Location: Troposphere of Neshtab. Rapidly approaching Surface of Neshtab.
Relevant Parties: Arette
Silas Westgard
In the normally peaceful skies of Neshtab, above a normally peaceful little fuel-stop of a village, a dinky little freighter hissed in the air, spewing a trail of, admittedly beautiful, ionized gas behind it as it screamed. Relevant Parties: Arette

"Em! We're losing altitude! Left Ion Drive is slag. Imperials hit us good, feth."
Onboard, a tall, lanky creature crawled out of a maintenance hatch, a smile on her face and a madcap laugh in her voice as she let loose a spraypen of Bacta beneath a rolled up sleeve. Grey-skinned skinned, grey-eyed, and grey-haired, her nigh-monochrome appearance made her otherwise drab brown longcoat absolutely pop with color. Still grinning, this creature spun around, grabbed a canister of fire suppressant, and - lurch! - narrowly avoided hitting her head against the wall as several Gs of force suddenly exerted themselves against her. She just laughed again, forcing herself into a standing position with the help of a nearby safety rail.
"Anti-grav systems are shot too! Chit, I'm not gonna survive a landing like this." A grunt of pain, and Arette, Apprentice of the Sith, simply grinned wider, and began the slow process of dragging herself along the wall towards the airlock. "M8-B3! Descend until we reach - feth! - approximately 150 meters from the surface, then straighten out!"
The reply came as a series of affirmative beeps from the ship's interior astromech socket, and Arette grit her teeth and held on to the airlock's equipment locker for dear life. Good timing, too, because just as she had, M8-B3, loyal companion and maniacal scrapheap, damn-near sent the ship into a nose dive for the quickest descent possible, jerking back horizontal to the surface with the same abruptness.
Arette mumbled something about "fething lunatic machine," under her breath, and after a second of fumbling with the equipment locker's door, grunted in frustration and simply blew the hinges out with a small Push. Too much of a hurry to deal with this chit, she thought, as she strapped on a respirator - didn't have time to get a read on this planet's atmosphere, not worth the risk and then punched a button next to the airlock. She hugged herself to a rail as the airlock slid open, and then screamed as loud as she could over the howling wind.
"Ping my datapad when you land this scrap heap! I'm gonna go meet the locals." She didn't hear what the droid responded with, or even if it did; Em was a smart droid, though, it'd figure it out. Probably.
Inching closer to the airlock, Arette peeked her head out and down. Could she pull this off? Yeah. Just gotta wait one second, and -
Any civilians curious enough to still be watching after the sudden nose dive would bare witness to a humanoid blur dropping like a lead weight from the back of the damaged freighter -
And promptly colliding with the ground, the impact zone exploding in a cloud of snow and ice shards.
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