Starwars - Sunday, January 16, 2000, 4:19 PM
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A small beep is uttered from the rear door, as it slowly hisses open. As it thunks to the ground softly, Bazil steps up it from outside, and carries himself in. Turning, he taps at the access panel, closing the door again.

Poguala is sitting on a bench near the cockpit, heading resting on her jacket, which is folded up to serve as her pillow. She is placid as she sleeps, obviously catching some shuteye wherever possible. This suits. She does not react to Bazil's entrance, her sleep having overcome her alertness.

As the door hisses to it's closure, and finally clinks shut, Bazil turns, appraising the area slowly... he notices Poguala, and walks over to one of the refresher units, reaching under it to the small storage area, and pulling forth two short stubby glasses. He pushes each in turn under the water dispenser, and fills each. Then, he steps over towards where Poguala sleeps, setting the glasses down on a table, extended from the wall next to her. Finally, he taps a finger on the Representatives's shoulder softly, and inquires, "M'am?"

Poguala stirs surprisingly slowly. She exhales, taking a moment to collect herself, then turns to see who woke her. She is either trusting or groggy enough not to jump. An eyebrow raises. "Yes?"she says in her deeptenor, as though nothing were unsual or untoward.

"Sorry to have awaken you, m'am. I have contacted Lieutenant Quila, to the best of my means, although she was on patrol at the time. As of yet, I have not received a response." Bazil replies, quite solemly, and just stands there.

Poguala listens, then slips the makeshift pillow from her head, sitting up. She yawns softly into a fist. "That is as expected, Lieutenant," she says honestly. She sighs, smiling softly. "I trust everything else is going well?"

Bazil nods momentarily, "Yes. There have been no more communications for you, and I have been spending most of today catching up on some learning. Mostly on the Sith, Jedi, et cetera. I have to admit, I did not know much of their existance or role in our history previous to today."

Poguala chuckles softly. "In a sense, Lieutenant, I am sorry you do." She stretches, elegant, poised, and modest, rousing herself from sleep just that much more by her actions. She folds her hands in her lap. "What have you learned, praytell? And what can I tell you about all of this, if there is anything I can tell you? I can imagine all the mysticism and such can leave the uninitiated lost."

"Well..." Bazil starts, "Mostly their involvement and prominance in the Old Republic, as well as more recent times. I have done some rather extensive research on their customs, and the like, from the databases. How they have helped us in countless conflicts against the Empire of late, etc. Some of it was sketchy, however..." He thinks to himself for a moment, "One question, most importantly, came to my mind... how did they come to be? Some sort of experimentation, or merely an evolutionary trait?"

Poguala licks her lips, shrugging softly, "I wish I knew that myself, Bazil. That is a very difficult thing to determine. I know Master Luke has told me that the Force, which is the thing the JEdi feelties all life together, has existed since time immemorial. As for th Kedi and Sith themselves? All I know is that hey have been in existence for thousands of years."
Poguala continues, "The ability to use the Force as the Jedi do seems to be a genetic trait. All the Jedi I know have evidence of ancestors using the Force."

"Ahh..." Bazil replies, softly, nodding. "One other thing... are the Sith and Jedi's identities classified? The only one I could find public references to, still living of course, was mister Skywalker."

Poguala sits very quietly then. Very quietly. Her sigh is deep and abiding. "The Jedi and the Sith are not...classified, so speak, Bazil." She sits back, taking up the glass of water offered some time ago, and speaks with it suspended sweetly in her hand. "They exist on a playing field that is separate from our own. Some of us can see them, sense them, as it were. Most cannot. They do not have to operate i nsecret, but many do, mostly to hide from each other. Does that makes sense to you?"

Bazil simply nods, "Yes. I believe I'm beginning to understand it, now. Have there been any estimates, or otherwise, on how many there actually are? Or is that, also, one of their secretive aspects?"

Poguala takes a meaningful drink of water from her glass. When she places it down with a resounding *clink*, she asks, in tandem, "What is it that is really intriguiging you, Bazil?" She chuckles openly, and continues with: "And why do you think I know, exactly?" Her question is not accusatory in the least. It is honestly curious, amused.

Bazil shrugs soft, a small smile sifting over his lips, "I'm just inquisitive... I have never heard of the Jedi before... they are a very fascinating sort. I was just wondering how far their levels of power and control reach. I suppose I just thought you'd know more..." He stops, thinking for a moment, "Because of the meeting the other day. I guess not, though?"

There is something that the diplomat is withholding --certainly. She makes no effort to deny that fact in her thoughtful eyes, her wry expression, the way her elbows come to rest almost conquettishly on her knees. She sighs. "Suffice to say my role in it is minimal. I simply try to help out where I can...and to invest some personal intrest in the events that unfold. As for levels of power? Control? I cannot express to you enough that most of what they stays amongst themselves, and that our lives, while enriched with their presence, do have to be affected by it. It is a matter of choice." A pause. "Entirely."

Bazil nods. The smile disappears slowly, and he says, "I understand. Oh... while I still remember, when might be a good time for me to participate in these exams you are always pressing me to take?" He again smiles, though not so much as previously.

Poguala seems somewhat surprised. "You have not taken then yet? By the Worm, I knew there was something I forgot." She sounds friendly, not horribly concerned -- but then again, she never does. Her placidity and centeredness seem to be her halmark and her greatest strength. Sitting back on the bench now, taking up her glass, she lifts her free hand to Bazil, saying, "If you have studied for the exams, Lieutenant, I can administer a test to my satisfaction now."

Bazil nods his head softly, again, and says, "Yes. That would be alright. I believe I am ready."