Pirate Station
Manaan Region
The transport was stuffy. Eight beings packed practically shoulder to shoulder. Corran didn’t mind the windowless shell of the craft. It was like any other working freighter he had ever been on in his youth. Even back then, not knowing if some junkyard fighter was going to shoot up your hull was ever present. At least they were heading towards something instead of hoping there wasn’t an ambush at the next hyperspace point.
Still, this was different. It wasn’t some warrant being served. It wasn’t spice dealers being arrested on the streets. This felt closer to war. Corran cradled the helmet in his hands. It looked old. Something plucked from an armory on Coruscant, dusted off, and thrown into the fray.
“120 seconds out,” A pilot called back into the cabin, his voice calm as if reporting on the weather.
Corran glanced up at the cockpit, mostly because it was the first words he had heard the entire shuttle ride. He put his helmet on securely, just as the manual had directed. The mask and goggles were to protect from being exposed to vacuum if the seal on entry wasn’t cut perfectly but beyond that, they wouldn’t save you from being jettisoned into space. He checked his light-up tag that hung from his neck. Echo 1. As rookie as he was, Corran had been fighting pirates on the ground in two operations already. That made him ‘senior’ for this mission, at least among the Echo squad.
“Look at that; first shuttle already touched down,” the co-pilot exclaimed to the other. He sounded more green than the one who first spoke. “60 seconds,” the first pilot stated, ignoring his co-pilot.
I guess I should say something. The young Ranger didn’t stand up, he just leaned forward from his strapped-in seat and pressed on the communicator, “Echo squad. You know our objective. We are here to rescue our own and secure identification of our fallen. I don’t intend to join either of those categories. So stay sharp and no heroics. I want us all to be eating cake in the mess hall by dinner time.”
The transport shuttered as it latched onto the hull of the space station and began cutting. Corran stared at Ranger Onn, the most veteran officer he ever worked with. Darmus being here gave the younger Ranger an odd feeling of comfort about this whole thing. That and Onn's technical skills would be priceless.
@Ecclessey
Manaan Region
The transport was stuffy. Eight beings packed practically shoulder to shoulder. Corran didn’t mind the windowless shell of the craft. It was like any other working freighter he had ever been on in his youth. Even back then, not knowing if some junkyard fighter was going to shoot up your hull was ever present. At least they were heading towards something instead of hoping there wasn’t an ambush at the next hyperspace point.
Still, this was different. It wasn’t some warrant being served. It wasn’t spice dealers being arrested on the streets. This felt closer to war. Corran cradled the helmet in his hands. It looked old. Something plucked from an armory on Coruscant, dusted off, and thrown into the fray.
“120 seconds out,” A pilot called back into the cabin, his voice calm as if reporting on the weather.
Corran glanced up at the cockpit, mostly because it was the first words he had heard the entire shuttle ride. He put his helmet on securely, just as the manual had directed. The mask and goggles were to protect from being exposed to vacuum if the seal on entry wasn’t cut perfectly but beyond that, they wouldn’t save you from being jettisoned into space. He checked his light-up tag that hung from his neck. Echo 1. As rookie as he was, Corran had been fighting pirates on the ground in two operations already. That made him ‘senior’ for this mission, at least among the Echo squad.
“Look at that; first shuttle already touched down,” the co-pilot exclaimed to the other. He sounded more green than the one who first spoke. “60 seconds,” the first pilot stated, ignoring his co-pilot.
I guess I should say something. The young Ranger didn’t stand up, he just leaned forward from his strapped-in seat and pressed on the communicator, “Echo squad. You know our objective. We are here to rescue our own and secure identification of our fallen. I don’t intend to join either of those categories. So stay sharp and no heroics. I want us all to be eating cake in the mess hall by dinner time.”
The transport shuttered as it latched onto the hull of the space station and began cutting. Corran stared at Ranger Onn, the most veteran officer he ever worked with. Darmus being here gave the younger Ranger an odd feeling of comfort about this whole thing. That and Onn's technical skills would be priceless.
@Ecclessey