Scene #3199: Captain and Commander

Owner	Pose
Juno Eclipse	Welcome to the Bar and Grill at the Edge of the Multiverse. This wondrous little corner of reality is known for its fine food and drinks, with a staggeringly diverse menu, and a guarantee of true neutral ground that few other establishments can boast. The decor is casual, and comfortable, with the sort of coziness and hospitality that one might expect of a good grill establishment. Though crowded most of the time, the Bar and Grill nonetheless manages to avoid seeming crowded. It's a comfortable crowd, rather than an oppressive one. Most of the patrons are forgettable. In fact, most of them are in groups, sometimes large ones. That probably sets apart the woman sitting by herself, white-blonde hair and blue eyes, bent over a datapad of some sort, flicking through information. A cursory look at the screen suggests blueprints of some kind, or engineering drafts; it's hard to say which, although every so often she pauses to jot something onto its clear surface with a stylus. She's got a bowl of what looks like noodles nearby, and a bottle and shotglass of what looks like it might be some sort of whisky. She's squinting pretty hard at that datapad, so it must be absorbing work, whatever it is. Something about her manner and clothing suggests a certain level of technology -- the deactivated blasters at her hips are certainly futuristic-looking, and her clothing is, too. It's a simple white, tunic-like shirt tucked into dark leggings and a reinforced leather jacket over that. The gloves she wears are short, barely reaching her wrist, and open-backed, strongly suggestive of driving gloves. The clothing isn't really mediaeval in its look, though, and something about the materials don't seem right for most Earth-like planets of the twentieth century... hmm. The woman is muttering to herself every so often, mouth tweaking into a frown, as though finding things in her notes she doesn't like whenever she rewrites something. Hmmmm. A pilot? Some kind of mechanic, maybe...?
Guest Jaime	"...send me the design-specs and I'll go over them," remarks a voice - masculine, Terran for those familiar with Earth, decisive - as a tall man in blue pants and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up enters the bar. His dark hair shaved close to his scalp and upon his face geometric scars gleam a faint red. One hand hangs casually at his side, not far from his holstered sidearm. Upon the other hand, an amber-hued holographic 'gauntlet' surrounds his entire forearm, projecting a rectangular screen above his arm. He appears to be talking to whomever is on the other end of the connection, focusing more upon that than upon where he is and who or what is about him. Idle footsteps carry him in the blond-woman's direction. "Okay, Commander," replies a lightly-timbred male voice via the vidcom. "But we can have them installed before you get back..." "Negative," the Commander cuts the other man off, and finally looks up around the room. He spots the blond woman sitting by herself not far from him, and frowns in curiosity. Upon taking in the rest of the area, he frowns even more. "These I want to see for myself." "But these speakers are AWESOME. Hmph, alright. You're the boss... Boss. Sir-Boss." The Commander chuckles, now looking somewhat...confused. "Damn straight, Joker. Shepard out." With that, the holo-image around his arm winks out, and he turns in a full circle, just a few feet from the woman's table. Shepard lifts both hands to his head and takes a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. "Not again..." And he turns toward the woman with the datapad and clears his throat.
Juno Eclipse	Those two magic words somehow manage to cut through all of the ambient chatter of the Bar and Grill. The blonde woman with the datapad looks up from her schematics, bowl of noodles, and whisky as though someone had just physically jerked her chin up by force. Blinking those blue eyes a little owlishly, she quickly scans the crowd, looking for the one whose voice she'd heard-- There. In fact, he's looking directly at her over that holographic doodad, and he might find her blinking owlishly at him, clearly taken off her guard. Also, earnestly not eavesdropping. She can't help it if she happened to hear half a conversation that happened to mention some sort of engineering background. Joker. What a curious callsign. Well, the man's seeming irreverence certainly fits-- Oh, he's talking to her. Juno clears her throat, flushing a little -- and like a window slamming shut, something in her expression abruptly seems to turn a bit more guarded, a wariness creeping into those blue eyes. Up closer, there are clear shadows under her eyes, and a vague gauntness to her that suggests she hasn't slept much or regularly. "Yes?" It's not the best introduction, but it's all she can really manage; her concentration's been thoroughly broken, as it often is in this place. "Is there something I can help you with?" Her voice is light and what some might call pretty -- neat and clipped, with an accent some might say belongs to Great Britain of Earth... or what others might call Corulag of the Galactic Empire. And then, something he'd said catches her attention. "'Not again?' Oh, you must be new to this place." She eyes him almost suspiciously for a moment, before looking left, then right; scanning the crowd, perhaps, before inclining her chin to the empty chair across from her. "Have a seat. Inconspicuously, if you'd be so kind."
Guest Jaime	The scarred man gives a nod of his head, then pulls out a chair to sit opposite the woman and quietly settles down into it. At her comments, he utters a rueful 'hmph' and lifts a hand to rub thoughtfully at his jaw. "New," he replies as though mulling the word over. "Yeah, you could say that. Getting yanked from one place to another is... It takes a bit of getting used to. I'm surprised the quantum entanglement array - comms, that is - keeps up with all the... jumping around. Oh." He sits up a bit more in his seat. "I'm Commander Shepard, Alliance Navy. Earth. For whatever any of that's worth. Where... the hell is this?" and he indicates the Bar 'n Grill with a motion of his chin.
Juno Eclipse	Those blue eyes hood as the woman studies her impromptu travelling companion, brows slightly quirked, as though trying to make some sort of sense of him. On the bright side, she doesn't seem to be criminally insane, or dangerous, or anything that might set the commander's nerves on edge -- if anything, she seems to be rather unassuming, and maybe just a little self-effacing. "I've stopped trying to figure out how the communications work. I'm sure it's fascinating, and I'm sure it's well beyond even my studies. The important part is that it all still works, at least to the best of my knowledge." Her own half-smile is a little crooked, and she flicks the stylus between her fingers in restless gesture. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Commander." "I used to be a starfighter pilot, and a black ops pilot, but now I'm just a fugitive. Why tell you that? Well, realistically, you're going to find that out sooner or later, so you may as well hear it from me." A strange thing to say, but she doesn't quite elabourate. "The name's Eclipse. Juno Eclipse. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Commander."
Guest Jaime	"You too." Shepard leans back, casting a curious eye about the room while signalling a waitress to order a drink. "Whiskey," he says and then pauses. "From... an interesting planet. Your pick." He shifts his attention back to Eclipse. "You're a fugitive, huh? Sounds familiar. Well, you're not on the run from me, so I guess we're both safe - and call me Shepard. I'm off-duty - plus I don't think I'm a commander in this... dimension..." The man grimaces faintly and lifts a forefinger and thumb to massage his brow a few moments. "Yeah, I'll try not to think about it," he admits with a rueful snort and peers at the datapad. "You still fly, though? Can't imagine being grounded is fun for someone used to having wings. It'd drive my pilot... well, even crazier." When the waitress returns, it is with a glass of whiskey - that Eclipse might recognise from the aroma as Corellian. Shepard gives her a nod, and reaches for the glass.
Juno Eclipse	Half a glance is flicked to the bottle of whiskey, and as one of the waitstaff passes by to deliver Shepard's whisky, she gestures to the waitstaff with two fingers. She'll handle that tab. "Ah, cheap Corellian whisky. A fine choice." She smiles, a little nastily. "You'll wish you hadn't, I'm sure. If not now, than you'll definitely regret it in the morning, if you go too far." Juno raises her hands, shaking her head in mock resignation. "I take no responsibility for your potential hangover, Commander. The Corellian stuff's liable to kick your arse the first few times whether you like it or not." Leaning back in her chair, she regards her own half-full shotglass, but she doesn't take a drink from it. Instead, her eyes flick back to Shepard, studying his reactions and mannerisms. Certainly, there seems nothing to fear from him, but there's still something suspicious about her; an edginess, a tight-reined anxiety, as though she couldn't truly relax, despite the appearance of such. The curse of a fugitive, perhaps. "I think I'd need to kill something if I couldn't fly," Juno observes dryly. "More importantly, if I want to continue being a fugitive and not a corpse or something worse, I need to be able to fly. Besides, there's no better way to thumb my nose at the Empire than a narrow escape." She arches a slender brow at mention of his pilot. "That sounds about right for a pilot. Oh, what the hell," she sighs. "I suppose there's no harm in telling you where I came from. You're going to find out sooner or later, either through the bounty on my head, or some Imperial idiot or another. If you haven't heard of the Galactic Empire yet, you probably will sooner or later. Nasty bunch, although I served them loyally for years. They're major allies of the Confederacy -- one of the major multiversal players -- which if you haven't heard of them yet, you'll also hear about them sooner or later, too." "The short version is that I decided I wasn't going to massacre a station full of civilians because they wanted to test my loyalty, so my companion and I left. In a hurry. My companion is a former Imperial Inquisitor. You look like a reasonably military sort, so I guess you can think of it as Internal Affairs, with a lot of cheatery abilites that include fun things like telekinesis and electromagnetism." Juno gestures vaguely, reaching for her noodles. "Anyway, at the end of the day, the Empire doesn't like losing control of one of their Imperial assets, and that includes Inquisitors. I would consider myself less of a concern, however sterling my record may have been up until that point, but I suppose my ability to give them the slip on more than one occasion might be evening out the score, a fraction at a time." Taking a bite of those noodles, she chews on them thoughtfully, eyeing Shepard a moment as though she still weren't quite sure about him. "Your turn, Commander," she finally prompts, with a bland look at Shepard. "I've got your name, but that tells me approximately nothing. What's your story?"
Guest Jaime	"My story, huh." Shepard lifts the glass of Corellian whiskey to his lips and drains it of a mouthful - an action followed by a grimace of distaste...and another mouthful. Listening quietly, he lets Eclipse speak without interruption - filing away references such as 'Empire' and 'Inquisitor' for future conversation. The words, 'cheatery abilities' and 'telekinesis and electromagnetism' elicit a subtle smile of interest from the commander as he drinks more of his alien whiskey. Smacking his lips against the foreign taste, he sets down the glass and folds his arms across his chest. "Your Inquisitor friend sounds familiar..." he murmurs, not quite getting to answering the former pilot's question just yet. "Me? I'm a soldier. The Alliance Navy is the fleet of all the human colonies - Earth being the seat of power. I'm actually from a backwater planet in the Outer Rim. Enlisted young - a bit of a technician, with some... 'cheatery things', too. It's been my whole life since - until now, I guess." The man sniffs and pinches his nose briefly between two fingers before continuing. "The whole galaxy's going to hell - or it was, before ending up in this multiverse thing. Tell you the truth, I'm not really sure now, but we've got our own... 'Empire' from the sounds of it. It's complicated. If you see any giant, flying... aphid-looking machines about a kilometre or two long... run." With a shrug of his shoulders, Shepard reaches for his whiskey again and drains the glass. Again, the man grimaces at the taste and gives his head a vigorous shake, but it does not appear to overly displease him - not enough to discourage him from ordering another. "It's a long story. Psychotic sentient machines, space-zombies, an interstellar terrorist organisation - with one hell of a grudge - and... yeah. On the upside, my ship and crew are with me. Don't know what I'd do without them." Pausing a moment, Shepard fingers the empty glass while waiting for another to arrive. "So are you on your own? The whole fugitive thing. Can't be fun with an 'Empire' after you. What about your Inquisitor friend?"
Juno Eclipse	Half a glance is cast at Shepard's reaction to the whisky. It's strong, stronger than the more refined variants from Corellia, and it's been one of her favourite things to turn to when she just wants to forget the world exists. She manages to suppress a smile at his reaction to its strength, if only barely. Her first encounter with the cheap stuff, the stuff that could strip a TIE fighter's paint, was about the same. There might have been more cursing and flailing involved. Blinking somewhat owlishly, the mention of familiarity from Shepard seems to put her on the defensive for a moment. Something closes off behind those blue eyes, but after what seems to be a conscious effort, she relaxes and even manages another one of those slightly sardonic half-smiles. "He's all over the wanted postings, so it wouldn't surprise me." She leans back in her chair, clutching her bowl of noodles as she listens. Those noodles must be incredibly hot, as over the course of a bite or two, her face flushes scarlet and her eyes are soon streaming. She waves him off with a fork, though, as though to forestall any concerned questioning; or maybe she's just gesturing for him to continue. There's that 'Earth' planet again. It must be a really common world out there, more common than Corellia. She lets him continue without interrupting, though, mostly because she's trying to control the horrific burning sensation in her mouth and down her throat. "Aphid?" she finally gasps, if only because she's still trying to master that hit of very powerful spices. "Can't say I'm familiar with them. Try something more general. Or get me an image reference. What, exactly, would I be running from--" Psychotic sentient machines, space zombies, and interstellar terrorist organisations. Sounds like it could almost be a typical day in the Outer Rim, really. "I'll keep that in mind." Crew? She grins, a little sourly. "My crew consists of three, and that's including myself. I handle the piloting and the mechanics, though. I'm probably the only one who knows our ship inside and out. It's one-of-a-kind, and faster than anything else in the Imperial fleet." She can't help a little bit of pride. "I'd wager it's faster than a lot of ship designs in the multiverse, too." "My Inquisitor friend is Galen Marek, callsign 'Starkiller.' We're... close. Our 'betrayal' was a mutual agreement, because we knew the Empire was eventually going to test us in some form or another. There's more to it than that, but that's the short version. The third member of our motley crew is PROXY, Galen's droid. He's very polite. Also, he periodically attempts to murder Galen as per his primary programming." She might be messing with him. Or maybe she's telling the truth. That sweet smile of hers certainly seems honest.
Guest Jaime	When the waitstaff returns with Shepard's next glass of whiskey, he pauses to nod to them and raises the beverage to his lips - - only to halt mid-motion, once Eclipse gets to talking about her crew, in particular the... "Droid? As in 'android'?" Shepard smirks at the (possible) joke re PROXY's programming, and finally drinks more of his whiskey. From the diminishing grimace-reaction on his face, it would appear he is growing accustomed to it - or trying to, at least. "Sounds like a fully unshackled A.I..." The smirk on the commander's face spreads into a wry grin and he chuckles half into the glass held before his lips. "They exist in my... 'universe' I suppose, too - unshackled 'droids' that is - but they're illegal. Feared. Remind me to introduce you to EDI sometime; she's nice, efficient - polite - doesn't periodically try to murder me, but... nobody's perfect. Oh." As though remembering something said earlier, the scarred man lifts his left arm just above the table top and activates the glowing, amber holographic display around it. "Uh, in answer to your question," he tells Juno at the same time. "An aphid's an insect. Harmless - but scary as hell if magnified a few million times. Here:" A 3-D image renders in the air above Shepard's arm of a machine - easily over a kilometre long (according to the data depicted by the image), with a tear-drop shaped body and finger-like tendrils extending from its front - and eyes. Lots and lots of glowing red eyes. The thing appears more 'creature' than 'construct', and would fit most definitions of the word 'diabolical'. Shepard scowls at it. "That's a Reaper." He motions with his chin toward Eclipse's datapad and mouth-shrugs. "I can transmit the data to you if you like - given that passage between... realities is a thing now, you wouldn't want to find out about these monsters on your own." Leaving the image there for a while, rotating on its own above the hard-light gauntlet generated around his left arm, Shepard lets out a breath and looks at Juno. "Sorry. There's a lot more to where I come from than giant killer bugs - I've just got the war on my mind. What's your home like?"
Juno Eclipse	"That's right." Juno arches a brow. "Droids are fairly common where I'm from. I don't quite know all of the salient points of constructing one, but I can perform maintenance and a few basic repairs. A lot of people rely on them for a variety of tasks. Astromechs are used for astrogation and piloting help, for example, and protocol droids are used as aides. PROXY's actually unique. He was originally created as a training aid for Galen. I don't know of any 'unshackled' droids." That might explain why his primary programming consists of attempting to murder his master. Leaning in close, Juno squints slightly at the projection of the Reaper. Although she seems to study it for a few seconds, she ultimately shakes her head when she withdraws. "I'm afraid I can't say I've seen anything like that. I'm certain there are things like it somewhere in the Outer Rim or Wild Space, but not that size. Well, not unless it's been uncommonly good at hiding, anyway. If you want to share information, I won't complain. I'll see that you're given a location to route it to." Those blue eyes flick between Shepard and the Reaper and finally back to Shepard again, thoughtful. "Don't worry about it." Home? Her brows arch slightly. "Cramped, secured to a bulkhead, and capable of surpassing thirteen hundred kilometres per hour." Her expression remains deadpan. So, she lives on her ship, or at least identifies that as 'home' fairly strongly, it seems. "What about yours?"
Guest Jaime	"Spacious, secured to a bulkhead, and... well," Shepard snorts and leans back in his chair as the image displayed by his holo-gauntlet changes. The 'Reaper' fades in order to show a vessel long and slender, with delta-shaped wings - two glowing engines on each - and dorsal fins upon its aft section. According to the read-out it is 216m long. "It would sound strange to refer to my quarters as having 'speed' - but the Normandy herself... she's fast. I have an aquarium!" The man chuckles and drinks more whiskey. "Yeah. She's home. Home is where the engine hums. I dont think I'd want any other... Maybe I'll show you and your crew around sometime - although I think if your PROXY ends up near EDI we may never get them apart, and my helmsman would probably break something in protest." Shepard's holo-glove pulses with light as a synthetic-sounding (and more than a little sultry) feminine voice says, "Commander. I am sorry to intrude, but Joker's enthusiasm to install your new sound-system is reaching critical levels. I believe he has used the words 'off the hook' a total of thirteen times. Assistance would be recommended." The commander shakes his head, chuckling whilst looking at Juno. "That's alright, EDI," he replies to the A.I. "Tell him he can start unpacking." And with that he looks apologetically at his new friend. "I should go. I transmitted a com-channel with the Reaper info, if you want to reach me sometime. It's been a pleasure, Juno Eclipse."
Juno Eclipse	"I regret to say that I do not have an aquarium." Juno holds up her hands as though in resignation. "On the bright side, that's just as well, because I have no idea what hyperspace would do to a fish. I've got an unfortunate habit of distraction, in any case, and I'd almost certainly forget to feed it after too long. The Rogue Shadow is my pet as much as my home; I dote on that ship more than I would any animal." ...Also, it doesn't leave surprises on the carpet. "Maybe. I certainly wouldn't mind having a look around your ship. I'm always happy to see new ships." The engineer in her just can't leave them alone, especially when they're designs from extremely foreign places. "As for when, well, it sounds as though we'll have to decide on that later." Her expression turns a bit deadpan as EDI cuts in to inform Shepard that Joker is about to take matters into his own hands. Brows quirking, she eventually holds up her hands, shaking her head. "Go, go. I'm sure I've got my own crises waiting for me back at my own ship." It's a fact of life when your travelling companion is a surly ex-Sith and his psychotic murderbot. "It was a pleasure, Commander." "And please. Captain Eclipse is fine. Or Juno. I'll answer to that, too." Flicking a hand in languid salute, she sends the Terran off with something of an insolent grin. "Have fun putting out that fire. Your helmsman sounds interesting." With that, she'll collect her things, leave a tidy sum on the table, and stride off in the direction of the door, back to her own ship -- though not without a backward glance over her shoulder, unable to help but scan the room as she goes. Once a fugitive, always a fugitive.