inconsequential thing or another. Maybe it was the argument she'd had with him before she had finally turned her back on the man, leaving for the Corulag Academy, never to return home.

Sometimes she wonders what happened to him.

Most of the time, she doesn't want to know.

After blowing on the caffa for a few seconds, Juno takes a measured sip, her calm exterior never betraying the turmoil just below the surface.

Still hunched over in very un-military posture, the woman watches Revan warily. At least she seems to be warming up to Revan, if only slightly; both figuratively and literally. Most of the time, she has better sense than to be curt and defensive.

She risks a brief smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Alright, then. Let's try another question, shall we? Where did you learn to fly like that? It may be I could have left you behind in those rocks, but you kept up pretty well. I didn't have to babysit you nearly as much as I'd thought I would..." She swills her cup around a little before taking another sip. "I wouldn't have expected that ship to get through in one relative piece, either."

Revan (414) has posed:
As much as the Masters (not to mention many others) cautioned against pride, Lowri preferred to think of what she had as "maintaining one's dignity". Even before Jolee had cautioned her on it, before Master Vrook had lectured her on it, before Bastila had needled her on it, she had never put much stock in her supposed "great destiny". Certainly, she had ultimately defeated Malak, but she never would have so much as gotten off of Taris without the help of everyone else. Actually...she probably wouldn't even be alive at all had it not been for Bastila and Carth. Maybe Bastila was right, that she had indeed been the catalyst for the events to come, but the Jedi tended to think of herself more as a member of that rag-tag team than a Hero with an entourage. It might have been the false memories she had been brainwashed with, or – what was far more likely – she always regarded herself as a mere soldier and those false memories were simply the most believable ones they could come up with given her natural personality. Pride in her destiny was never something she particularly put much faith in.

On the other hand, Revan sure was quick to throw herself to the wolves without dragging anyone else down with her. She wasn't about to pull Mission and Zaalbar out of their new lives, or drag Carth away from his duties, or impugn the standing of Jedi of her former team. She would even leave Canderous behind, when the time came. All of them would have followed her down her new path in a heartbeat. She wasn't about to ask that of them, after all the sacrifices they had made. She couldn't ask them to corrupt themselves as she had. At least...that's what she might have done. Lowri wasn't sure.

Underestimation, a powerful weapon, one that Revan employed often. There were times, of course, where revealing her real identity was either necessary or else the best option at the time. Kyle had found out by "accident" – being in the right place at the right time thanks to the will of the Force – and had ended up fighting her thinking she was a Sith. That had been the idea, though she had expected to encounter Sith rather than a lone fellow Jedi...and not that the Sith hadn't come knocking, anyway. The only part of that little encounter that ended poorly was the fact that she hadn't learned anything about her own situation. What she did learn was that her galaxy was no longer self-contained.

Which brought her to the current semi-stand-off. She could only take the "mmh" as an agreement...she'd have to pay attention to where the verbal mines were. That alone would tell her at least a little of what she'd have been poking around for, anyway.

Of course, Lowri wasn't about to get into the long, boring explanation of just how different she was...or, for that matter, her previous travelling/battle companions. Juhani was Cathar, with all of their hot-bloodedness to go along with it, and her constant struggle to reign in her anger even where an otherwise clam species would be hard-pressed to maintain self control. Her hero-worship of Revan had been a cause for concern, but she seemed to have adjusted well enough. Jolee might have seemed to fit the bill on the surface, but after a few moments of speaking with him would disabuse anyone of the notion and lead them to an equally inaccurate assessment that he was just a crotchety old man. That had been a facade the old Jedi had worked hard to cultivate. And then there was Bastila, who was in a class all her own. Canderous hadn't been entirely wrong when he called her a "Jedi princess"; at once exuding the prim properness of a typical Jedi and yet possessed of a fiery disposition and acid tongue. She had later admitted that she'd sworn to herself when she was younger that she wouldn't become stodgy like some of the Masters, only to fall into the same self-righteous trap. In all, none of them seemed particularly good at being the ideal calm, stoic Jedi. But in truth, she wouldn't have it any other way...and she suspected the Force wouldn't, either.

"Don't be," she replied with a smile. "Where I'm from isn't as important as where I'm headed." And it was true; the only use her past had to her was finding this blasted threat. In the grand scheme of things, remembering where she was born or what her childhood was like mattered little. But some small part of her wondered about her parents or family before she had been taken to the Academy as many Force-sensitive young children were, as Jan had hinted at. Not that she would even know where to begin looking, and it was probably better to let sleeping kath hounds lie.

If she was bothered by the return question, Revan didn't reveal it. In fact, what she did reveal was a slight, fond smile. "I had a great teacher. He did all the flying before I found myself here...I'm still trying to get the hang of piloting this bucket by myself and my droid." Good thing T3 isn't here, she mused, or I'd be getting an earful of snippy comments about my 'flying'.

"I'm a little better on the swoop track," she continued, tossing out a bit of useless trivia. Perhaps she was being a little chattier than usual – she was more than happy to let others do all the talking – but these were some pretty unique circumstances.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
What lessons Juno learned in pride were early in her life. The Corulag Academy was not a cruel place, but it could be a cruel place for a girl learning a man's profession. Women were not soldiers. They were especially not competent soldiers, showing more skill and dedication to the task than their male counterparts. Few ever achieved any significant rank; those that did could thank their fierce dedication to the task, and their superior skills.

Even so, pride had no place. Clawing her way up the ranks, Juno would never allow herself to lose sight of that. Arrogance would only destroy her career, or even worse, get herself killed.

Much like Starkiller, she learned because she had no choice but to learn, though perhaps death was not so ready a motivator to her. Her own confidence and competence have been her only real safety net.

Wrapping her hands around the cup of caffa, the pilot huddles in closer to it, as though it could warm her entire being. Part of her probably wishes it would. Juno gives up trying to stifle her shivering, and hunches her shoulders over the hot drink. If there's any justice in this world, Senior Captain Navarr will order her off-duty for half a day, and she can recuperate before this turns into something horrible.

The thought of recuperating in her nice, warm bunk aboard the Absolver is heartening, if only slightly. At this point, she'd love nothing more than to wrap up in a nice warm blanket, sleep for a long time, and forget what it's like to be wet. Using the refresher is one thing – getting soaked to the bone like this is another entirely.

"I guess that's a healthy attitude to have." Despite what is ostensibly an agreement, Juno seems brooding when she gives it.

Where is she headed? What does she really do? After all, the terrible things Galen does for duty's sake are on her head as much as his. He may not mind so much, may be dedicated wholeheartedly to the Empire; but she can't speak with the same resolve. Not after Callos. She's been struggling amidst a crisis of faith ever since.

Juno mentally shrugs the reminder off. She can think of that another time, when she doesn't have the threat of a Jedi breathing down her neck to ruin her concentration.

"I had several teachers, but I can't say I remember too much of any of them. I suppose they ran together, a bit. Oh, I remember the details – this one had a droning voice, that one was terrifying if you weren't absolutely punctual. But they didn't seem important to me. Nothing about them stood out." Her head shakes. It's not a sentiment of malice or carelessness, though; it's just a simple observation. They were average; forgettable. "I taught myself, mostly. All of it. Combat piloting – hyperspace calculations – and I made sure I knew it, too. I graduated with top honours from the academy."

She can't help a sliver of pride in that statement, drawing herself up straight just a little. Even if the reality of that had never reached her father, she knew what her own achievements were.

The cup is swilled around on the counter again, and Juno eyes the contents. It's bitter, and strong, but it's certainly hot. She takes another generous drink, trying her best to ignore the slight burn.

"Swoops... I've seen a few races. I guess I never really saw the attraction. I did see a podrace in Malastare, once, though. Even I've got to admit that those are exciting." She grins, faintly. "Not that I'd ever get into the cockpit module of one of those. That's just suicidal. There's only been one human podracer in history, and he or she probably had Force-sensitivity or something to help out. I don't mind the occasional outing on a fast landspeeder, personally, but piloting in space... that's my one true love. I'll never get tired of the transitions. Hyperspace to orbit, orbit to atmosphere, atmosphere back to orbit again... I love that."

She doesn't really have to say it. It's written all over her face and her subconscious. Apparently, for this woman, work and hobby must be one and the same – a bit of trivia, albeit unintentional.

Revan (414) has posed:
According to Revan's false memories, the Republic likewise had trained men and women equally...or at least they had in their special forces (similarly, it was the only believable memory they could have implanted with the Echani training that could not be obfuscated). Even still, most of the soldiers she had encountered had been men. Funny, that.

And yet, she could see where pride would be a problem, not just in the sense that it could lead to the Dark Side. The Light seemed, at times and as a great point of irony, more pragmatic, at least on an individual level. Memories that had been deliberately suppressed seemed to tease her at the edges of her mind, suggesting that even as a Dark Lord, she had made many choices which would have been frowned upon by a more traditional Sith, though she had made many more which would have disgusted the people whose opinion mattered to her most. It would seem she had never truly fit in with either Order. She could never be heartless like the Sith, but she could never stay above the fray as the Jedi seemed to.

And Revan had done many, many things that would have been repulsive. Bastila had been there, Mission was the eternal optimist and only judged her by what she had seen personally, the same could be said of Zaalbar, Jolee had made it a point to only involve himself if she had started back on her old path, Juhani had seen her as an inspiration and more, and Carth...

He had forgiven her. he had even said as much, that he couldn't hate her, that all he could think about was his promise to protect her...even from herself. She believed in him...but how much could he really know?

A soldier of the Republic could never understand war as she did.

For a moment her mask dropped as she "heard" something through the Force; a familiar voice, but one she couldn't place. An ancient, yet feminine voice, instructing not Lowri, but another....

Dammit. At this point, she was having a hard time discerning past from present from future. It was said that only the mystics among the Jedi could become entangled in the non-linear aspect of their guiding light, but Revan had wondered if that was merely hype. She had never thought of herself as particularly special – at least, she didn't after awakening on the Endar Spire – and simply did what she thought needed to be done. That made her humble, but it also made her too pragmatic.

Lowri kept her mask in place, ruthlessly suppressing a deep sigh. She really need to keep her mind focused rather than being distracted by the hypotheticals as Consulars typically were. She would probably never know what shaped her personality now – buried memories her psyche had hidden away through the reprogramming, her genes, or the will of the Force.

She couldn't help but be impressed. Raw talent only carried a person so far, and even the best teachers in the galaxy wouldn't be of any help to an unmotivated student. But a determined enough person could change the impossible to the impossible, Force-sensitive or not – though admittedly, the Force influenced even those without sensitivity to it. Even with the Pazaak cards stacked against them, it was these kinds of people who shaped destiny. Which was why Revan didn't particularly believe in it, not even her own; great destinies didn't just happen, they were made through the Force and a person's will to see it through.

"You have every right to take pride in that." Idly she wondered if the Masters would have taken her to task for saying such a thing. But the Jedi didn't see pride in one's hard-earned accomplishments as something to be avoided out of fear. Arrogance, like passions while being in love, was another matter entirely.

And here she learned something new, though not particularly relevant to her mission. But then, Lowri didn't consider learning useless. "Pod races? I've yet to see one of those."

Those must have been some form of racing well after her time.

But she did have to smile, not to mention agree. Lowri wasn't a pilot the same way this Imperial was, but being out in space was something she never seemed to tire of. "Or a sunrise from orbit...those never get old."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Thankfully, this Imperial seems to have some manner of conscience to speak of. She doesn't seem the sort that would do such terrible things – though there's no way to know the measure of a stranger. Callos was certainly something she would never want to repeat, a waking nightmare that she still lives when she tries to go to sleep.

She is not, however, on the same level as a Sith Lord. She could never match the cold premeditation or ruthlessness of Darth Vader. that is, perhaps, why she flies the Rogue Shadow instead of leading the Black Eight Squadron. Juno is too compassionate.

That works to her advantage. She won't commit any more atrocities, and piloting the Rogue Shadow will not lead her to another Callos. On the other hand, she is perfectly capable of executing her orders to the letter, particularly if she thinks that her performance may be evaluated by Vader.

She has no particular wish to die – and if it comes down to obeying orders or demotion via Force-choking, she would rather choose the former.

She has her limits, of course – but she also has the potential to do terrible things; less terrible than genocide, of course, but still terrible. Juno Eclipse is a survivor, and she will suffer no obstacle to her continued existence. She might be wet and miserable and shivering right now, but she possesses a core of durasteel.

Those ice-blue eyes narrow slightly at the minute shift in Revan's expression; that subtle hint towards more troubling thoughts. It's not enough to betray anything more than distraction on the Jedi's part, but the pilot finds herself curious, all the same.

She'll never have an answer for that question, though, and so she knows better than to ask.

"Well, then," she says instead, tone wry. "I'm glad I have your permission, because I do. Women don't usually go very far in the—"

Juno was about to say Imperial Navy, but she seems to think better of carelessly revealing information. It would behoove her not to give away too much. If nothing else, Revan's going to have to work for it. Fortunately, she doesn't specify which academy it is that she graduated from.

"Podraces," she agrees. "I'm familiar with swoop races, but they just aren't that exciting to me. I guess my standards are a little high." When your day job is combat piloting, the bar for adrenaline rush gets raised pretty dramatically. "Even the podraces gets my pulse pounding, though. I guess it's not for the faint of heart. A standard race has anywhere from six to twenty-four podracers."

Juno leans back in her chair, ignoring the wet sound her sleeves make when her arms move, resting her arms on the table. "They're repulsorlift craft like swoops. You've got a cockpit module lashed to two turbine engines by Steelton cable, and an energy binder that connects the two engines. Usually it's a weak plasma discharge; it's actually safe to touch it. I've heard your arm goes numb for hours afterward, though."

"Like I said – it's not for the faint of heart. The fastest of them are around nine hundred kilos on the hour. The faster ones average around six hundred. Thanks to that, if you don't have quick reflexes, you'll be a smear on the track. There's only been one human I know of to race and succeed. I don't know his or her name, but it's my hypothesis that they must have had some kind of Force-sensitivity..."

Juno shrugs, taking a sip of the hot caffa. At the other's description, she smiles. "Sunrise from orbit... yeah. That never gets old. Sunset is pretty spectacular, too." She falls silent, considering what to ask, finally issuing a wet shrug; a roll of one shoulder against the heavy, sodden sleeve of her uniform. "Have you got any other questions?"

Revan (414) has posed:
Juno was not the only one among them who had committed atrocities, though Revan struggled to try to remember them. Her knowledge of the battle over Malachor V was something she had only heard of from second-hand information, and the only person she had spoken to who had actually witnessed it was Canderous. And even then, only from a great distance away...no one on the planet's surface or on one of the many ships in orbit had survived, because Revan had ordered its destruction. She hadn't learned until years later that the instrument had been something called the Mass Shadow Generator, a weapon designed to bring about the final end to the Mandalorian Wars. It had done so, but at a terrible price.

She had not been needlessly cruel for the sake of being cruel, as other Sith had been, even if she couldn't remember it. Lowri had been able to dissuade enough students at the Academy from following that terrible path, and some part of her wondered if she had somehow known that it was not a path for someone with any sort of humanity. It had made her wonder at her own, once the truth of her identity been revealed to her. Would she do something like that again? The Lowri who was here now doubted she would, but how many other options had the fallen Jedi had at the time?

Revan simply returned the wry tone with a sweet smile."You're quite welcome," she replied affably, seeming to either be oblivious to Juno's sarcasm or – far more likely – deliberately ignoring it. At least she wasn't falling back on Force-choking...not that Jedi were permitted to do such things, but one never knew when they were encountering a fallen Jedi or even a Sith. And she caught the sudden stop, naturally, but continued on. It was more than a little obvious she wasn't going to elaborate...at least, not at this point in time.

"Reminds me a little of a duelist on Taris. The only other woman in the ring, as I recall." 'Ice' had not been especially amicable either, but that had seemed to be her default setting for whatever reason. The duelists had said she wasn't much of a personality, and they were right. She would have never been able to keep up with the subtle verbal mines.

"Swoops are more fun to participate in than watch," she admitted. "They have a bit of a chequered history, which might be part of the allure. Or some just like vehicles that go fast and don't have access to high-end ships. It's a decent enough way to pass the time."

On the other hand, podracing sounded downright insane. Not that the Guardian didn't have a touch of insanity herself, risking her neck in some fairly new and creative ways, but her brand was at least physically possible. "Whomever came up with that must have been desperate for excitement," she commented dryly. "Withstanding the pressure is one thing, but effectively controlling a craft is something else entirely."

Oh yes, there definitely had to be some Force-sensitivity there. She wasn't quite sure she understood the appeal; controlling a swoop demanded a great deal of skill and finesse, and part of the thrill was admiring a particular rider's command of his or her swoop even at great speeds. Sometimes there were fatal wipeouts, but not too many unless riders got stupid. She could only think of a handful of species who had the reaction times necessary – not counting on someone with Force sensitivity – but then again, by that time there might have been new species in the galaxy who had introduced the racing form. It just seemed so...inelegant.

Lowri took a long, thoughtful pull of ale before setting it down and tapping her chin. She didn't want to ask anything too obvious, not just yet. On the other hand, there was always finding out how much your potential opponent knew about you.

"So," she said, leaning her elbows on the table and propping her chin up on her folded hands, "What do you know about the Jedi of your day? I remember you said there weren't many around. Why is that, do you think?"

The Jedi wasn't accusing her of necessarily knowing anything, but it was a much more direct information fishing expedition than she had been teasing at earlier. Lowri paid attention to her body language, keeping it so that she projected only wanting to find out what exactly had happened to them. Of course, Kyle might be able to answer that same question later, but she preferred having as many pieces of the puzzle as possible.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Oh, so it's going to be like that, is it?

Juno merely eyes the Jedi when given that response with such a sweet smile, and part of her can't help a little amusement at such a feisty personality. It's a shame Lowri is a Jedi. She might have liked to call her a friend, but there is no hope for sympathy among the Imperials. If, indeed, she is a Jedi; and not a fallen Jedi, or a Sith. One never knows. It may even be possible that this woman is only Force-sensitive. Her familiarity with lightsabers may come from second-hand knowledge.

There's no way to know for certain. Not just yet. Only time will give her the answers she wants. Juno is well aware that if she presses too hard, too soon, she's going to risk destroying this shaky alliance and driving away this possible Jedi. She needs answers.

"Oh, podracing has a very chequered history." Here the blonde pilot grins, despite wrapping her arms around herself and shivering. "Most of the sport is owned or overseen by the Hutts, so you can imagine what kind of clientele that attracts. In fact, the biggest race of the season is the Boonta Eve Classic. It's always held on Tatooine. No less than twenty-four podracers, the best in the galactic circuits, and it's always a crowd-pleasing demonstration of organised chaos."

She shrugs, faintly. "Personally, I just like to watch. Sometimes I imagine what it must be like to be able to pilot something like that. There's a reason that only one human has ever been able to participate, let alone win. The reflexes necessary are nothing short of incredible. It's my guess that he or she must have been Force-sensitive. And that's not even mentioning the skill needed to control the craft. It takes incredible finesse to steer two turbine engines with a cockpit module hurtling along the track in excess of six or seven hundred kilos on the hour." Juno grins. "It's not really a sport for humans. At least, not to participate."

"Once in a while I might place a wager, but it's a lost hope most of the time. There's no telling who's going to win a podrace. Sabotage is a perfectly valid tactic."

To hear her describe it, one may have the impression that sabotage is not only acceptable, but encouraged.

Shifting in her chair at the sudden silence, Juno wraps her hands more firmly against her cup of caffa, as though she were making every attempt to try and absorb the warmth from it. It wouldn't be so bad if the cantina weren't so cold.

"Nothing that will be of any use to you, I can tell you that right now. They're quite rare," she says, guardedly.

That much is a lie. Juno Eclipse was only a child when Order 66 was authorised and carried out, but she has since felt the results and the repercussions from that fateful directive. Indeed, her current duties are a direct result of that. For all that many of his targets are political incompetents or rivals to the Emperor, every so often, Galen will be tasked to track down a Jedi and dispatch them.

The woman's posture, meanwhile, is guarded. That should hardly come as a surprise, though. She's been that way since the start of this entire meeting. She hadn't planned on meeting a Jedi, or a Jedi supporter.

No doubt Galen simply couldn't accompany her, and so it's up to her to get herself out of this. Oh, he might come if he thought she were in danger, true danger, and if she called for him with actual desperation. She's certain there's a great deal he would do for her safety – but not without urgent need. Not while in public. Their relationship is a thing of secrecy; she is ostensibly nothing more than his pilot and mechanic. And she knows better than to drag him in here just because she doesn't feel good.

She's felt bad before.

That's nothing new to her.

So, Juno sips her caffa and eyes her 'guests.' Gone is the affable conversation of a few moments ago, replaced with the guarded wariness of the cornered animal. It would behoove her to be extremely careful about what information she gives out to these strangers.

No matter how charming she might find Lowri's wit, she is still only that – a stranger.

"I believe it was frowned upon for Jedi to marry one another. I suppose they must have simply died out." Juno shrugs, keeping her tone of voice level and unperturbed. "I've no idea."

She is, when she needs to be, a good liar.

But Juno Eclipse does not like to lie.

Revan (414) has posed:
Jedi or not, Lowri's somewhat sarcastic personality seemed to pervade everything. Looking back, she had traded barbs with the more equally sarcastic teammates – namely, Carth, Bastila, and Jolee – for nearly the entire quest to find and destroy the Star Forge. Not always, of course...but often enough. Carth was amused, Jolee pretended not to be, and Bastila grudgingly admitted that she didn't know whether she wanted to throttle her charge or be glad that she could lighten the mood. Not unlike Juno herself, probably. She could have that effect on people.

"Well, that explains a lot, actually," the Guardian quipped regarding the completely unsurprising Hutt sponsorship of podracing. "Anything to entertain and make a credit. They sponsored the Tatooine swoops too, come to think of it."

As much as pretty much everyone hated or distrusted the Hutts – often both – people still couldn't keep away from the entertainment they offered. It would appear that hadn't changed in thousands of years, and Lowri wondered if they were one of the galaxy's few constants. They were a generally despicable race, but resilient if nothing else.

So she wasn't terribly surprised at sabotage as a viable tactic. If it made things more 'interesting' for the audience and brought in the credits the Hutts seemed to need as much as food or water, they'd allow it. Though to be fair, when it came to the sometimes underhanded tactics of the swoop gangs on Taris, Lowri had found they were hardly above stacking the Pazaak deck, themselves. She had been fairly certain Brejik had ordered the Black Vulkars to tamper with competitor hoverbikes on occasion. Officially, it was frowned upon...at least when the sport went legitimate.

Jedi or not, that wasn't something that sat with Lowri's sense of fair play. She was hardly naive enough to expect that everyone played by the rules – and admittedly, she had the tendency to bend them herself – but sports weren't exactly open battle...or at least, they shouldn't be. "At least now I can see why they abandoned swoops and dueling once they figured out how to mix them," she mused.

She likewise wasn't especially surprised at Juno's vague, evasive reply to Revan's question. There were a multitude of possibilities and varying degrees of potential knowledge. It was entirely possible that Juno knew every detail possible...or didn't know anything at all. The Jedi suspected the truth was somewhere in-between these two extremes. If her journeys had taught her anything at all, it was to look in every crevice.

Of course, they had also taught her that she would rarely like what she found in them.

There were many people she had encountered that she had no desire to kill or to make enemies of, but sometimes that was they way the cards fell. Often, a little ordinary persuasion went a long way to preventing hostilities...and when those failed, sometimes a little of the Force kind of persuasion proved necessary. But that was an option she regarded as a last resort, not to mention that it only worked on those weak of mind and will. It would be an insult to use such a thing on an obviously intelligent woman on whom it wouldn't work, anyway.

But even Revan's famous charisma was proving to be less effective than usual. As a General and later a fallen Jedi and Dark Lord, she had been able to effectively rally others to her cause and inspire troops...or so she had been told. During her quest to recover the Star Maps, it had more mundane uses, such as persuading two homesteader families on Dantooine not to kill each other and allow their children to marry and live in peace. In the past, she could appeal to any number of things to make her case: reason someone into accepting her solution as the most favourable one, appeal to someone's morality and sense of justice, or even make herself seem trustworthy or even harmless so that it would appear that sharing a tidbit of information with her couldn't do any harm. And then there was her feminine charm...though that typically only worked on some men, and it wasn't necessarily something she intended. She did end up brute-forcing a lot of information out of Carth, but that was different.

Idly, she wondered if that could have been the source of a lot of her problems. If she'd had that kind of magnetic personality even as a child, how much had she become accustomed to getting her way if she could even charm the Masters? Taking the fight to the Mandalorians was something that she probably wouldn't have regretted if she could remember it, but how had she made her case to the Council? Had she presented a comprehensive plan, or some alternative that wouldn't have openly thrown the entirety of Jedi forces into the effort...or did she expect that the Council would have bowed to her will, simply because it had always been that way? It was possible that there had been a bratty streak that had indeed come from her upbringing and had been effectively purged when her memories were "erased". In retrospect, Bastila's lecturing and Jolee's many cautionary tales appeared to point in that direction.

She had wondered how well she would fare without the others looking out for her and keeping her in check if or when she started thinking her charisma could solve nearly any problem. They had never needed to chastise her for making a decision that might lead to the Dark Side, but enough cutting snark was a constant reminder that they had effectively become immune to her charm. Except for Carth, or course, but once more, that was different, not to mention her charm in this case had been of the teasing sort up to a point...not to mention that had temporarily pitched right out the window once her true identity was revealed. All the charisma in the galaxy wouldn't have made him stop hating and blaming Revan, and it had taken something else entirely for him to return to Overprotective Male Mode.

But she might not need to...depending on how often she encountered Juno. If she was influencing the Imperial in any way, she was making an impressive display of hiding it. And even then, she wasn't cracking under pressure or persuasion. But even as much as she was coming to like and respect the other woman, Revan still had a galaxy to protect, just as Juno had her own duties.

"So they stopped taking children from families or adopting orphans? Surely the galaxy hasn't run out of children in general?" she asked, flashing another, more subtle smile.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Although she seems to react to a lot of unpleasant surprises in life with sarcasm and cutting remarks, Juno is not a hostile person. Through years of employ by the Galactic Empire, it's become a way to mask her frustration with events beyond her control. The memory of her first meeting with Starkiller is a distinct example of that; he had not been spared a sharp rejoinder, even when their relationship had still been new and uneasy:

How many pilots have you lost before me?
Seven.
Excellent.

To the matter of podracing, and its criminal undertones, Juno can only shrug. It seems the Hutts must have been a part of the galaxy since its very creation. When the first sapient race crawled out of the primordial soup, the Hutts were there, waiting; betting amongst themselves on who would be next. The rest would be galactic history. Although the idea is absurd, it probably isn't too far away from the truth.

"That's not surprising at all. Sometimes I wonder if there might be anything the Hutts don't have credits invested in. I wouldn't be surprised if they needed credits as much as we need to breathe." Juno swills around her cup, cocking an eye toward the hot caffa inside. Steam still billows from within. Shrugging, she takes another sip, letting the warmth spread through her. It's no substitute for dry clothing and a warm bed, and she's certainly shivering still, but it'll do. "I don't involve myself with the podracing formally, but I enjoy watching a good race now and then."

She'll bet, but not formally, and not through the Hutts. She knows better than to waste her own hard-earned credits. If she's going to throw them away, they're going to be sacrificed in the name of the Rogue Shadow's efficiency, or her own personal projects.

To the question on Jedi, Juno only shrugs.

"I don't know." That answer seems to be the honest truth. "I'm not privy to the Jedi Council's rulings, or what makes the Order tick. And since there are so few left alive, it isn't as though I can walk up to them and ask about their recruitment methods. With so few, I'd imagine they do whatever they can to take the Force-sensitive under their wing. A desperate, losing struggle," she observes, dispassionately.

There genuinely doesn't seem to be any love or hate behind her words; just simple apathy – she really doesn't know much about them, and she isn't lying when she says as much. How they operate, how they were, how they are now; these are all mysteries. Although she has a driving need to solve mysteries – sometimes a troublesome quirk of her personality – she feels no great or all-encompassing need to solve those involving the Jedi.

Some things are better left mysteries, and Juno knows it. She has no wish to open that Pandora's box. Already there are things she prefers not to question or think on for too long. Her loyalty has been strained ever since the tragedy at Callos, and she prefers not to look too deeply into her Empire's methodologies.

Sighing, the blonde pilot leans back in her chair; content for now to sip at her hot caffa, eye Revan warily, and resolutely ignore her being so very wet and cold.

Revan (414) has posed:
Lowri was the sort of person who tended not to take things too personally; time spent with her former companions had taught her not to. Blackout's temper could easily be attributed to the soaking wet cold; she'd seemed amicable enough on the Grey Falcon, and they were both pretty miserable in terms of personal comfort. The Jedi was simply very good at hiding things.

According to her studies and a comment from Bastila, the Hutts had been a dominant force in the galaxy prior to the founding of the Republic, even if they had never constructed an empire per se. If Juno had voiced her thoughts out loud, she would have been rewarded with a laugh; the thought had enough of an element of truth to make it amusing.

"From the sound of it, it's probably a wise decision," Lowri commented back on podracing. She didn't exactly fear death, but her agenda was too full to fit "death by insane death trap" into it. "I'm fairly sure that you're far too busy to just die, too."

For a long moment, the Guardian refrained from comment on the Jedi again. The Order – like everything else – was far from perfect. But she doubted it would ever completely die out, and it was almost a dispassionate view of the nature of the galaxy as a whole which told her that. Empires fell, but their remnants always seemed to reorganise and become a different empire. According to Kyle, the Republic fell, yet a new Republic took its place eventually. If the Jedi Order as it existed in her time died out, it would be replaced by another...and perhaps these new Jedi would learn from the mistakes of the previous ones. The Order itself was not quite as important as learning the ways of the Force and avoiding the corrupting entropy the Dark Side represented. Perhaps they might be more open to the idea of the greys in the true nature of existence.

"Like everything else, it'll seem to die out and come back again later. There aren't that many real, lasting changes," she replied at last with a shrug of her own. "By the time we catch up to the Rakata, something else will probably happen and we'll have to start all over again from stone spears and animal skins."

Sometimes, she wondered if Carth's previous cynicism was rubbing off on her. She had never been a wide-eyed idealist, but sometimes a hint of bitterness crept into her thoughts. Perhaps if the galaxy could stay saved just for a little while, her efforts wouldn't feel so futile at times.

On the other hand and on a smaller scale, some progress appeared to be made. Maybe she was looking at things the wrong way when she started to wonder if a grand positive change was even possible. It was like throwing a pebble into a lake; the ripples weren't always apparent at first, but could grow into great waves, given time. Maybe it would take years for anything to truly change. Maybe she was simply too impatient.

Or...perhaps she just needed to start thinking on a smaller scale. Revan always seemed to have problems with that, as well.

In the meantime, there was the "problem" immediately before her. Treading back into dangerous territory again, but Lowri was used to opening herself up to attack. No one ever gained much ground by being overcautious. "It's only fair that I answer questions you might have, as well, since you've been so gracious."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"I like a good thrill as much as the next person, but I'm not suicidal," Juno insists, pale brows furrowed as she regards Revan over the rim of her cup. "Humans just weren't meant to pilot podracers. We don't have the reflexes or the reaction time. Or even the senses, when you get down to it. That includes betting, too. I'm not about to get myself tangled up in Hutt affairs." She smirks. "Besides, you're right. I am far too busy to die."

There are half a dozen things she could quantify that with, such as I couldn't do that to him, or I have a reputation to maintain, or I'm not about to leave him stranded in the middle of a mission, but none of these are things that she can say. Especially not to a Jedi. So she maintains her silence, fingers drumming thoughtfully on the side of the cup, sound blunted by cheap ceramic.

As for the Jedi, Juno seems content to let the matter go. It's a complicated topic and one she knows relatively little about. Her father had not been very enlightening on the subject, and remembering that brings a roil of frustration through the Force – her relationship with her father is nonexistent; she has no idea whether he's alive or dead.

She finds that at the end of the day, she really doesn't care.

Reaching up, the pilot rests an elbow on the table, chin in her cupped hand, eyes falling to half-mast. Despite what seems like a posture and expression that aren't very alert, those icy blue eyes are fixed keenly on Revan. Only a fool would think her inattentive, and Revan is no fool.

"I've been about as gracious as a nerf-herder, and we both know it. I can't say I'm a fan of getting caught in planetary deluges." Juno flashes a grin. "Still, I'll take that in the spirit it was given in, thanks. I've got to say that you've been surprisingly patient with me so far. Alright, then; let's start with..."

And here she trails off, frowning slightly. She has to be careful about what she asks. If a question is too direct, it isn't going to fetch her any answers. On the other hand, if she asks something too generalised, it won't be worth her time.

Juno settles for drumming her fingers on the mug again. It seems to be an involuntary tell for when she's mulling something over. Finally, she seems to come up with something satisfactory, eyes flicking back up to Revan.

"Do you pilot that ship of yours alone? She looks pretty big for a crew of one." It's a genuinely curious question. She can't help but wonder if the Ebon Hawk can be flown alone, being slightly bigger than the Rogue Shadow. Due to efficiency's sake, she would assume it can, but several thousand years is quite the technological drift. It could also serve to answer the question of just how alone Revan is. If there are any allies besides those mercenary friends of hers, she can start thinking about sidling towards the nearest exit. "Most ships are configured for that, anyway, but I can't say I'm an expert on shipwrights in your time."

Revan (414) has posed:
Lowri couldn't help but smirk. "I don't know that many races which are, to be honest. And I don't know of any with a built-in suicidal streak. And doing business with a Hutt is rarely a good idea in general."

It wasn't exactly mission-critical, but it did help to know that the Hutt Cartel remained a dominant force even into the distant future. She suspected that if the galaxy were to implode on itself, the race would still emerge from the cataclysm to sell obsidian spearheads to whatever new races evolved from the wreckage. The species were nothing if not persistent.

On the other hand, there was no mention of the other great crime organisation, the Exchange. In her timeline, they had already been present for hundreds of years, and caused no end of problems. A despicable collection of slavers, spice merchants, gun runners, and thugs, it would hardly be mourned if it had been resigned to the rubble of forgotten history.

Come to think of it, working with a Hutt was preferable.

For her part, the Jedi couldn't simply up and die, either. she had to find out what it was that was plaguing her with nightmares, visions of her past that came and went. The full picture remained frustratingly out of reach, and many mornings – and a few nights – she'd woken up with a pounding headache. It had began two years after the defeat of Malak, and became something she had used to put a wall between Carth and herself. She'd begun to realise what she had to do, and she couldn't take him with her. She loved him too much to show him the true horrors she had witnessed as a Sith Lord. Some of them she herself was responsible for.

Nor, for that matter, could she take anyone else, even the other Jedi. The temptations to the Dark Side were one thing, but what was out there were things which could drive even a person of strong will mad. Perhaps they had done so with her...instead of becoming insane, she and Alek turned. Or it might have been something else entirely...Revan couldn't know for sure.

She suppressed another sigh. She couldn't even feel her Force bond with Bastila anymore. It made things terribly lonely.

But instead of hinting at her buried feelings, Lowri chuckled at Juno's comment with another sip of ale. "It's far from ideal, at least for humans."

It wasn't entirely gracious, though, and Juno more than likely knew it. For both women, this questioning and answering back and forth was also a way for them both to test the proverbial waters – not that either of them particularly wanted to even think about water – and gauge just what the other was after by examining what kind of questions the other asked. Thus far, both of them had played it on the safe side, asking relatively mild questions which seemed no deeper than to satisfy their mutual curiosity. Lowri could live with merely satisfying her burning curiosity.

In this case, however, they seemed to be indulging their shared love of space and spacecraft. Another trait she didn't mind indulging. "I have a lot of help... T3 handles a lot of the functions and the repairs I can't do on my own. He's a utility droid I picked up around the same time I took possession of the ship. I'd need a fuller crew, otherwise."

That is, stole from an Exchange boss. Being quite thoroughly dead from being on the receiving end of Sith planetary bombardment, Kang wouldn't miss it. And after a while, smugglers and others of less than stellar repute had stopped commenting on yet another of the bird's change of the hands.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
The blonde pilot only shrugs and sips at her caffa. Doing business with any entity like the Hutt cartel or the Exchange is inherently risky. There's always the chance that they won't hold to their bargains, or throw hydrospanners into the works with terms that hadn't been agreed to. She's just glad she doesn't need to deal with any of that foolishness.

When your direct superior is an Imperial Inquisitor, you tend to get answers pretty quickly, and directly. Even then, Galen Marek is not a precision instrument; he is a large blunt-force weapon to be pointed at problems.

Then again, the Empire tends to eschew diplomacy when rebellion raises its head. Patience is not a famous quality of Sith Lords, and Vader tends to have even less than most.

Hers is an... interesting job, some days.

Those crisp blue eyes are watching Revan carefully, but if Juno senses anything amiss in those barest hints of reactions, she draws no attention to it beyond mulling it over in the silence of her mind. No doubt her mind is a frustrating place for the sensitive who might brush the surface or go prying – always moving, always thinking, always correlating what she knows to the sciences she learned and took to so well at the Academy.

She can plot the horrible, nightmarish complexity of a hyperspace jump entirely in her head, and if the navicomputer in the Rogue Shadow broke down tomorrow, she would be able to take Starkiller wherever he needed to go.

That's how it is now, but instead of running scientific theorems, she considers the variables that might account for Revan's guarded behaviour past the obvious. It isn't any reactions that give her away, but the lack of them, despite the Jedi obviously giving some matter or another weighty consideration.

Or perhaps she's wrong, and Revan thinks of nothing at all. That is both probable and possible. Shifting her hand, chin still cupped in it and elbow resting on the table, she watches Revan through half-open eyes.

"T3 sounds pretty unique," she observes almost lazily, but her tiredness is only half-illusory. Her mind is already mulling over what kind of modifications he must have to fill such complicated roles. It's one thing to have a utility droid around, but it sounds as though he goes above and beyond; especially if he's also providing the functionality of an astromech. And, somewhere at the back of all that, Juno would be a fool if she let herself relax. She's still wary, and for all that she might look tired by posture, those blue eyes are alert. "He must be useful to you, being able to handle all of that. I thought that ship looked too large for a crew of one. Fascinating. I'd love to get a look at that programming..."

The corner of her mouth twists into a smirk. "Guess that means T3 might have been taking it through those asteroids, then. Give my compliments to the droid. He did a better job than I'd have expected of a human pilot..." It's a jab, that much is certain; knowing that Revan is a Jedi, she must have been using Force-sensitivity to guide her path. Juno knows it, too, at least in a general sense.

In truth, the Force is a mystery to her, and she suspects it always will be. She can't say she's too disappointed about that. Some mysteries were never meant to be unravelled, and something tells her that she would only make herself old before her time in the attempt. The Force unnerves her. It's real, but she can't explain it; it has obvious effects in the real world, but nothing reconciles it with her formidable scientific training.

She's long since come to just throw her hands up and accept that Galen can shoot lightning from his fingers, Force-sensitive pilots can do impossible things with their ships, and a lucky few can turn the tide of battles with their meditations. It's just another fact of her life, if a slightly irritating one.

Juno shifts slightly, resting her face more on her hand. "I guess that means it's my turn. If your ship has a crew complement of several, why is it just you and a utility droid?" She raises a brow. "What happened to the rest of the crew? Or have you always flown the Ebon Hawk alone?"

Revan (414) has posed:
Had the Sith of her future known what kind of Dark Lord Revan had been, there would have been no end of aspersions cast on her, probably along the lines of assuming she had been weak. Her subordinates had held her in no small amount of awe, but no one was afraid the Darth Revan was going to Force choke them for mere failure; all her aggression had been directed entirely on the battlefield, her anger for those who had committed atrocities. They had followed her out of a belief in her ideals – twisted as they had become after the Mandalorian Wars – or because of her charisma, or even simply because she knew how to accomplish what she set out to do. She had done evil out of necessity rather than anger at the universe or seeking power for its own sake. Power was a tool, not an end in itself.

Then again, that was part of the Sith Code, a part that many powerful Sith seemed to overlook. Through power, I gain victory. The Sith she had encountered seemed to stop at Through strength, I gain power and forget the rest. And those who had and even understood the ultimate achievement, as Yuthura Ban had, were those she had been able to persuade away from the dark path, anyway. It seemed that neither path was one which could sustain an absolutist mindset.

That slight, sweet smile never wavered. Oh, it was clear that she knew it was a jab – or at least, Juno was sharp enough to know she knew that and the limitations of astromech droids – but the Jedi didn't rise to the bait. Perhaps infuriatingly so, depending on the sort of person attempting to bait her. It was an interesting game they were playing, prodding to find which buttons could be pushed for information that was valuable.

But if Revan had made it a point to correct mistaken impressions of her, she never would have gotten as far as she had. And that was even when those mistaken impressions weren't ones she had been cultivating herself. She hadn't had to work too hard hiding her identity when she finally reached Korriban to hunt down the final Star Map; she couldn't hide that she was a Jedi strong in the Force, but she could certainly obfuscate her true intentions and path. And hiding her real identity was easy; everyone already believed Darth Revan was dead, and she certainly wasn't about to correct them. And as far as Lowri was concerned, she was dead.

Not that any of this was working with Juno. She still regarded the Jedi as dangerous, that much she could tell. Even playing the part of the fool didn't work; the Imperial saw right through that. She was very good, no doubt. It usually took her concentration to glean thoughts, and even then she usually refrained from trying. But sometimes, like a conversation that's a little too loud, it becomes impossible not to hear. And what she heard was a mind not unlike her own, always in motion.

Lowri decided to answer the question plainly. The others were safely back in her own universe...at least, safer than they would be with her. "I didn't want to disrupt their lives by dragging them along with me," she explained. "I doubt anyone wants to go on yet another ridiculously long trip across the galaxy to worlds better avoided."

Although, that wasn't entirely true. If she'd asked any one of them to accompany her on her wild mynock chase, any one of them wouldn't have hesitated. But she wasn't about to do that to people she cared about, make them to endure the horrors that awaited her. Oh, she'd probably be nagged at by...just about everyone, really. Here she was, throwing herself on the bonfire again, and nearly every one of them would have told her that she'd done more than enough. Yet, Lowri simply did what had to be done.

Another relatively mild question. "What about you? Even a smaller ship is a lot of time-consuming work, fun or not. Do you do all the repairs yourself?"

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Even in light of that sustained indifference, the pilot seems content to leave that jab where it lies, and bide her time for another opportunity. Juno Eclipse is capable of extreme patience. It comes of working for a few years as Galen's pickup pilot. Even when her heart's been in her throat, concerned for his safety or outright afraid for him – it is not unheard of for him to be dispatched after the odd Jedi Knight – her voice has never so much wavered from its cool, professional tone.

She is very good at controlling her reactions. She has to be, or she never would have survived this long; so, any mild disappointment she might hold at failing to get a reaction out of Revan is quietly internalised.

Juno is patient. She knows she'll get another opportunity.

The caution is still there, even if to outward appearances she seems indifferent. Her chin is still cupped in a hand, elbow propped against the table, her other loosely holding the warm cup of caffa and toying with it occasionally. First she moves it in slow circles over the table; next she might tip it around balanced on its rim, careful not to spill anything.

Her eyes never leave Revan, though, and despite how her eyes are half-closed, they are alert.

"So you're a conscientious sort, then." The observation is given thoughtfully, and there is clear consideration behind it. "Sounds like you've had a storied past, haven't you? Long trips and adventures, and running hither and yon about the galaxy." The corner of her lips curl in a faint smirk. "Sounds like a story, but a story for another day."

She pushes herself a little straighter, folding her arms over the table and tilting her head to regard Revan through still-wet hair. The question seems one she mulls over for a few seconds. How much can she reveal? More to the point, how much can she safely reveal?

Nothing, she decides. She's not going to say anything about the crew – which is not precisely a lie, because she is the crew – but it would be wiser not to mention Galen at all. Somehow, she has the quiet impression that telling the Jedi Knight about the Sith Inquisitor would be an unproductive course of action.

"I can strip a starfighter to its base components, and then I can put it back together in better condition than I'd found it in. So yes, I do my own repairs." Juno smirks, though the expression is a little tired. "I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm afraid I'm a bit of a perfectionist."

Revan (414) has posed:
On the other hand, Revan's demeanour – though no less controlled – was different in a number of ways. It was just as much of a mask as Juno's, certainly, and though her own reasons were not so much for survival as intelligence, it was no less of a controlled, deliberate reaction. There were the occasions where a friendly smile was a disguise, or at least a deflection. Not that she couldn't be genuinely warm and friendly, but in uncharted territory, her seeming openness was both deflection and disarming tactic. In itself, that reflected a part of her inner nature, but only to those who knew what to look for. Beyond the mask lay the mind of a consummate strategist, a master tactician.

Rather an odd thing to be when one was a Jedi Knight. But then, Revan was not terribly good at living up to stereotype. Jedi didn't typically set mines outside the doors of a slaver den.

"It's a very long story, true," Lowri replied, her faint smile never wavering, though she alluded to their rather miserable state deliberately. "Better for a warmer and drier setting."

In her own version of the galaxy, there wasn't much Lowri could hide; just about everyone had heard of Darth Revan, her intended capture which had unexpectedly turned into a rescue, her subsequent redemption through the defeat of Darth Malak and destruction of the Star Forge, and her return to the Jedi Order. Or perhaps not quite so much the last...she was still a Jedi in good standing, but she declined remaining on Coruscant in lieu of going with Carth to Telos. She had almost expected some strong opposition, but the war-ravaged world needed Jedi, as well. Fortunately, Lowri was accustomed to wearing either the simple robes of a Jedi Knight or the commando's uniform she wore on Taris, both of which made her generally nondescript. And her outstanding feature – the heterochromia that could create quite the unsettling stare and was probably how she was identified so easily in the past – was obscured by hiding her silver-grey eye with enough hair over it.

Now she had something of an advantage; they seemed to know as much about the distant past as she knew about the distant future. That is, almost nothing. That made moving around unnoticed considerably easier. However, it also meant she had to be careful in how much she revealed without tipping her Pazaak hand completely. And when it came to the woman who called herself "Blackout", there wasn't much she could reveal at all.

She didn't doubt the other woman was fully capable of repairing her ship entirely on her own – the Imperial couldn't seem to hide her competent nature – but Lowri had had to jury-rig a few things here and there enough to know it wasn't easy. Mostly, it was time-consuming. For the Knight, T3 cut down on a lot of that time so that the two of them working in concert could get the Ebon Hawk spaceworthy in a matter of hours. For a crew of one working on her own...no matter how hyper-competent, that could take days, even weeks depending on damage and what needed to be done.

"It's a miracle you have any free time," Lowri mused with a light jab of her own. "A ship that size seems like it would demand a bigger crew to get it spaceworthy without taking months on end. Not even enough time for a round of Pazaak."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Thankfully, blue eyes and blonde hair is a fairly common trait among the human populations of the galaxy. Perhaps not as common as brown hair and eyes, but still quite prevalent among many of the Core Worlds. Granted, Juno's hair is several shades lighter than many, and her eyes are such a crisp shade of blue that it makes the lesser ranks uncomfortable when she fixes that intense stare on them for too long, but her appearance is still largely common.

Common enough that it isn't an immediate giveaway. She's been trying consciously not to stare whenever she catches a glimpse of those mismatched eyes. It's an unusual enough feature that her gaze is naturally drawn to it, perhaps wondering what might account for such an interesting trait.

Her mind flits for a moment back to her mother. Had she been blonde-haired or brunette? She finds she can't precisely remember that detail, and the realisation brings with it a small flicker of melancholy. How different would things have been, had her mother not been gunned down? Would her father have drifted away from his family and become a cold, miserable stranger before his only daughter's eyes?

Juno does not shake her head, but she dismisses that unhappy train of thought all the same.

On the contrary, for the Imperial pilot, there is everything to hide. No doubt her official records have been sealed since her transfer into such a covert assignment; her existence is not a secret, not precisely, but it's very close. Her orders were not explicit about keeping it that way, but that's been her assumption. It seems the logical course of action to take.

"Warmer and drier," Juno agrees; she shivers and huddles into herself a bit, as though reminded of her misery. She didn't particularly need that reminder. "Now's probably not the time. I'd prefer to be able to pay attention properly. It's bound to be a fascinating story."

Her grin suggests a certain amount of flippancy to the remark, but the emotional undercurrent suggests genuine interest.

"Sometimes I'm amazed I have any free time, but the Grey Falcon isn't too bad. I keep the ship in excellent condition and I take maintenance quite seriously, so that does save me some time. Not a lot, but enough to keep her flying." Her expression flickers at the mention of Pazaak. "Maybe. Maybe not. I can't say it exists in my own world, and if it does, I have no knowledge of it." She rests her chin in her cupped hand and her elbow on the table, head tilted slightly, eyes half-hooded. The expression might be considered lazy if not for that subtle touch of keen interest just past the surface – something Revan's Jedi sensibilities or simple observational skill might pick out. "Why don't you teach me, and we can play a few rounds while we wait for this bloody storm to blow out?"

Revan (414) has posed:
Blonde hair – even the near-white platinum shades – were common enough that two women from completely different points in time and from different parts of the galaxy could meet at random in a cantina and share basically the same shades. Having a left indigo eye and a right grey eye, on the other hand, was far more rare. There were some who had one blue eye and one green eye, but Lowri's was even more odd. The frustrating thing was that she didn't know whether she was born with it or if it had been the result of an accident; with her memories wiped, there was hardly anything she could remember. And that was certainly something she couldn't reveal: the fact that her own past was all but a complete mystery. She had hinted at that when she first met Kyle – when they had thought the other was a Sith – but he hadn't pressed her on the matter.

That was a miracle in itself, considering she had been dressed in the battle armour and Mandalorian mask she had worn as a Dark Lord. She had been expecting to draw some Sith in with that gambit, hoping there would be someone who would challenge the former Sith Lord and inadvertently provide her with the next piece she needed to hunt down...whatever it was. Sith had shown up, all right...and suddenly the galaxy had gotten a whole lot bigger.

The Imperial pilot's lack of staring was another clue about her discipline – not that Lowri needed any more proof of it – but it was a rare skill. She was no ordinary soldier, that was certain. Not that she could get absolute confirmation on that, or what precisely her job was, without asking a more direct question which would have outed the Jedi, was well. There was allowing yourself to become a target, and there was just being stupid.

Her smile became a slight smirk. "A lot of it was a little boring, actually," she replied dryly. No need to recount blowing up a Rakatan weapons factory/dreadnaught. "But yes, another time, perhaps."

Lowri chuckled softly. "Good thing mechanical work is so fascinating, hm?" One thing they seemed to have in common; ship work wasn't a chore. It could be frustrating at times – particularly on the clock – but it was more of a hobby at times than a job.

It was a good thing T3 was back on the Hawk, given that she hadn't programmed the droid to play fairly. Or at least, without gaming the system. "Not a bad idea...though I have to warn you, it can be extremely frustrating." As she pulled out her deck and divided up the cards, she paused, considering something. "Also. Another warning: don't play with a droid. The computer always cheats."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Juno might have startlingly blue eyes, but they're still a shade that can be found naturally from time to time. Light from consoles and computer displays can make them look a little creepy, but there's nothing unnatural about them. Arresting, maybe, but not abnormal. So too is her hair. Although hers is the colour of sunlit straw, very nearly platinum blonde herself, it's still within normal standards.

Right now it's several shades darker from the water still in it; appreciably blonde, rather than the silvery shade it usually is.

She really, really wishes she had dry clothing and a blanket around her shoulders right now.

"Boring? I can understand that. I guess we're even in that regard. Most of anything I might have to say wouldn't be interesting to very many people." The pilot's smile is wan, though, and the undercurrent of emotion suggests that the topic may be a troubling one. "Certainly nothing to compare to an interesting life like a Jedi Knight's."

Folding her arms, she leans back in her seat, watching with a critical eye as Revan neatly divides the deck. Card games are a commonality in nearly every world, it seems, but she can't say that she recognises the design of these. She's having some trouble dismissing her mild sense of apprehension over these cards, too. Surely it can't be all that bad?

"I don't do anything with droids unless it involves telling them what to do or telling them they did a good job," Juno points out with a half-smirk. The only droid she really has cause to interact with is PROXY, and she prefers not to have any more to do with him than she needs to. He might be Galen's Brodroid, but that doesn't mean she trusts the droid that deeply. "I wouldn't play a game with one. I may be quick enough to do it, but counting cards just isn't my style."

Revan (414) has posed:
At times, Lowri had considered taking some measures to make herself more nondescript; dyeing her hair, wearing some sort of oculars to make her eyes seem uniform. But in the end, she did need some recognition attempting to flush out some of the Sith who might lead her to her mysterious quarry. Not that she'd had much success so far...none, in fact. She could be patient, but the Jedi was starting to wonder if she could even find the trail in enough time to save the galaxy again. She had to remind herself that the Force would reveal what she needed to know when she needed to know it. She just wished she had some reassurance.

Oh, that was a cleverly-set mine, one that would have tripped up even the most careful of people. Maybe a little of Carth's paranoia had rubbed off on her, but at the moment she was grateful for it. "I don't know...a soldier's life can be pretty exciting," she replied with a smile, and meant it. "Even if the food can be a little...regrettable."

Never was she more grateful for that "training" that had been implanted in her mind. The Master who'd implanted her with her false memories did his homework. She could even "remember" training where she'd been just as cold and miserable, battling sleep deprivation, her combat uniform soaked and muddy, the training officers barking orders...

The Master might have thought that would teach her a little humility, or had a sadistic streak that Jedi were supposed to ignore. It was a good thing that he never knew that Lowri had cherished those memories before she learned who she really was...and sometimes regretted that they weren't real after she had. It was also a little dangerous; Revan had always valued the lives and struggles of the common soldiers, never hesitating to join them on the battlefield herself, and having those kinds of false memories threatened to lead her down that path all over again.

"Hm," she mused out loud. "I suppose I've been colder, wetter, filthier...and there's no officer yelling how soft and worthless we are."

With a soft chuckle, Lowri shrugged. "Depends on the droid. I trust T3, but there are some I wouldn't turn my back on, no matter how loyal they are. And I wouldn't play Pazaak with them without a few programme tweaks."

Deftly dealing out the cards with a practised hand, the Knight started to explain the rules...

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Juno toys with her cup, spinning it idly on its axis, letting the bottom rim stay in touch with the counter. What's left of the caffa swills inside it, the pungent aroma of it leading Juno to wonder if maybe she should have ordered stimcaf or stimtea instead – provided this backwater cantina even stocks it. After a brief glance at the surroundings again, she's forced to concede that she was probably lucky that they had caffa.

Sighing, Juno raises her cup and drains the bitter dregs, grimacing a little at how strong it is. While it's true she doesn't usually mind the bitter taste of it, she still prefers tea; she only drinks coffee or coffee-alikes purely for the value of the caffeine in them. Sometimes it's the only thing that keeps her functioning. Long duty shifts, especially the type that require peak efficiency and alertness, are just another fact of life. It was true of her days as a TIE pilot, and it's especially true now, with the Rogue Shadow and its covert duties.

"I don't know about that. I'm pretty cold, wet, and miserable. At least it isn't muddy here. I don't think there's enough dirt on Aquilaris to make mud out of," the pilot observes. "I suppose I should be thankful for small favours."

She seems to reserve comment on the matter of untrustworthy droids, guarded once again. Maybe she had a bad experience with a droid? In truth, not really. PROXY has never been anything but civil and obedient towards her, and she really has no reason not to trust him. Galen certainly trusts him, even though the droid is brutally honest about his primary programming – attempted murder, with alarming frequency. She's never fully trusted that he wouldn't try to kill her.

Hearing that the same treatment had been given to the Rogue Shadow's third pilot was hardly reassuring. She has a tendency to lock the door to her quarters, these days, and sleep with her blaster and a hydrospanner in easy reach.

On those rare occasions that she sleeps, anyway.

"I've worked with a few. A loyal astromech is one thing, but some of the more customised variants can be questionable." Juno shrugs, sliding her cup aside to make room for the cards. She regards them somewhat dubiously, squinting a little as the rules are explained to her.

Frowning, she collects four of the side deck cards, eyeing them as though they're going to bite her. "I think I understand." She's a reasonably quick study and a highly intelligent woman, to hear the constant noise of her unceasing thoughts. Her voice, however, carries a note of resignation. "Four definite cards to get me through three sets, and random draws through the rest. Well, let's see how this goes. I've never been particularly lucky, but maybe this will be different."

Ha, ha. Probably not. And she's not fool enough to set a wager, either.

Revan (414) has posed:
If the Imperial pilot had suggested stimtea, the chances were that Lowri would have taken her up on it. The ale wasn't bad; pretty good, in fact, for a type she hadn't been entirely familiar with. However, given their unfortunate circumstances, stimtea would have been preferable. Or at least warmer. Discipline or not, being cold and wet wasn't a condition anyone would want to be in.

But Juno's thoughts were probably right; the caffa and ale were about as good as they were going to get from the looks of things.

The Jedi's personal affinity for droids was as much of a mystery to her as it was anyone else. Clearly, it was a trait of hers which had always been present, given her tactic of building assassin droids and deploying them during the Mandalorain Wars and even after. It had proven to be a very useful hobby, even if certain Masters of hers had found it to be a nuisance. Whether they had been under the impression that such pastimes were beneath Force-sensitives or their distaste was from something else, Revan had never figured out. It was as if such things absolutely must be a chore rather than a hobby, a useful skill in a pinch rather than enjoyment in itself.

That aside, there were a few droids she didn't trust completely...and those tended to be ones she had built herself during her forgotten darker days. Cheating at Pazaak was only the tip of the asteroid as far as some of those assassination droids were concerned. "They can be a...mixed bag," she commented enigmatically.

"The interesting part of the game is that there's at least some strategy involved," Lowri admitted. "I think that's the part I like about it." The part she didn't was how every single one of her opponents seemed to just happen to reach a perfect 20 nearly every time without even tapping into their side decks. The blonde was fairly sure there was some Force involved, even if the players in question were not Force-sensitive in the least. One things was for certain, the mysterious, omnipresent power seemed to favour fools...which meant the two women were very, very unlucky, indeed.

"I think it's safe to say it's 'Republic Senate rules' this time around," Lowri said wryly. "That is, just waste a lot of time but no one really wins."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Although her preference is tea, sometimes it can be difficult to find the genuine article in the far-flung reaches of the galaxy. Most of the time Juno has to make do with inferior substitutes and pale imitations, and she tends to lump caffa in there as a pale substitute of coffee. Even then, coffee is only that thing she goes to when she needs a kick in the pants. Tea is her preference. Sometimes that seems even harder to find in the uncivilised, barbaric reaches of the Outer Rim.

Juno keeps those blue eyes cocked towards Revan, but she doesn't seem inclined to answer that cryptic statement. It is, like so many other details, quietly filed away for future reference.

"I like strategy as much as the next person," the pilot comments warily. "But this sounds like something of a terrible idea."

She eyes her four cards from the side deck warily, picking them up as though they're liable to burst into flame at any point.

"Hmm." She shrugs, drawing a random side deck card and laying it down.

Two.

An auspicious start... or not, by the way she eyes the card, and eyes the cards in her hand. Juno frowns.

"I have a feeling you're doing me a disservice by teaching me this travesty of a card game." The pilot's comment is bland as she studies her cards. Try as she might, they don't make much more sense to her. She has an excellent head for numbers, and she can calculate the nightmarish complexities of a hyperspace jump without the aid of a computer... but it looks like she's met her match in these simple cards, just trying to plot out a simple strategy. It's hard to do that when the vagaries of fate control the outcome of the match.

She frowns. "I take back what I said earlier. You're the nerf-herder." The comment is more of a muttering under her breath than anything else. "Great," she adds, "I can teach this to—"

She stops short and shakes her head, as though to dismiss the thought. In fact, she continues on as though she had not nearly made a fatal slip.

"Who am I kidding?" she adds; with a dismissive air. "I barely understand the rules as they are. I've got no right to drag anybody else down that muddy road."

Juno Eclipse is very good at hiding her reactions, and her expression remains neutral throughout. She had almost revealed the presence of her Inquisitorial associate. That would not have been wise... but the idea is a good one. It would probably aggravate Galen, and then he, too, can share in her irritation!

So, the pilot merely offers a sour little smile.

And the two will continue on with their card game until such a time as Aquilaris stops trying to drown itself, to leave the two bedraggled women to stagger back to their respective ships.

...Hopefully they don't try to murder each other over the Pazaak game between now and then.