1770/Home is a Humming Hyperdrive

Home is a Humming Hyperdrive
Date of Scene:	10 March 2015
Location:	The Citadel - Hangars
Synopsis:	After months spent in deep cover hunting the Jedi Master Shaak Ti, Galen Marek returns home to the Citadel's Hangar to check in with his ship and his pilot.
Cast of Characters:	428, 731

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Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
The Rogue Shadow has spent much of its time stationed aboard the Executor, concealed on the hidden hangar level that the average Stormtrooper hasn't known about. At times, though, the ship is expected to pull its weight amongst its Confederate allies, and so it has been given permanent clearance to dock within the hangar facilities of the Citadel, the Confederacy's mighty and reality-bending stronghold.

There's a little bit of everything in the Citadel hangars, but fortunately, there are comprehensive directories to ensure that people can find their way to the appropriate ships.

The Rogue Shadow is not listed among those directories, and in fact it occupies a long and lonely berth all by itself. The closest things to it are, further distant, a rack of TIE Fighters and the odd Lambda shuttlecraft; Imperial designs of similar size, albeit not function. Nothing in the immediate area is as sophisticated as the Rogue Shadow.

As for its pilot, she's nowhere to be seen.

That's because Juno Eclipse is inside the ship... in the most literal definition. Not far inside the entry ramp, there's an access hatch that looks like it's been casually tossed aside, and there is an extremely narrow crawlspace between the ramp and Galen's personal training chamber, and it's inside that space that Juno can be seen, a datapad in one hand, a hydrospanner clutched in her teeth, and a fistful of starship guts in the other, one clear blue eye cocked toward the flashing lights and the readout on the datapad. She seems to be pretty busy... but then again, she's always busy.

She's the kind of woman simply not happy unless she's solving some problem or another; working on a solution to some engineering quandary or logic problem. Although an excellent pilot, her skills as an engineer are hardly to sneeze at – extremely intelligent, and perhaps one of the few Imperial pilots capable of plotting a hyperspace jump without a navcomputer to crunch the rather intimidating (and life-or-death) calculations involved.

It's too bad her records are sealed. Her achievements, both before and after taking command of the Rogue Shadow, are impressive.

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
While the Rogue Shadow and Juno have been called upon by the Confederacy quite a bit, the man listed as the ship's commander has been on Imperial business for the most part. With warpgates aiding his movements, he has been hunting the Jedi Master Shaak Ti. However, despite the vast warp network, the massive amount of possible planets she could be hiding on had proven too daunting. And so, Galen Marek has been called back, the search called off until the Empire can give him some sort of lead. With a report on its way to Lord Vader, the Sith in training is on the move through the Citadel Hangars.

It took him a little bit longer than he would've liked to get the information he needed, but he has it now. His footfalls are silent, his training robes allowing him some measure of silence as he approaches the Rogue Shadow. He can see the panel on the ground and smirks a bit, stopping next to the open hatch.

There's a moment where he ponders what to do, then he decides and slams a fist against the hull of the Shadow. "Something wrong with my ship, Captain?" he asks, his voice teasing. "Or are you just upgrading something in there?"

He still bears the appearance of a man who has just come back from a mission. Shadows under the eyes, dirty face, unkempt hair. But he's smiling nonetheless.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
In some ways, maintaining and upgrading the ship are a form of therapy. It's one of the few stable things in Juno's universe, one of the few things that won't shift or change or give out beneath her. It's one thing that will never order her into another Callos, another bitter disappointment that haunts her for months, even years.

She tries to hide it, but she still has nightmares about that horror. Fiddling with the most complex subsystems of the ship are one of her ways of coping with the life of an Imperial Inquisitor's pilot and the inherent instability and uncertainty that it entails.

In some ways, the Rogue Shadow is more of a home to her than any official quarters that have ever been assigned to her. She knows every square inch of the ship. She's reasonably confident she could dismantle the entirety of it and put it back together again, not only functional, but tuned and running smoother than ever. Given time and tools, she probably could, by now. It's as familiar to her as the back of her own hand–

There comes, from inside the access corridor, a high-pitched yelp, the sharp clanging clatter of a tool being dropped, and the solid sound of somebody doing a double-take right into the inside wall.

A moment later a hand emerges from the hatch, and a hydrospanner is thrown at Galen.

It'll miss, of course. She's not even trying to hit him. But she's ready for a break, any anyway, it makes her feel better. Comfortable banter. Familiarity.

Juno carefully extricates herself from the narrow crawlspace and its wires and components. A moment later she reaches back for the datapad, stuffing it into a pocket and wiping at a grease smudge on the line of her jaw. Her features are as clean-cut as ever, though perhaps there are shadows under her eyes that were not there a few months ago. While he was busy stalking Shaak Ti, she's been working hard in his absence.

"You're an ass," she protests, folding her arms. She doesn't quite scowl at him, but her sharp look suggests she might if it were a more dignified response.

Months away from duty and that's how she greets him?

After a few seconds she smiles, and it lacks the sting of their usual banter. Normally she might greet him with another insult, but it's been months, and she'd been worried sick about him the whole time, although she'd never say it; especially not to him. He might have had PROXY with him, but it's just not the same. Instead of insult him, she simply reaches over and presses a button, closing the ship's entry ramp after him. It's private inside this ship, as private as anywhere will ever be.

That means nobody can see as she throws her arms around him, as much out of relief as to throw him off-kilter. "Welcome home, Galen." For indeed the Rogue Shadow is as much a home for them as they'll ever have; a piece of stability in the turmoil of an Imperial life.

Stepping back and away, Juno reaches up to swipe off her cap, raking fingers through her hair and ignoring the slight smudge of grease she leaves. "Actually, I've been running diagnostics on the sensor arrays. It's not easy keeping up with Union technology, but it's well worth the aggravation." She jerks a thumb at the open access hatch, where cables and diagnostic equipment clipped to them spill from the hole. "It's going to take a while yet. We won't be going anywhere until it's finished, and you can tell that to Lord Vader if you have to. I won't have any Union surprises." She grins, this time a little more sourly. "Especially not if he sends us on a mission in Union territory, and you can bet that anything involving the Jedi will probably be in Union territory."

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen chuckles a bit as Juno yelps from inside the Shadow's guts. He had no doubt his appearance would surprise her, and the moment is definitely worth it. As she thumps around and drops something, he offers more of a laugh. "You alright in there?" he asks as the hydrospanner spins toward him. It goes wide, naturally, but stops in midair and hovers to Galen's hand. Tossing it idly into the air, he smirks as Juno climbs out of the ship. He gives her a quick once-over, then shrugs. "Nice to see you too, Eclipse," he says, nearly rolling his eyes. "Good to see you've kept the Shadow in tact."

As she closes the hatch behind them and hugs him, he returns the gesture, smiling truly at the contact. "Glad to be back at last, Juno," he says, his tone a bit softer.

Being back on the Rogue Shadow is a welcome change for the Inquisitor, and he immediately seems more relaxed. The weariness in his body is apparent now, and his shoulders sag a bit. His robes are torn and frayed in places, patches of dried blood scattered across them as well. Chances are most of the blood isn't his, but it's hard to tell. "Union tech is that advanced, huh?" he says, closing his eyes and leaning against the frame of the hatch, "No doubt you'll have something to beat it before too long, right? The Confederacy must have equivalent tech for us to draw on." He opens one eye a bit, focusing on Juno as she speaks, nodding slowly as she mentions the Shadow is immobile for some time. He smiles a bit more, but like hers it has a sour edge to it.

"No doubt there," he says, voice edged with frustration, "Shaak Ti has been slippery. I think she might have found contacts in the Union to protect her from me. So yeah, that mission's on hiatus until the Empire gets more info. I told PROXY to see if he could dig up any rogue transmissions, but so far he's got nothing."

He crosses his arms, then holds out the hydrospanner. "By the way," he says, a bit more of a playful air creeping into his voice, "you dropped something."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Stretching, the pilot lets her head loll to one side, straightening with a swift crack to each side. It feels good to move freely after being crammed into the insanely tight confines of the access corridor. That crawlspace makes the cockpit of a TIE Fighter look luxurious.

Once she straightens, she folds her arms again, studying his condition with a critical eye and a frown. Most of that blood probably isn't his, but you never know with somebody like Galen. He's like an angry rancor beast once he has a chance to build up his momentum in battle; an agnry rancor beast with no sense of self-preservation whatsoever.

"Not really." She shrugs, shaking her head, but it's clear she's still distracted by how ragged he looks. "It's less the advancement and more the variety. I'm not going to say we're on the top of the tech pile, but we're definitely ahead of a number of curves. We aren't ahead of everything, though, and it would be arrogant to assume so. No; it's hte variety. There's just too many bloody things to account for." Reaching out, she pats the inside of the Rogue Shadow's hull. "Even systems as advanced as these can only prepare for so much, you know? I'll find a way, though." She eyes the ship's hull, speculative. "I always find a way."

Her eyes turn back to him. "Shaak Ti. Another Jedi." There's an undertone of worry in her tone. Subtle as it is, he has senses other than the physical to know what her emotional state is, and there's no doubt he can probably sense that undercurrent of concern. "You really shouldn't be chasing after her without the Rogue Shadow supporting you, Galen. You might have got lucky walking into Kota's trap, but Shaak Ti's given you the slip this long. She's probably more cunning than we can guess."

True, she's got allies, but to survive this long against all of the Inquisition's dogged efforts... even Juno's got to respect that, the same way she respects the beauty of Galen's lightsaber – that, while a strangely beautiful thing, it's also a deadly weapon.

She sighs, though. Hiatus is good. "Have him check the subspace bands, too. In fact, once I've got the ship put back together again, have him do it through the pilot's console. He might have better luck; it's more sophisticated than anything else he's going to use."

The hydrospanner is stared at, a little flatly.

Juno snorts and swipes the thing out of his hand. "No, actually."

She leans a hip against the doorway, folding her arms; smirking at the scruffy Inquisitor.

"I missed."

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen closes his eyes again. "Variety, huh? Makes sense I guess. So many worlds' worth of tech is bound to create an incredible level of defense. Fair enough. What sorts of things have you been running into, out of curiousity?" His eyes reopen, allowing his muscles to fully relax. "I've caught bits and pieces while I've been chasing Ti, but never a full picture." He senses her concern a bit and moves toward her, extending an arm to rest a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm not heading back out without official word from the Empire, and once I report the Rogue Shadow's status, they'll be in no hurry to get me back on the hunt. We'll take some time, figure some things out, then go after Shaak Ti. I'm not eager to go back on any mission without you and the Shadow waiting up above." He clenches his hand gently against her shoulder, then pulls back, hoping that eases her mind a little bit. "For now though," he says, "There's not much to do other than wait, unless we have to go on Confederate business. Which is nice. I've missed this ship."

He leans back into his spot as Juno snatches the spanner away from him, smirking a bit. "Oh, that was a throw?" he retorts, "Coulda fooled me. If there had been anyone about a mile from me they might have been in danger." He cocks one eye toward her, smirking sidelong. "Good thing you're a pilot and not a sniper, right?"

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"Variety," Juno agrees, folding her arms and sighing. The breath sets her hair to fluttering; she's left the sections to the side down in the usual manner, and a few stray locks have come undone from its meticulous styling. No doubt she'd gotten distracted while digging around in the Rogue Shadow's interior.

Reaching up, she replaces her uniform cap, eyeing the Inquisitor somewhat dubiously when she feels his hand settle over her shoulder. Her lips thin for a moment as though she might protest, but ultimately she shakes her head. "I'd rather be there, too. For one, we can provide reconnaissance; for two, we can knock out anything that might interfere with your pursuit."

For three, but she doesn't speak it, she'd feel better.

She sighs again when he tightens his hand over her shoulder, as though she were disappointed more in herself than anything else. He trusts her to fly the ship, so she should trust him to hunt Jedi... but it still doesn't ease the awful knot of worry in her stomach every time he leaves the ship hot on the trail of a Jedi. Sith he may be, but he's not immortal. And while she's too proud to say it out loud, she worries about him.

They live on the knife's edge – anything could change, any time, for no one serves the Empire comfortably. People are tools to be used and then discarded when they are no longer efficient. She found that out well enough in her time leading the Black Eight.

Waiting. More waiting. Still, she should be grateful for it. It's an opportunity to rest. She looks as though she's been working herself to the bone as much as him.

With great dignity, Juno replaces the hydrospanner into the kit at her belt, snorting softly. "What? Anyone can be a sniper. Just look at the stormtroopers. It takes real skill to pilot a starship." A forefinger is stabbed in his face in clear gesture of warning, though there's no real animosity behind the gesture. "And the next time you need to fly yourself somewhere, or the next time you beg it off on PROXY, you'll remember that."

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
The Inquisitor crosses his arms, studying Juno with a soft gaze. "I'll send my report to the Empire, then you follow up with the Shadow's status. I'm not going anywhere on Imperial order without my ship at my back. That requires you to be piloting, so they'll have to listen. Anyone short of Lord Vader and the Emperor himself would be afraid to contest me anyway." He smirks a bit. "Besides, I want at least a few days. I saw some crystals on one of the planets I was chasing Shaak Ti through and I want to... uh..." He looks away, but only for a moment.

Galen sighs out a bit, chuckling. "Well, there's not much reason to train them that much since they... you know, die more often than not. Usually just as collateral. Resources are better allocated to us. You have a point though. I could qualify as a better sniper than a stormtrooper. You, on the other hand..." He puts a hand to his chin, smirking at her before she makes her next quip. He frowns slightly. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm the brawn of this operation, and you're the brains. I CAN fly, but I would really rather be able to meditate. And at least you don't try to kill me and let the ship just float off while I fend you off."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"They're not going to have much choice. The absolute fastest I can have those systems recalibrated is... hm. I'd say a minimum of seventy-two standard hours. Sixty if I sacrifice some of the less critical aspects, but I'd rather not do that unless I haven't a choice." Juno reaches up and tugs her cap into place, absently arranging her hair, eyes distant. "Agreed. Fear for their lives aside, I suppose the only ones who would actually have the authority to gainsay that would be Lord Vader or the Emperor."

She glances back as he mentions a planet with interesting crystals, narrowing her eyes. "Oh, I see how it is. This is just a ploy to get me to pilot you over to look at some interesting rocks, isn't it?" Juno snorts. "Forget it. You can requisition a shuttle and pilot yourself over there. The last time we stopped to look at interesting rocks, I was cleaning native plant life out of the Rogue Shadow's engine intake ducts. For a week. And that was with PROXY's help."

"Fine... fine. You're not going to let me rest until I agree to take you there, anyway. I'll double-check the charts and lay in the coordinates once the ship is ready to depart. There's no harm in going there as long as you're not needed for any Inquisitorial work." Leaning back against the wall, she folds her arms again, watching as he mutters something about stormtroopers. "I've seen their aim. I wonder, sometimes, why anyone in Imperial Command actually bothers."

She shrugs. "Of course you can fly. What were you going to do between pilots, walk to your objectives? I know the business end of a blaster, and I can take mine apart and put it back together again. But let's be honest; I'm a much better pilot than I am a good shot. Even if I manage to hit what I'm aiming at, I'm no soldier. I passed my basic training, and that was it. I'd rather be in the cockpit. I'd rather be in a TIE Fighter cockpit than down on the ground in the rank-and-file."

TIE Fighters are infamous as death traps with ion engines, but she managed to not only beat the odds, but thrive, in an environment that chewed up and spat out most soldiers. Over one hundred successful combat missions, many of those in TIE Fighters, with the worst of her injuries from crash-landings due to faulty hardware – hardly anything to sneeze at.

"No, you're free to play with PROXY all you like. I'll do the flying, thanks very much. Besides, short of official reassignment orders, I'm not going anywhere. I don't trust anyone else to handle this ship to its full potential. And I certainly don't trust you or PROXY not to run this ship into the ground in my absence."

Strolling over, she leans against him, with a chuckle. "You stick to the lightsabers, Galen. I'll stick to the cockpit. Sound good?"

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen rolls his shoulders, stifling a yawn. "Three days, huh?" he asks, running a hand across his head. That would be sufficient to spend some time not hunting, he thinks. Of course, it won't do for him to slack off while Juno works on the Shadow. "I might be able to help with some of the basic stuff, and if I call PROXY back in you won't have to work for that long to get it done. You look like how I feel right now. How long have you already been at this, Juno?" He crosses his arms, fixing her with a concerned look. "You've been sleeping, right?"

He rolls his eyes at her jab about his hobby. "I know I can requisition a shuttle. Hell, I could get an entire squadron. But I don't want to go back now, or anytime soon. That can be a side project after rest and getting the Rogue Shadow running. Those crystals aren't going anywhere right now." He lets out a breathy chuckle. "I'd never actually doubt your aim. I'm sure you can hit a target. But I prefer you as a pilot as well. Your skills there are far beyond any of my previous pilots."

He traces his lightsaber on reflex at the mention of PROXY, his battle instincts kicking up almost instantly before he realizes that he isn't in any danger. He drops his hand, looking blank for a moment before Juno approaches and leans against him. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, smiling serenely.

"Sounds like a plan," he says softly.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"Possibly more. Sixty hours are the minimum I think I can get away with, but that means a loss of potentially important database content for signal matching. Seventy-two is better." She shakes her head, tugging off her cap again and rubbing at her face with her other hand, calculating. "Ideally, I'd want to have... hm. I'd say eighty or more hours allotted, just to be sure."

Sleeping? Juno looks up at that, blinking once or twice. The slightly blank quality to her expression suggests she probably hasn't thought about it. "Part of my training as a TIE Fighter pilot was to function on a minimum of sleep. You'd be amazed how far you can push yourself with proper training... but I suppose I should. If I could borrow PROXY, he can let me know if anything comes up in the diagnostics that need my attention..."

"I think you could requisition an entire fleet, if you really wanted to. You seem to have an exceptional amount of leeway even among the other Imperial Inquisitors, if I understand my database trawling." She grins, almost sourly. "But I'm glad I have your approval. You know, I almost became an engineer, but I thought it was too boring."

Be careful what you wish for, huh?

"Easy," she murmurs, laying a hand over his arm when he reaches for his lightsaber. "He's not here. At least, not unless you brought him with you. I would've known if he were on the ship." How? She didn't know Galen was here, but then again, he moves silently. The droid is anything but stealthy. She gives his arm a pat. "If you've got any way to keep him from trying to kill you for a little while, you should try. You look like you could use some rest, too."

"Good," she murmurs, leaning into the arm and smiling. "Cleaning up your messes is bad enough. We don't need to add mine to the list, hmm?" Drawing in a deep breath, she lets it go in a sigh, resting her head on his shoulder. "That's the last time you get assigned somewhere without support from the Rogue Shadow," she adds, not quite glaring up at him. "Someone's got to keep an eye on you." In other words, to run it through the translation of their familiar banter, she was worried sick about him, and she's relieved that he's mostly okay.

"...But I'm glad you're alright." She lays her head on his arm, only to pick it up again, frowning at a fresh scar. He had plenty of those when she first met him, and the tally's only gone up since then. "Let me guess," she adds, leaning back and tracing a fingertip over the faded line. "The entire planet tried to kill you. At least let me take care of some of these."

"I do know basic first aid training, you know. Come on, you can fill me in as we go, and it'll distract you from whatever I need to do to make sure you don't tear yourself open," she adds, with a snort, tugging at his arm. There's a small chamber behind the common room that serves as a basic medical facility, which is to say it's about the size of a closet but does conveniently have all the supplies necessary.

Juno herself's made use of it, like when her eye had been taken out by a shinki's blaster weapon – come to think of it, there is a very slight difference in colour between her eyes. One is the familiar clear blue of a summer sky, and the other seems just a bit more grey; almost violet, when the light hits it just right.

...Tug, tug. "It'll only take ten minutes, and then you can get some rest. I promise."

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen chuckles softly as she outlines her time planning. "Always meticulous. It's kept us alive this long, though, so I'm not going to mock you for it." As she mentions that she's been stretching her sleep cycle, he casts another vaguely concerned look at her. "Don't make me knock you out," he says teasingly, "Sleep is... well, it helps. I can't really say anything though. I mean, I think I got an hour or so in a cave about three days ago." He rolls his shoulders again. Having her leaning against him is making all of his exhaustion catch up to him, but it's a physical feeling. His mind is still sharp and alert. And happy.

"Yeah. I'll consider that a lucky break," Galen says, "If you were just an engineer, I'd probably be on my thirteenth pilot and the Shadow would've been scrap long ago." And they wouldn't have met, but he lets that silent thought hang. Even though he was sure no one was around that would be able to board the Rogue Shadow, he was still hesitant about certain things. Keeping up a little bit of a guard was never a bad idea.

"Alright, alright," he says, leaning his head against hers, "I won't go anywhere without you and the Rogue Shadow backing me up. Though, you know I can watch myself." So he says, standing there in scruffy and ripped robes and covered with injuries. He doesn't mention that, either. She's already noticed though, and he knows that.

As she tugs on his robe and guides him toward the common room, he prepares to be led but instead stops, catching her by the shoulder. He thought he caught a glimpse of something, and sure enough one of her eyes is off color. "What happened?" he says, a hard edge in his tone. His grip is light, though, easy enough for her to shrug off if she wants. "Your eye... what happened to it?"

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"Good. I'd have to mock the messes you make in return. Do you know long it takes to scrub blood off the durasteel grill on the boarding ramp?" She probably knows. He's probably dragged his fair share of messes back onto the ship with him, just by dint of being covered in blood and less savoury things. It's just the nature of the beast. "I can break it down to standard seconds, if you prefer."

There's little doubt that she could, too. The woman's mind is like a computer, and just as sharp, especially when she's latched onto a particular detail.

When he helpfully threatens to knock her out to help her sleep, the pilot just stares at the Inquisitor, about as bland as bland gets. Oh, sure, he could knock her out to help her sleep. And she could shoot him with her blaster, too. It probably wouldn't kill him. It would hurt like the dickens, too.

"Hmph." A soft snort. "Three days, and you're nagging me about not sleeping. We're about neck and neck, and I haven't fallen over yet, have I? I may not have your vaunted Force-sensitivity, but I do have extensive training in how to operate at peak efficiency in a combat situation. Which is, really, any moment of our lives, when it boils down to it." Inquisitors don't get vacation time.

Shifting so she can toss her cap back on, meticulous even behind closed doors, she takes a firmer grip on his sleeve and gives it a sharp tug.

"I think you'd be on your fifteenth or sixteenth pilot." It used to be the subject of nightmares and healthy fear, but she's since made peace with her staggering number of forebears. Most of them were probably sloppy enough to earn their deaths, etiher in the line of duty or at Vader's hands. "The Rogue Shadow would probably be quietly rotting on Raxus Prime, and the Rodians would have ripped it apart months ago, if not years ago."

When he gives in and agrees not to go haring off anywhere without support from the ship, she smirks a little. "Of course you can," she admonishes him, with a finger jabbed into his chest. "That doesn't mean you do it well, though."

She does stop when he catches her by the shoulder, though, raising a brow.

"Hm?" She seems more puzzled than anything else. "My eye? Don't you remember? Ah, poor Galen. You must be as tired as you look. It was that Union shinki, Zeno; Lieutenant Medusa did good work regrowing the tissue, but I suppose it wasn't exact. I thought I noticed the colour was a bit off, the other day, when I came out of the refresher... but I thought I was just imagining things." She shrugs. "I suppose I'm lucky. It's the kind of thing that would put any other pilot on the ground. Permanently."

Shrugging of his hand, she takes him by the arm, with an insistent tug. "Come on. You're not getting out of medical attention that easily. Tell me about Shaak Ti. That must have been some hunt if Lord Vader had you running after her without support for that long. You can tell me more about that planet you want to go back to, too."

She'll steer him, gently but firmly, into the ship's makeshift infirmary. It's really just a slightly large-ish closet with medical supplies stuffed into a plastisteel barrel, and an extremely cramped cot bolted to the floor and wall, but it works. She gives him a push to get him sitting on the cot, kicking the barrel open to go rummaging through it.

"Honestly, I thought you would've been back months ago. I was starting to worry when there'd been no word from you, but I figured if something had happened, I'd hear it from Lord Vader. At the very least, he would have reassigned me to another Inquisitor, or put me back on point with the Black Eights." She shrugs, glancing over her shoulder. "I'm glad he didn't. I think I've gotten a little fond of this ship..."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
She straightens with a bacta patch in hand, and a roll of what looks like high-tech bandaging, probably lined with bacta or something. The patch is uncerimoniously slapped on the cut, held in place for a moment or two by delicate fingers. Her fingers are long, well-suited to the kind of delicate work she enjoys, but they're also scarred; old scars, probably from accidental cuts against sharp machinery or the like. Unlike Galen's scars, they're just as neat and precise as the rest of her – thin, precise lines, long since healed and faded.

"And do try not to squirm," she adds, primly.

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen rolls his eyes. "It's the hazards of the job. I said I was sorry, didn't I? If I didn't, I'm sorry." He shrugs. "Keep that number in mind. You might need it for some sort of quiz or something." He chuckles idly, his body feeling heavy. He straightens up rather than slumping, though, trying to look much more alert than he felt. The man known as Starkiller certainly doesn't seem like a killer right now, and he didn't feel like one either. He chuckles as he runs a hand across his face, trying to get a bit more blood to flow there for appearance. "I think the Citadel is safe enough for you... us... to let that guard down long enough to get some measure of rest," he says, "Combat adrenaline can only keep a body running safely for a short time." Which is the only reason he had an hour of sleep. Not mentioning that, though, because it would certainly earn another snort.

"Well, honestly, I doubt I'd've gotten past twelve. Eleven seems like an unlucky number. They'd probably have gotten us killed in a fiery crash of some sort," he says, "So I'll count getting you as a stroke of amazing luck." He chuckles a bit again, then shakes his head. "Hey, I've kept myself alive haven't I?" he asks, his voice teasing, "I must not be too bad at it, but it's better when I don't have to."

She mentions how Zeno took out her eye and the tissue having been regrown, and his eyes go wide. Then they go back to normal. "Ah... right. Yeah, I guess I must be running on less than I thought. I don't know how I managed to forget that..." He rubs his eyes, then sits down on the offered cot, his body sagging under its own weight.

"Just the ship, huh?" he asks slyly, before his eyes close on instinct. "Damnit... Body's not forgiving me right now," he says. As she pulls out patches and rolls of bandages, he just sits there, muscles going slack. His eyes flutter back open, watching her hands work.

"We're definitely soldiers," he says with a small laugh, "Scars tell that well enough."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"It's actually a technique I learned as a TIE Fighter pilot," Juno explains off-handedly, shrugging. "It's less to do with combat adrenaline, and more to do with teaching yourself to sleep in short bursts. I used to sleep in the cockpit. I've done it in the Rogue Shadow, in fact, but only once it's in hyperspace. Once I've laid in the coordinates for a jump, there's not much else to do."

It's usually a great time to catch that rarest of commodities, sleep. Even a catnap can do wonders to a person trained to be able to function on such a little amount of sleep. Adrenaline, coffee, and flat-out stimulants can cover the rest... and they probably have, for Juno, for a long time.

"Oh, the Citadel's safe. Reasonably. The only people we have to worry about here are fellow Confederates," Juno states, in that sarcastically cheerful way of hers. She nods off-handedly at his remembering the ocular incident. "Mmhmm. Incredibly unpleasant, by the way, I don't recommend it. Though, I suppose it won't be a concern any more. Lieutenant Medusa is no longer with us, I'm to understand, although I haven't heard the specifics. Still. Incredibly painful and unpleasant."

"Just the ship," she reassures him, smirking and patting the Inquisitor on the arm, but the expression falls away, into a subtle smile that doesn't have a whit of sarcasm in it. "And its owner, too, I suppose."

She looks up from where she's holding the patch to his arm, using her free hand to unroll a length of bandaging. "Hold this," she adds, indicating the patch. She snips free a length of bandage when he takes it, coaxing him to raise his arm so she can wrap it around. Tying it off neatly and quickly, she gives him a pat.

"It's no substitute for an actual expert, but that should at least keep you from infection. Or do you even get infections? I suppose if that was going to happen anywhere, it would have been Raxus Prime or Felucia." She makes a face. Felucia was not her favourite place, and not just because it took weeks to clean all of the organic gunk out of the ship. "I really hope we never have to go back to either of those."

Tossing the extra roll back into the barrel and sealing it, Juno sits down on the barrel, leaning against the wall and folding her arms. "Yeah." This, to being soldiers. Her expression is almost a smile, but there's something weary and hopeless in it. "We are. Like it or not. Although some of us are more soldier than others," she adds, toeing him with a boot. "Come on. Let's get you to the sleeping quarters. You must be exhausted." She offers him a hand to haul himself back upright. "I'll deal with the rest of the wounds you've racked up later. You need to sleep, first."

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen shakes his head. "If it works, I guess," he says, rolling his shoulders lightly. "Good to know you found time to sleep while piloting," he adds, smirking at Juno. "That's one thing that got one of my last pilots on Lord Vader's hate radar. Granted, he nearly crashed into the Executor." He rolls his eyes, remembering the pilot and the swiftness with which he was executed. "You know when to do that, though, so I'm glad for that." He offers a sincere smile at that.

Galen goes through the motions, following Juno's orders as she tends to his wounds. He chuckles a bit more at her words, closing his eyes as he listens to her speak. "I can get infections, sure. I'm still human. It's just rare. Either because of luck or the Force, not sure which." At the mention of Felucia, he smirks. "Yeah... never thought my robes were gonna come clean after that. Or the Shadow for that matter. Eesh."

Galen merely nods and rises, grabbing her hand lightly to help himself reclaim a standing position. "Alright, I'll admit I'm a bit worn out. But here's the deal. I'm not sleeping a wink until you get some yourself. I'll fall asleep after you do, and don't try to fake me out. Like I said, you look as exhausted as I'm sure I do, and this is an unlisted hangar. Get some sleep. The Shadow's not going anywhere, and neither am I."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
For a moment all Juno can do is stare at the thought of sleeping while bringing the ship in for a landing. Seriously, how can someone be that stupid? She remembers to close her mouth, though, shaking her head, face screwing up like she'd bitten into an incredibly sour fruit. "Why would you sleep in the cockpit while you're bringing the ship in for a landing?" How do you even do that?

Reaching up and rubbing her face with a hand, somewhere between flabbergasted and exasperated, she shakes her head. "You're welcome, I think, but that's just basic common sense. I have to wonder where Lord Vader found these other pilots, personally. Small wonder you'd gone through seven of them."

One has to wonder how they survived their previous postings, and how they lasted as long as they did in their assignment as the Rogue Shadow's pilot.

After a moment she simply shrugs. "Anyway, that's how I got through several of your missions. Cat-napping, and keeping an ear to the open channel. I've actually trained myself to fall into a sort of half-sleep. It's not really any real substitute for deep sleep, but it gets me through if I need it."

"Dumb luck. I'd believe that. You've got plenty of it," she adds, chucking him on the arm. It's not really forceful enough for a punch; just enough to get her meaning across. "Oh, you never thought the Rogue Shadow would come clean after that? Try doing the actual scrubbing. I swear it didn't smell right for weeks."

She may have an interest in xenobiology, and she might find worlds like that beautiful, but there's an undercurrent of taint on Felucia that even she can sense, and it makes her uneasy. Never mind that the moment the Rogue Shadow was brought down on the surface, something or the other was trying to eat her, the ship, or both.

Probably could've, too, if she hadn't had her blaster and the ship's solitary laser cannon handy.

Juno is at least awake enough to help Galen to his feet when he takes her hand, although it takes bracing herself opposite him to do so. He's a shade taller than her and plenty more solid. She doesn't do much brawling, and it shows.

Taking him by the arm, she immediately moves to steer him back to the sleeping quarters, though not without something of a glare.

"Oh, no. I don't think so. That's a great try, I'll give you that, but I'm not stupid enough to assume you're going to get some sleep once I'm out like a light. I could order PROXY to make sure you get some sleep, but he'd just try to kill you in your sleep or something." She pushes him into the room, with a little more force than may be strictly necessary.

Towards the cot, too, but not before she whisks off her cap and tosses it aside, to the little desk crammed into the room's corner. "Come on. Off you go. I'm not accepting no for an answer, Galen. I really don't want to have to resort to anything drastic, you know." She doesn't quite smirk. "I will if you force me to those sorts of measures."

"Here. I have a propopsal for you. We'll both get some sleep. How does that sound? You take the cot; I can sleep on the floor, and I've probably slept in worse." She folds her arms, leaning on the doorframe. "Will that satisfy your stubbornness, or do I have to hit you with the stun setting of my blaster?"

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen shrugs. "He was a moron. Didn't much care for him. Always asking questions. I didn't kill him myself because I needed to meditate on my missions," he says, "I didn't question it when Lord Vader choked him out and fired him out of the airlock. He kind of had it coming." He totters on his feet, but is soon solidly grounded. "Lucky number eight I guess," he says, smiling a sincere smile. Juno's sleep habits cause a stir of worry in his stomach, but Galen keeps quiet about it. No need to poke on one subject for so long. They were both tired, perhaps he moreso just because of the months spent grounded on his hunt for Shaak Ti. Even her small punch against his arm causes him to wobble, but he straightens back up. He rolls his eyes about the Felucian mess, knowing that she had spent a long while cleaning while he was meditating on the way back. "Never again," he says, shaking his head, "Felucia is nasty." As they reach the sleeping quarters, Galen slogs over toward the cot.

Rather than fall down on it though, he shakes his head. "Alright, fine," he says, "You got me there. I like the idea, but only one thing. I'm gonna insist you take the cot. That way, you have to step on me if you want to try and sneak off to work on the ship. Do that, and we can finally get some rest. Don't think that just because I'm tired doesn't mean I can't still fend off blaster fire."

He gives a small, warm smile, but it has an edge to it. He's sticking to his guns here.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"You must be bad off if that's enough to take you off your feet," Juno comments, eyeing her fellow Inquisitor with some concern. She isn't really a brawler, and it shows. Even if she genuinely wanted to hurt someone, she's just not cut out for ground operations, especially without a blaster in her hand. "Well, that'll be cured soon enough."

"I hope so, too. With some luck we'll never need to go back to Felucia, either. Logically, I doubt Shaak Ti would actually return there. The Empire would be watching Felucia, and she has to know that..." Juno stays where she is, arms folded and leaning against the doorframe; in part because it's comfortable, and in part because it's keeping her upright. Squinting at Galen, she drums her fingers on the opposite forearm, considering. "Hmph."

"And I'm going to insist you take the cot, because you need the sleep more than I do." Juno stabs a finger at the unassuming piece of bolted-down furniture. "It's all yours. What are you waiting for? If I get up and sneak off to work on the ship, you're going to hear it from anywhere inside the ship. Besides, there really isn't much left to do but close that access hatch. At this point it's just a matter of waiting for the diagnostics and processes to sort themselves out, and I can hardly rush that along."

"Besides, if you take the floor, you're going to be sneaking off to do who-knows-what. You can hear me moving around. I can't hear you. I'd call that an unfair advantage." She smirks, but the expression has an edge, just like his smile.

Another few seconds of considering, shrugging out of her Imperial jacket as she does, tossing it onto the desk. Normally the ship's too cold to go sleeveless without the sublight engines or the hyperdrive running, but it seems she's adjusted the temperature controls to suit. A white halter top is hardly standard Imperial uniform, but she's got a little more freedom than most, being somewhat outside the ordinary chain of command. Folding her arms, she absently rubs at one arm with the opposite hand, thumb tracing an old thin line from some engineering disaster or another. "I'd say we both take the cot just to put an end to it," she sighs, "but I sincerely doubt we'd both fit. Unless you insist," she adds, looking away.

"If it's the only way you're going to get any sleep, though, I'd be willing to try it... or I suppose I could go rummaging in the first-aid barrel and see what I can find to put you out." She grins, a little nastily. "Enough sedatives would put even you under, I'd think."

Shrugging, she reaches up and unclips her hair – it looks short most of the time, but that's just because of the severe twist she tends to favour. It keeps it out of her face, or whatever starship guts she happens to be digging around in at the moment, but it also means she doesn't need to sacrifice that, too. Raking her fingers through it – it's actually quite a bit longer than it looks – she sihgs, folding ehr arms again. "Cot," she finally orders, pointing. "I'm not kidding, Galen. You've been on the ground, without support, hunting down a Jedi Master for months. You need it more than I do, and I promise I'm not going to go sneaking off to deal with the ship. It'll keep until morning."

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
Galen smirks sleepily. "I haven't been fighting at all, just searching, so I haven't had much use of my fighting skills in months." He attempts to stifle a yawn, but doesn't succeed, holding a hand up to block it. Despite the fact he wants to argue with Juno on the bed issue, he doesn't have the strength to. Even his earlier comment of being able to fend off blaster fire was a lie. He shakes his head, his vision going blurry, but he's got enough strength left to pay attention.

"If I go to sleep, I'm not moving for awhile," he notes, but shakes his head. At the mention of sharing the cot, he smirks. He eyes the piece, then sizes himself and Juno up.

"You can sleep on your side, right?" he says, "If we both lay on our sides, we can easily fit. And, since it was your idea to begin with, I think we're going to go with it." He yawns again, then shakes his head to clear the cobwebs. "It seems like a fair compromise. I'll sleep toward the wall so I can't get up without you knowing, I'll be able to tell if you try and fuss with that panel without sleeping, and we'll both be happy, right?"

He doesn't wait for a response; sleep instinct finally starts kicking in and getting him moving. He slides onto the cot, laying on his side and facing outward toward Juno. "Besides. You should know by now. You try and sedate me and I'll stay awake just because." He smirks, but there's no edge to it anymore. His eyes are visibly and immediately glassed over.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
The pilot snorts. That explanation apparently isn't good enough, no matter how practical it might be. She leans down far enough to jab him in the shoulder with a forefinger. "Maybe not, but it doesn't change the fact that you've been on high alert for weeks, and you probably haven't slept any more than I have over the past few days, by the look of you."

If you don't take care of herself, her pointed look seems to say, I'm going to do it for you and you probably won't like it.

"Well, that's the general idea." Juno resists the urge to roll her eyes. Of course he won't be moving for a while once he goes to sleep. That's the idea. "I can sleep any way I have to. Have you ever tried cat-napping in a TIE Fighter cockpit? Not comfortable, let me tell you. And not recommended, either. It's like trying to sleep in a matchbox. Actually, a matchbox might be more comfortable."

Her eyes flick to the cot, studying it for a moment; calculating its dimensions relative to both herself and Galen. He might be a smidge taller than she is, but he's whip-thin and wiry, and she's just as lean as he is. They'll fit, but it's going to be a tight squeeze. Neither of them are going to be very comfortable, but at least they'll get some kind of sleep. More important, it'll satisfy each of the other's stubborn pride... because neither of them are going to back down on that point.

"Fair enough," she finally concedes, stifling a yawn of her own. She settles down beside him, if only to shove him out of the way and further against the wall (well, he did offer, and she does need some sort of room so she doesn't roll right off the edge). "Yeah, you would, wouldn't you?" she mumbles, gathering up her hair in a messy twist over one shoulder. "Just to be contrary."

Reaching over, she gives the side of his face a companionable pat, smiling down at him without the usual sarcasm. There's something strangely endearing about him when he's this tired. A different side of him, one his Imperial allies would never be permitted to see; she wouldn't necessarily say 'vulnerable,' but certainly rare. "Good night, Galen. Try to get some kind of sleep, won't you? I'll do the same."

And after they've had time to run the ship's diagnostics, she adds silently, she'll see about having this bloody useless cot ripped out, and something large enough for them both installed. If that's what it takes to make sure the stubborn, stubborn Inquisitor gets enough sleep, then it's a small price to pay. It's hardly embarrassing, to her; she's been enough of a soldier for long enough now that her dignity died a long time ago. After a while one stops caring about perceptions, and simply does what needs to be done.

Never mind that she doesn't mind too terribly, herself.

"If you get up," she adds, twisting to look at him over her shoulder, entirely too sweetly, "I will notice. And I promise that I will plug you with that blaster." Reaching over, she pats his arm; it's clear he's already starting to fade, and quickly. Just as well. She's starting to fel that way, herself, and this time she doesn't bother stifling a yawn, curling up with her back against him, head resting on her outstretched arm. "Mmph. Good night, Galen."

He'll know, if he can even stay awake that long, when she's actually fallen asleep – it doesn't take long, but there's no mistaking when she finally relaxes. Relaxation isn't a state common to her.

She must be tired, though. She's out like a light as soon as her eyes close.

Galen Marek (731) has posed:
The Inquisitor offers no further arguments as Juno settles onto the cot next to him. He slides toward the wall, resting his back against it and straightening out. It's a small gesture, but it would give her a little more room to stay put. He chuckles, closing his eyes but keeping his mind engaged. "If I get up, it'll be because we have something happening," he says quietly, "I don't think I'm going to be waking up for awhile." He yawns again as Juno settles in, smiling as she pats his face.

"Sometimes I just need to prove a point, you know?" he says, "But sure, if it'll make you feel better, I'll let you take a shot or two." He chuckles again, feeling his grip on consciousness slipping fast. As she pats his arm, he smiles serenely.

"Sleep well, Juno," he says. He reaches out, his mind starting to fall asleep, but not before she does. He rests his hand on her arm before he finally allows sleep to take him.