| abstract
| - Unlike the smoky bars and dirty cantinas of some of the outer rim plants and the mining worlds, this tavern was clean, bright and modern. Polished glass tables, and comfortable chairs were the norm. No ripped seat and scared wood, or dirty glasses in this place. High polished server droids moved quietly among the patrons, and almost each tables had a clear view of the rain endlessly pouring down outside. Seated at one such table was a human woman in her mid thirties. She didn't look out of place, dressed in upper middle class styling, the only thing that breaks up the image is the blaster at her hip. For Jal'Dana, being armed, even in polite society wasn't an option It was a necessity. She sat, toying with the rim of her glass watching the rain drops spill down the domed window. Lost in thought, she was alone and the server droids knew not to bother her. Stepping through the door of the tavern, Raxis L'ygr nods politely to two exiting patrons. Taking a moment to breathe in the faint aroma of sandalwood and listen to the ambient music roll over the atmosphere, he looks himself over in a nearby mirror. A little confused at the display, he's wearing a short-backed jacket typically fashioned to match the stylish uniforms of Corsec, but in a black civillian design. His typically rogueish style he'd believed may upset the locals, but still opted to wear the jacket regardless of how the locals' social methods seemed to not notice. However, he still boldly wore his blaster, as he was many sectors from New Republic space. Padding across the room, Raxis slides up to the dimly lit bar and looked down to a serving droid on a recessed ramp of footing to serve the patrons. It speaks to him in a soothing voice to ask for his order. "Coholl, Cassandran..." Raxis says, taking a seat with his blaster angled towards the bar as he sits sidelong. As Jal'Dana continues to watch the rain spilling down she can't help but envy the simple existence they represent. It was a simple force of nature, unmoved by war or personal aspirations, just falling to the planet without care. Very few would have ever guessed this was an imperial pilot. A woman of power, maybe, as she carried herself with a swagger that only came from one that could command, be it a war machine or business. But, with her hair down, out of a uniform she could be anyone or anything. She was here on business, but that was for later, for now she drank the clear liquid in her simple glass and enjoyed the storm. Hip to the bar, Raxis takes his usual glance around the tavern's occupants. Mostly Huhks sharing a discussion about business and trade endeavors, Raxis eyes a few scattered humans. Tilting his head slightly as his eyes fall over Jal'Dana Rall, Raxis' lips form into a tongue-in-cheek grin as he can hardly believe it. Sipping his Garqian blend of Cassandran Coholl, he waves the droid bartender back over and speaks with it quietly for a moment, ordering a glass of whatever she's drinking to be sent to her. Obediently, the droid accepts its payment and wheels over towards the offduty Admiral. Off duty was something an Imperial admiral never truly was, but this was as close as she got. As the server droid makes its was to Jal'Dana she turns slowly away from her moment of peace and arches that single aerostatic eyebrow and the follows the line of sight towards the bar. Taking in the man who sent her the drink, she masks her feelings with a polite smile. *Frack, not that wine seller. Of all the freaking places* As the droid leaves the clear tea on the table, the woman debates how to evade and escape, doubting it is possible. As if the storm is in tune with her feelings a flash of lightning illuminates the room. Smiling and raising his glass to her, Raxis smiles and judges her reaction. "Oh she hates me alot..." He says between his lips. Deciding to stay in character for the moment, he pushes off of the bar and makes his way over to her table with his glass of dark purple liquor. Stepping over quietly, he looks to her with a lifted eyebrow. "Of all of the places to run into you at, I find it amazing that you're here..." Raxis says, dropping into a seat across from her. "Good evening. Enjoying the rain are we?" Uninvited, as before this man was begging to be shot through and through. However now was not the time or place for such matters. She might have to place a call to one of her friends in COMPNOR, if you really could call anyone in that organization a true friend. "I'm lots of places, Mr Arbin." There was a slight pause as Dana reached for his name "However, most of them are not where you'd like to be." Her hand travels down the smooth glass, and rests at the bottom, her fingers leaving trains in the condensation. "I had been, and what brings one such as yourself here? Wine sales?" she eyes his drink, noting mentally he is not drinking wine. "An escape from my lying, deceitful ways, Rall..." Raxis says with a sip of his drink, taking a moment to stare out of the window. "...you know...back home I used to fall asleep listening to the rain. That's why I chose to come here." He adds, stopping to scratch the side of his head for a moment as he reclines in his seat lavishly. "So I'm begging to ask, are you here with your navy, or is this a private visit?" A smile passes over the woman's face, doing much to soften the warrior image and makes her look like a lady, however it fades quickly as she tilts her head at the 'imperial' civilian referring to the Imperial navy as 'her' navy. It was an odd phrasing, and one she noticed. "Did you see a battle group when you arrived?" She turns the question around, not really answering it, but to most it would serve as one. There could be a whole fleet out in a nebula or just outside or range, but they were not above the planet and that should be answer enough. "Well I suppose that's for the best." Raxis replies, sitting in his seat for a moment to regard her, and take another sip from his drink. Looking over the rim of his glass to her for a moment, a playful grin falls over Raxis' lips. "So I have a second question that I'm begging to ask. You didn't buy one ounce of me at the gala did you?" Raxis asks, boldy deciding that the Imperials would need to communicate to her first, to provide a fast enough blockade to cover his exit. Breathing in deeply and then exhaling slowly Dana gives herself time to choose her words. "If I feel for every hot shot or snot nosed rich kid that wanted to blow wind up my rear end, I'd spend my days on the floors of the senate listening to speeches about sacrifice while eating off of thousand credit plates. Or, I'd tune in the Rebel broadcasts preaching bout lofty goals and empty promises of ideals they know nothing about." Looking past the wine seller to the window for a moment, at the peaceful drops of water and then back again to him again. "No, sir to be honest, I think you are a liar, which you admit to, at the least and a con man at the worst. No real wine seller would be seen in a tavern, drinking anything but his own wares." "Well...at least I told you I was a liar." Raxis replies with a slight chuckle. His right hand moves to the arm of his chair for safety as he slips his glass into his left hand. "But what was I supposed to do, tell you who I really was? To do that would have been purely insane. Actually..." Raxis adds, staring out the window with her. "...I think for a moment during that gala I really wanted to tell you who I was. Twilight Express was it? Not my finest moment, but I must admit...you really did suprise me in that Z-95." Without so much of a thought, Jal'Dana's eyebrow arches up and she looks at the man in a new light. Her body seems to almost relax more than had she been talking to a civilian, and this was a rebel. But, he was a pilot. "So, this is your idea of hell?" she asks, gesturing to the drink he bought for her. She never even reaches for her blaster, which would have been a simple move, "Ghost 3, 2nd Lieutenant Raxis L'ygr. Call sign Raptor" she rattles the information off like it was her job. Because it was. "I surprised you because you were sloppy and complacent" Her voice almost sounded lighter, though the rasp that was her damaged vocal cords. "Sloppy, complacent, and ever so arrogant enough to assume that a courier pilot on a Z-95 Headhunter was anything but prey." Raxis replies, taking a sip of his drink. "Admiral Jal'Dana Rall, callsign Vapor." He adds with an appropriate nod. Scratching the side of his chin, he tilts his head to the side to regard her. "No, this is my genuine idea of coincidence turned into an opportunity to buy someone who shot me down, nearly twice, a drink. I figured I wasn't going to get this chance often." He adds, giving her a charming smile. "You had me sweating at that gala too. I should have expected you to be the same in person, hard to bluff and shake." Again Jal'Dana smiles her eyes dancing, "I gave you that much information, Mr. L'ygr. Did you also tell your rebel friends I let you live?" Dana lifts her iced torellian white tea and stakes sip. Returning the glass to the table she says. "If I shot you now, there would be no consequences. You know that right? The natives of this world would not hold an Imperial Admiral." The woman still had not reached for her weapon however, "I have little time for games, and no time for bantha dung. If you bought drinks for everyone that shot you down, you'd be penniless." The wicked grin as damaging as a laser blast. "No Mr. L'ygr, I doubt you'll have the chance again. It was bold of you to attend an Imperial awards function, you'd be hard pressed to do it a second time" Genuinely laughing, Raxis gives her a broad grin and puts aside his ego for a moment. Shaking his head, he smiles to her. "I suppose I very dearly deserve that. Krieg got a pretty good hit on me too." He adds, shifting in his seat to move his hands to show the angle. "It was going to be a four on one and I opted to entry with a proton. I had a Y-wing patrol to protect. Because I was shot down every last one of them was killed in action." He adds, sobering a little to give her a serious look. "It was that day specifically that I learned a good lesson I'll never forget. Not to mention I realized when I met you that you didn't destroy my craft and myself as well because you were taking an exit vector. I once thought it was mercy. After our talk at the gala, however, I realize you're very merciless in that uniform." He pauses, sipping his drink again to regard her. "But yes...I could have shot you while you were gaping out of the window and I didn't. I'd like to think that if you're responsible for my death or mine yours it'll be done in the right place." Having given the rebel his due for courage, Jal'Dana was also aware he was trying to garner information, something he'd never be successful at. Shrugging slightly, "You could have drawn your weapon, but from the distance, someone would have stopped you. They don't like such violence here." Inclining her head to the table of beefy looking humans in the understated clothing. "Or, they would have arrested you. Of course an Imperial Admiral for a rebel pilot is a great deal. If you're willing to die." Shaking her head, "Mercy is not what war is about, Mr. L'ygr. And you lived because it served my needs at the time." Leaning back in her seat the woman was quite relaxed "You have some skills, I'll give you that. But you fly loose and a bit sloppy. Someday, when I'm slower and there is a better pilot, I'm sure I'll die as all pilots do. However, you wouldn't had made those mistakes had you been an Imperial pilot. Ever though of that?" Then laughing at an after thought, "And the inverted move is garbage, had you been less of a showboat, you had me in a vector 3 turn, with an exposed port" "Yeah, I've somewhat given up on that maneuver unless I need a specific case of a dive down." Raxis replies with a chuckle, lifting a brow at the mention of having known this if he had been an Imperial pilot. "I've been spending countless hours in the simm to correct on some of that, perhaps that will take me where I go. That or trial by fire." Raxis replies, looking up to her with a glint in his eye. "I can assure you I'd be more technical at this point if I were an Imperial pilot, but alas I'm not. I'm a Ghost. What can I say. We keep rolling with the kicks." Shaking her head, "It's a waste of talent. And if you don't die before you see that, we could place you in the ranks quickly enough; the cream always rises to the top in our star fighter corps. The same can not be said of your rebellion." Then with a shrug of her shoulders, "So, what did you learn by attending our little gala Mr. L'gyr? Did you need to see the faces of your enemy? Or was it something more?" Watching her, sensing the conversation had taken a strange turn, Raxis eyes her from across the table. "I first went, needing to see their faces. Of course, now we have a better idea of who we're shooting at. I think my ego drove me to speak to you more than it was a necessity, but that night changed me to a degree. I must say you are all very well coordinated and professional." Raxis adds, sipping from his drink again. Shaking his head, he watches her from across the table. "But I'm afraid I'll have to decline your offer. The only thing that people hate more in warfare is a turncoat. Even if I didn't have my own personal reasons to wage my life against the Empire, there's a part of me that would rather die without that on my conscience." He adds, cracking a smile. "I already have a guilty conscience as it is." The woman smiles and gave a shrug, in the history of the galactic war there had been many on both sides that had pangs of guilt and turned there back on their lives to fight for the other side. Both rebel and imperial officers defecting. Of course both had to face suspicion or re-education but it was there. "Well, it is a shame to waste potential, but if your goal is to destroy the empire so be it" she as a brush off of sorts, as if the war was a simple thing that would be decided on the field. In truth Jal'Dana knew in was a war that would be won in the hearts and minds of the people on each world, and until a majority rose up for one side or the other, it would remain a constant past Dana's years on the grid. "And what of you? What insight do you think you've garnered from me or about yourself? Now that the shroud of your image has been stripped away?" From from being an Admiral, commanding legions of troops, Jal'Dana was talking to Raxis like a person. She was just a woman talking with a fellow pilot about life. She left the war to the side for now, but as before and always, it was only a breath away. Setting his drink down, Raxis leans back in his seat, becoming more comfortable with the conversation as they go. Brushing a lock of hair away from an eye, he pauses for a moment to watch her from the other side of the table. Many people he knew and saw each day would kill for such and opportunity, and he knew he was wasting it. Reaching his hand out to roll over his glass, he looks up to her again. "What I've learned is this. Many...and I mean many...of the people fighting the war on the side of the New Republic are doing so for an emotional reason. They feel like they can never have peace, a home, or a family with the Empire in place. There's too much history. The cleanliness and statistical maneuvering of the Empire doesn't leave much for apology when a family's life is destroyed as a necessity for any reason. So naturally, I'd assume there are many Imperial officers that believe that this emotion is going to win them the war. You? I don't believe that you'd make that arrogant assumption." He pauses sipping his drink again. "But in all of that precision and sacrifice I see alot of life lost. Lives dedicated to a sole purpose from which others will benefit and they will not. I can say that I believe that I do the same, but I hope for a family or home by the sea when all of this is over. Many of your soldiers will remain dedicated until death. Some of them don't get a chance to live, the way that I do. So...I respect them." Raxis adds, features softening as he looks up to her. "What about you Rall? Is there a Mr. Rall? You know...this war is going to either kill or ruin people like ourselves. Turning the page over, I can offer you a chance to come over to our side. When this is over you could retire," He motions to the window. "Come and watch the rain fall and grow old, drinking tea. Democracy has its benefits, but you'll have a better chance of this with us winning." The woman listens as the X-wing pilot goes on about ideas, and democracy. The nave musings of the young only starting to be touched by the realities of the real world. "The Rebellion speaks of peace, while they send squadrons to raid civilian depots and don't forget they attacked first." It was a dismissive statement, and of a time before Raxis was most likely born. "An Imperial killed my father, so I shall fight until my dieing day. Oh, I'm sure you've heard that numerous times. But, on the converse side, how many Imperial's have died at the hands of Rebels? Did you think they didn't have children? It's an endless cycle. Jal'Dana shakes her head slowly, "No, the Empire protects it's people from the wolf's a the door. Your comrades out for their own piece of the pie, hundreds of mini empires looking for self while speaking of the greater good." Jal'Dana takes a long moment to study the young man before her. An enemy that still was searching for meaning where she had long ago decided there was none. "Be careful, Raxis." She uses his first name to drive home the point she is making "Every revolutionary ends up either by becoming an oppressor or a heretic. Real rebels are rarely anything but second rate outside their rebellion; the drain of time and temper is ruinous to any other accomplishment. The boundaries between rebellion, terrorism and criminality can be fuzzy. Rebels supposedly struggling for local self-rule or a juster society may be enriching themselves through extortion and kidnapping. And factions within such insurgencies sometimes help or are helped by terrorist groups with bolder aims and deadlier methods than those the rebels might adopt." She leaves his other questions alone for now, a small smile pressing on her lips. Dana knows he will ask again. "So..." Raxis starts, keeping his eyes on hers with a half grin. "I suppose that makes us the craziest of all? It's an endless cycle with no means, right? If there's always going to be an oppressive regime and a rebellion to fight it, regardless of how just either side is, why do we do this?" Raxis half-asks, bringing up a knee on his chair to drape his arm over it. Watching her carefully, he seems to be making an attempt at reading her. "No...better question. Since you see it in such a light why do you bother? If we're all a part of a neverending cycle, if it causes us pain or drought, then why don't people like you fall on our swords? I know why I don't." He motions to himself, leaning forward a little bit to watch her. "But what if I called your bluff? I think although we've killed people with families too you can't forget that entire planets have been condemned to death." He leans back, taking a sip of his Cassandran Coholl. "I suppose that's the ultimate question I've always had to ask. Do the Imperials know or understand this? What person can believe in a government that's willing to execute entire planets, like Alderaan who had no weapons, and then delude themselves into thinking anything but being used and worn out when their government is through with them exists for them in their future." He adds, with a grave look on her face, watching her eyes. "You're a very, very smart lady, Ms. Rall...do you ever ask yourself this? Sure...we rebels cry over Alderaan...but when does it not make sense to do so?" "Because it is my duty to stop those like your comrades. There will be no peaceful retirement for me because until the rebels wont let me. Do you think I'd be allowed to live, free or your retribution?" Again Jal'Dana shakes her head. Her tone is not harsh, but more conversational. The foolish or the perverse, those that would strike as they call for peace. The Empire protects its loyal subjects. The Empire offers prosperity, stability and comfort. Rebel propaganda says Alderaan was a peaceful world but that is all propaganda. Most of your terrorist leaders came from Alderaan." Leaning forward Dana rests her arms on the table, she taps her two pointer fingers together. "It is an imperfect solution to the problem at hand. If they gave up the terrorists, we could have punished just the, But, they didn't and their children would grow up looking for vengeance, just as I suspect you do. So, now there is no future generation to attempt terror and revenge." Breathing in deeply and exhaling slowly, the woman look tired. "Brutal? Yes. Fair? No. But war never is, both sides call it collateral damage." "My parents chose their death..." Raxis says flatly, watching her with a bit of fascination alongside the pain of speaking of his parents. "My parent's didn't die for the New Republic. They died for a much smaller cause." He adds, watching her with a hard glare for a moment before looking away to drink his liquor. "I told you earlier about a lesson that I learned when Krieg took me down and blasted my Y-wing recon..." Raxis begins, taking a moment to watch the rain fall outside. "If you're right in what you say, that you'll continue fighting because we, the New Republic, don't allow you to retire ...then perhaps this can make sense." He turns to look at her again, setting his glass down. "Those four dead men don't have a light at the end of their tunnel. They, right then and there, were forced to live up with that unpopular end of an oath that all soldiers hope that they won't have to fulfill. Their families and friends may never see it in the same light, but they fulfilled their oaths to the New Republic. Me? The lesson I learned was that I, just like them, am a series of equations. Chaos. Nomatter how good I am..." He lifts a finger to her with an impish grin on his face. "Or aren't...depending on who asks." He smiles again, continuing. "Someday, just like you say...I'm going to get old, or slow, or simply the one element that keeps pilots alive past their due...unlucky. When that happens. You and I are the same. We fulfill that oath. The lesson I learned was really, at the end of the day, that's all that I am." He pauses, watching her with a crooked eyebrow. "So we learn lessons, we die." He shrugs again. The woman reflects Raxis smiles with her own, "I can respect you as a pilot, but I don't respect your leaders or your cause." Tapping the side of her head, "If you're trying to gain a little insite to me Mr. L'ygr, I will give it freely. For you are bad at reading faces, and I know this. Nothing you learn about me will help you on the field of battle, and shall you live long enough to take command and meet me on the field as an equal, it still will not help you." The smile widens as she watches him, "You thing I'm being cocky and smug, but it is that at all. See, if you meet me as a true equal, then we are equal in every sense. For we would have equal conviction, equal forces, equal skill. So tell me what it is that makes us equal and I will tell you what it is that make me the Admiral." Leaning back again, Jal'Dana continues, "But as for death, when I was young, I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity. I am ready to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter." Chuckling softly, Raxis' eyes get a glint in them as he shakes his head for a moment to lift his glass. Bringing the tumbler to his lips, he downs some more of the dark purple liquid. Setting the glass down again with the soft scrape of glass over glass, he drapes his arm over his knee again to regard her. "Well you've given our fleet enough hell..." He adds, smiling to her. "You know...it's a shame you're not one of ours." He says, motioning to his glass of liquor. Stepping over a strange line, he gets a wry grin out of the side of his lip and watches her. "Jal'dana Rall...if your end ever comes, I suppose I should say this. If I'm the one that has to do it I will, but I won't like it." Putting her hands out wide, as if showing she is unarmed, "Now, you didn't answer the question. But you hit it on the head." Folding her arms on the table again, touching her still full second glass but not touching it, "If your death came at my hands, I would not think about it a second after the fatal shot was fired. You're a nice kid, and I'd welcome you to my command as long as you were loyal. To command is to serve, nothing more and nothing less" Turing her glass round, the clear liquid flowing in the opposite direction. "The most important qualification of a soldier is fortitude under fatigue and privation. Courage is only second; hardship, poverty and want are the best school for a soldier. See battles are won by slaughter and maneuver. The greater the general, the more he contributes in maneuver, the less he demands in slaughter." The smile makes Jal'Dana look more attractive, much like the colors on a deadly viper. "If you face me in combat again, advice is to draw the blaster and throw away the holster because If you're not gonna pull the trigger, don't point the gun" Slowly, a smile forms over Raxis' lips as he watches her. Pausing for a long, quiet moment the two observe eachother peacefully. However, before long he reaches out and takes his glass. Rolling the liquid inside of it softly, he smiles to her. "What makes us equal is that we're soldiers and we're not going down without a fight." He says quietly, watching her for an intense moment as he seems to be piecing an idea around in his mind. "Other than that, the only thing that seperates us is the way we do our job. We don't do it, people die. We do it? People die. Preferably less of our own than the enemy's. This is warfare." He adds with a quirky grin before drinking. "The art of killing them more." Downing the last of the liquor, he sets the empty glass on a passing tray and orders one more. "So Jal'dana." He motions to the window. "Why the rain for you?" "No what makes us equal is the love of flying, I can see it in your style. But that is it. We're not the same type of solider. And if you think we are, you're mistaken" Jal'Dana says, "You fight for an idea, for a notion that some day peace will come, and maybe just maybe the Empire will fall, and you will have a nice home, on a lovely planet and enjoy that life. You fight for a future of your making." Moving her glass to the side, "I fight for the now. So that the citizens of the Empire can sleep peaceable in their beds at night, knowing that rough men and women stand ready to do violence on there behalf." Then Dana laughs softy, the raspy sound replaced by a lighter one. "Art you say? There is no art to this. There is only one tactical principle which is not subject to change. It is to use the means at hand to inflict the maximum amount of wound, death, and destruction on the enemy in the minimum amount of time because in war there is no substitute for victory" Jal'Dana takes a moment to go back to looking out the window, "Because in never rains in space" she says softly, not explaining further. Watching her as she stares out the window, Raxis thinks inwardly as the tavern around them continues to mumble in quiet conversation much like theirs. Raxis had never felt so conflicted in his life as his fellow soldiers had never questioned his ideals, nor the ideals of any others involved in the war. Now, here he sat faced to faced with the cold fact that there were children sleeping in beds on Coruscant, be it controlled by the Republic or the Empire. "Your drink, Sir..." A voice calls to him softly as a droid places down his refill. Setting a few credits onto the droid's tray, it pads off slowly and returns Raxis to his quiet moment. "Perhaps I came here for the same reason..." Raxis says softly, taking a sip of his drink as he turns to stare out the window with her. "...they don't sell this stuff on base." A slight smile passes on Jal'Dana's lips as she looks back at the young pilot. He would have made a great addition to her staffed, once he was properly honed of course, for now he was just raw talent and emotion. Be he seemed steadfast in his desire not to leave the rebels, such was the pity. Her blue eyes held the man in check as his third drink arrived. Her tea still untouched, beads of sweat rolling down the cool glass. "Now I have a question for you, to see how you think. You command the field. Your right flank is hard pressed, your left is in full retreat, your center is yielding. It is impossible to maneuver. What is you action?" "Care to trade?" Raxis replies, motioning from his glass to her untouched tea. "Mine's not poisoned." He adds with a smile, setting the glass in front of her. "I'd pivot the lines off of the right flank. Rolling the center and already retreating left flank around the right flank like the center of a wheel." He replies. "With luck, an unseasoned commander would view the initial maneuvers as an attempt to use the right flank as a shield to protect a retreat. However the vectors could repeat quickly and create a new battlefront." Shaking her head at both his suggestions, "I never touch alcohol, my tea is just fine." She says waving off his offered drink, "As for your plan, a seasoned commander would continue to turn your flank, exposing your troops to murderous fire, you'd suffer devastating losses as the ships fleeing and caving would expose their unprotected sides." The she smiles slightly to soften the blow, "You are showing your youth." Stating the impromptu lesson again: "I would just attack" it was a simple and bold statement. "Mr. L'yg,r tell me what you regard as your greatest strength, so I will know how best to undermine you; tell me of your greatest fear, so I will know which I must force you to face; tell me what you cherish most, so I will know what to take from you; and tell me what you crave, so that I might deny you." Refusing to narrow his eyes, Raxis leaves his drink alone and stares at her from across the table for a long pause. Not choosing his words, Raxis seems to be beyond hesitation at this point. "I have no strength, no weakness, fear or craving that I'd offer to you, Rall..." He starts, his blood slowly beginning to boil. "I'm not going to give something to you that you'd use against me. Truth of it all I have no family you can harm and no ties. It would be foolish of me to give all of that to you, when you've given me nothing in return." He adds, refusing to back down from her. "You're going to have to wait and see how I can be broken." Sensing his anger Jal'Dana laughs, not cruelly but as he has missed her meaning to the questions. "Mr. L'gyr I have no interest in breaking you. If I did, I would have call for your arrest the moment you sat down and revealed yourself to me." Again she waves her hand as if waving away his youthful exuberance. "I have giving you as much as you have asked for. And more, if you considered the fact I am offering you a chance to join me, it's not an offer I extend often. No, Raxis I was telling you how I approach every battle. Those questions are the real questions to ask, not how many ship or men or droidsbut what the enemy wants" "Then I must look very foolish right now..." Raxis replies with a slight chuckle. Running a hand through his hair, he calms himself and before long is back at his usual posture. Taking a small sip of his drink, he sets it back down again. Laughing inwardly again, he shakes his head and then turns to regard her. "Mother always said I was too much fire and not enough water." He adds, draping his arm back over his knee to recline in his chair slightly to speak with her. "Of the many things I can say in this conversation, I'll note this is the best I've had in years. I find it hard to believe that you'd offer a chance to join you though. Perhaps you could say it's disbelief and caution to a threat but if you wanted me captive..." He motions to the door. "...you would have had me arrested. Perhaps you're mulling the idea. I've always done well with luck." He adds, pausing to listen to the rain for a moment. "Jal'dana...the fact is that I find it funny. We're out of uniform and I go in and out of picturing you in yours. There's too much conflict in this world and the only thing harder than accepting your own side in it is accepting that you have to put yourself aside. I do very, very well at putting myself aside. You seem to do well yourself. I'm gambler enough to know that you see an internal conflict inside of me, and I'll even go so far as to admit you've done an interesting job at picking the right words." He adds, and then motions with his hand to point at her. "So share your interpretation. I'd love to hear what you see Jal'Dana laughs deeply, "Picturing me out of uniform Mr. L'gyr?' she continues to chuckles for a few long seconds "My interpretation? Of what your internal conflict?' As Jal'Dana waits she reaches forward and take a sip of her tea. "I said going in and out of picturing you in yours." Raxis replies with a charming smile. "No, picturing you out of yours, or being able to for that matter, would be yet another tale to take to my grave. Not that the guys back home would ever believe it." He chuckles, taking a moment to sip his alcohol. "No I just want to see this conversation from your side of the table. I've just impressed you with my theatrics, wineseller costumes and military battlefield command knowledge. You've offered me a spot as what I'm assuming is a starfighter pilot for the Empire. I'm -dying- to understand this conversation from your angle." "Mr. L'ygr, I've been a pilot for my whole adult life and in the service of the Empire for just as long. I've seen many a person swept up with the romantic notion of the 'good fight' that the rebels pump into the heads of impressionable youth, or those that are disenfranchised. Like a crop that has been left in the field too long, the rebels leave these people out to be ground down from their new harvest.' Exhaling thought her mouth, "You're a decent pilot as it stands, you could be a lot better. I'm offering a pilot a chance to fly with people that care about something real, not a mythical utopia which in reality will be for their elite' Royal princes and princesses to lord over those that fought and died for their comfort." Jal'Dana is speaking franking and honestly no hints of deception or a recruitment pitch "I value skill, courage and devotion. I sense in you a struggle to find the real Raxis L'gyr, I'm offering that chance." Opening her hands again, "Maybe because the rain softens me, maybe because I know where you're at, because I was there once. Or maybe because I don't really want to kill you. But, the moment I leave this planet make no mistake, you go back to Ghost 3 if you decide to, and I will go back to slaughtering those that stand to wake up my sleeping civilians" Slowly, Raxis picks his drink up with the hand that is draped over his knee and stares at it. Features softening, Raxis sits and takes a moment to evaluate his life and his position in the war. He could trade one war for another, but the black stain of being a traitor causes an unsettled place in his stomach. Smiling to himself, he can't help but comment. "Well...that comment knocked the style out of my out of uniform one..." He says to himself under his breath before looking up at her, clearly weighing the decision at this point. Looking up, Raxis simply stares at her softly, without anger or remorse as for the first time in a long time, he's speechless. He'd never believed an Imperial would ever be fighting the war for the children. Instead, he'd always believed it was a bureaucratic soulless group of torturers. Before long, he realizes entire minutes have passed of his silence. He brings the glass to his lips and drinks, knowing well she's counting the seconds and marking their passing as a point. "The rain isn't softening you." He merely says, sipping his drink again. Moving her drink to the edge of the table, she signals one of the droids that she is finished with it. She smiles pleasantly at Raxis, and then moves her hand up to the center of her blouse, pulling slightly down she exposes some of the flesh between her breasts but not her bosom itself. There in between is a section of scarred tissue, the result of a sniper's blaster shot, it had almost killed her on Coruscant, and her back held the worst of the scars. "No, it isn't. Like I said, the rebellion won't let me soften, nor retire" It was the most expose she would ever be, and for that one moment Raxis had Jal'Dana Rall, and not the Imperial Admiral. Letting go of her shirt, it return to covering the scars. Looking back up to her eyes, Raxis makes no expression and truly hears her words for what they're worth, and allows the moment to pass between them. He realizes he'd never be able to win her over to the New Republic's cause. Sipping the last of his Cassandran Coholl, he sets the glass aside and watches her. "Jal'dana...I'll tell you this." He says, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before he speaks again. Leaning forward on the table, he props an elbow on it as he speaks to her. "I may be fighting for people that will do nothing but be bureaucrats. I may be forming a million small Empires with every victory that comes our way, but there are some things that are not propaganda. I've seen entire species enslaved. I've seen the work camps. I've seen and studied the logs and documentation of how well your former Emperor tended to his people." He adds, features softening. "Deep inside of me I feel like your people live on that whim and I wish I could explain to you that I'm fighting this war for the same children that you fight for. If I believed you would be safer and happier on our side of the lines, I'd stun blast you right now and drag you back with me. I know how much you'd never forgive me for that so I won't. But joining the Empire would be trading one incorrect side for the other." He pauses, watching her from his closer angle on the table. "Right now I'll be honest to say, you have me halfway to signing up. I want this war to end so I can have my future I'm praying for. I'm not betting on sides. I know that even if the New Republic were crushed, the people wouldn't be free to live as they choose. Even with order restored I know senators that even in their limited power would beg and claw so that children could be raised as they pleased. You are a beautiful and terrible person all in the same, Jal'dana. I wish I could save you, and I dearly hope that we don't kill you." "What can you ever really know of other people's souls of their temptations, their opportunities, their struggles? One soul in the whole creation you do know: and it is the only one whose fate is placed in your hands" Jal'Dana replies to the young pilot, knowing that while there is a seed of doubt in the man's mind, it has been too long in the dark to sprout. A soft smile plays over her lips and she looks out to the rain, and back "Your leaders are not free or crimes against populations, terrorists often overlook there own crimes as actions of war, yet hold accountable the powers at hand as the criminals. You will never see me in a Rebel uniform because regardless of what they label themselves, visionaries, freedom fighters, a Republic, they are terrorists." Jal'Dana herself had never committed a war crime, but she knew it did not reduce the rebel's view of her culpability. "My death is inevitable. No matter if it comes by your hands or another. The fear of death follows from the fear of life. Anyone who lives fully is prepared to die at any time. That of all things isn't something I worry about Raxis. Nor should you worry about saving me, who can hope to be safe? Who sufficiently cautious? Guard oneself as they may, every moment's an ambush. Yet, I sleep soundly each time I close my eyes" Placing her hands on the table Jal'Dana starts to stand, and as she does her whole body language starts to morph back into the Imperial Admiral. "Care for yourself Mr. L'gyr, for shall the moment come to pass where I or one of my people needs to end your life, we will without hesitation. War has no love, nor morality. It is a creature unto itself, and in the end history will judge me not but how I won or lost, but if I did." Standing to address her as she leaves, Raxis nods to her slowly. Still hesitant, Raxis somewhere knows she's right. Innocent blood was spilled on his hands as well as hers, but even regarding the actions of many of his own fellow pilots. The decision clearly having not left his face, Raxis stares at her. "If...I decide to come and listen to what your people have to say, will I have free passage if I come unarmed?" Raxis asks, watching her with a serious look on his face. Balling his hand into a fist, he grits his teeth inside of his mouth, staring at her from across the table. "You have heard everything I have to say. What you need to decide is of your own accord." Placing her hands oh her hips, "I can make no promises as to that. If you come as an enemy combatant, we can't very well let you up and leave with a weapon of war. Your current side wouldn't allow such a thing either." And then she reaches out and touches his shoulder for a moment, "The ISB is a powerful entity. However, on my word, if you contact me to speak of terms, I would do everything in my power to protect you on neutral ground" Flattening his lips, Raxis narrows his brow and lifts his eyes to meet hers. Almost cursing at his own frustration on the issue, he ponders the war effort and his own parents dead in the attempt to overthrow the Empire from his home planet. At this moment, nothing seems right to him. Reaching up, he pats her hand over his shoulder and nods a few times. "I have your word." Raxis says to her, his jaw muscles clenching and releasing at the tension. "You're giving me an opportunity to turn my back on everything that I believe in, and wonder whether or not it's right to begin with, Jal'Dana. I won't lie to you. I'd give many sacrifices to lay down on my home soil...a soil the Empire calls theirs...and spend a moment to take it in, but that seems to me like a sin. I..." He trails off, watching her. "...I have your word. Look at me in the face and tell me that peace for people exists if the Empire wins." He says, turning to her. "Can you do that? Is this new emperor of yours so different? Can I trust in that? Perhaps we're different in this sense...but I want my death to mean something to someone when it happens." "You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment if you don't trust enough. For a man who doesn't trust himself can never really trust anyone else." Letting her hand fall from Raxis' shoulder "I believe I am fighting for a peaceful and secure Empire. A place where it is safe and secure against threats. I am a believer. I do not know the Emperor, nor if he is a great man. I know he is our leader and I have to believe that his vision for the future will hold no place for me, I have no business in polite society, and for that I am grateful. All that will be left for me is rain." She offers a sad smile, "I hope I have no place in a peaceful Empire" Turning to leave, Jal'Dana makes her way though the tavern and out. Her trip had been more fruitful that she had expected. Gritting his teeth, Raxis turns to watch her walk out the door. With a hiss the door closes slowly behind her. Standing silently for a moment, Raxis sits himself down and orders another drink, and begins staring out at the rain himself this time.
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