Master Maverick
SWRP Writer
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The Vultan was not quite as excited as the young Miralukan, but he wore a smile that almost matched the boy's own. There was a sense of pride, for some reason, and he couldn't figure out the reason. Vilado hadn't done anything all that special, but something about this whole thing gave Tross a unique feeling. Just as before, he'd have to meditate on it to figure out what exactly was up. Until then, he'd stay in the here and now.
The coming day for this part of the city-planet was not the same as it might have been for most other. This planet never slept, so to say the world was waking would be far from accurate. Rather, the transition from the night-time creatures to those that preferred the day was occurring.
Tross led the boy and his pet to a set of landing pads outside the Temple. There were a number of speeders to choose from and Tross chose a four-person speeder of brown and green. It had a modest, yet sleek design and would get them to their destination well enough. His identification was required, which he complied readily. His right hand was placed on a pad which took his prints and confirmed his identity. Putting in the VIN of the speeder they were to use, it unlocked the machine and Tross waved for Vilado to follow.
Entering the pilot's seat, he went over the necessary checks as he started up the speeder, warming it up. Pulling on the controls, he lifted it from the ground. Handling the machine almost as though he were bored, he backed it up quickly, jerking any who might not be ready, and quickly sped forward and up into the appropriate stream of traffic. "You'll want to fasten yourself in. Turbo too," he warned just as he made a sharp jerk right, dodging a slow moving freighter that was in his way.
Barely looking at where he was going, Tross navigated the ridiculous traffic of the planet expertly. A few times he even cursed a few passersby who cut him off or otherwise annoyed him with their driving. Even he allowed himself some lapse of control at times.
They were going to the old Industrial District. It had changed since those many years ago during the Old Republic, before the Clone Wars. Even so, it was still a hub of manufacturing, and no place on Coruscant was safe from miscreants.
Speeding along in the air, Tross cut across a few lanes of traffic, rather worryingly, and took what he considered to be a shortcut. Winding alleys and tight spaces characterized this path, but Tross made no mistakes other than close calls when some poodoo-head pulled out quickly in front of them. Good thing the controls on the speeder worked well, else they would have gotten into a serious accident a few times.
With little pause, Tross landed the speeder, powered it down and jumped out, seemingly all in one motion. He made sure he had his mother's saber and that his clothes were presentable before turning to the two in his stead. A smile grew on his face as he noticed their unspoken reaction to his piloting skills.
The coming day for this part of the city-planet was not the same as it might have been for most other. This planet never slept, so to say the world was waking would be far from accurate. Rather, the transition from the night-time creatures to those that preferred the day was occurring.
Tross led the boy and his pet to a set of landing pads outside the Temple. There were a number of speeders to choose from and Tross chose a four-person speeder of brown and green. It had a modest, yet sleek design and would get them to their destination well enough. His identification was required, which he complied readily. His right hand was placed on a pad which took his prints and confirmed his identity. Putting in the VIN of the speeder they were to use, it unlocked the machine and Tross waved for Vilado to follow.
Entering the pilot's seat, he went over the necessary checks as he started up the speeder, warming it up. Pulling on the controls, he lifted it from the ground. Handling the machine almost as though he were bored, he backed it up quickly, jerking any who might not be ready, and quickly sped forward and up into the appropriate stream of traffic. "You'll want to fasten yourself in. Turbo too," he warned just as he made a sharp jerk right, dodging a slow moving freighter that was in his way.
Barely looking at where he was going, Tross navigated the ridiculous traffic of the planet expertly. A few times he even cursed a few passersby who cut him off or otherwise annoyed him with their driving. Even he allowed himself some lapse of control at times.
They were going to the old Industrial District. It had changed since those many years ago during the Old Republic, before the Clone Wars. Even so, it was still a hub of manufacturing, and no place on Coruscant was safe from miscreants.
Speeding along in the air, Tross cut across a few lanes of traffic, rather worryingly, and took what he considered to be a shortcut. Winding alleys and tight spaces characterized this path, but Tross made no mistakes other than close calls when some poodoo-head pulled out quickly in front of them. Good thing the controls on the speeder worked well, else they would have gotten into a serious accident a few times.
With little pause, Tross landed the speeder, powered it down and jumped out, seemingly all in one motion. He made sure he had his mother's saber and that his clothes were presentable before turning to the two in his stead. A smile grew on his face as he noticed their unspoken reaction to his piloting skills.