Holy Kashyyyk, Porkins!

[Geneviève Lasedri]

Kashyyyk had seen its share of this war, overtaken by the Sith at one point and mauled nearly to death until--of all things--the galaxywide disappearance of trillions killed any ambition of the oppressors and the Republic was able to clear out the lingering forces and bring the economy back over time. The wookiees were not necessarily die-hard Republic fans, but it sure beat having the One Sith boot stomping on them all the time.

It was time to make a trip here to survey things and give the local citizens the reassurance that they were indded considered an important part of this grand Republic and that Lasedri was more than just a figurehead of some myth in a supposedly Galactic Senate that seemed quite far away. Considering all that, maybe it was even past time to journey here. And so, while its purposes may have been all political, the Prime Minister agreed that she should take time out of her allegedly plush seat and travel to Wookiee World. That was why he was sitting within the bridge of her CR90 at this moment, gazing out the prow viewport at the agricultural planet from high above. She had on her signature white outfit--complete with sunhat--and all that symbolism to boot.

"Rorrshyk One, Rorrshyk One, this is Echo-Marshall Seven-Seven, requesting a Code 17 landing," the captain announced, signaling that this was a dignitary vessel and they would be allowed to land no matter what was going down there--save a war, of course.

Some grunts and growls were heard over the comms in response from aerospace control, and the wookiee copilot of the Prime Minister's Corellian Corvette returned the favor. Interplanetary relations could be difficult sometimes. Thankfully, the Republic was accepting to all sorts of people. That was probably why it had lasted as long as it had.

"Thank you, Rorrshyk One. We will be maintaining--"

The entirety of the ship shuddered abruptly as a loud pop reverberated through its internal corridors and blasted even into the bridge. The ship noticeably yawed to its portside, alarming the captain and pretty much anyone aboard who was aware that this was not supposed to happen on reentry. Gen naturally whirled about to see if the source of the noise was visible--and thus not as dangerous as one was likely to assume immediately. But not so. "Repulsor malfunction on P-2!" came the call from engineering.

"Dammit! I thought we're supposed to be checking these things before each departure," the pilot grumbled, obviously not finding this humorous at all. He glanced out the port and starboard windows to make sure the escort fighters were keeping mostly in formation with them even as this little irritation was causing maneuverability issues. "This is too dangerous. I'm cutting back to impulse power until you get that repulsor back on-line! Prepare everyone for emergency landing!"

Gen just sat there, understanding that she was of no help in this situation. But she trusted her seasoned captain after so many years working together. She was confident this would not be the end.

Pop.

Okay, maybe it was time to worry.

[member="Lugus Porkins"]

 

[Lugus Porkins]

Lugus sat comfortably in his cockpit. He didn’t know what he did to get in the Prime Minister’s escort but he must have done something right? Or maybe this was a test. His sister was a ‘traitor’ after all. He assumed if he pulled his ship even a fraction out of formation he would be gunned down. It was a bad way to feel about his fellow pilots and his republic. That’s why he requested discharge. He’ll know by Benduday if the discharge is aproved. He wasn’t focused for this reason. Actually he rarely was anymore. He found himself more distant.

Lugus jumped as the Corvette tilted toward him on its portside. The motion startling him slightly, “Commander.”

Before Lugus could alert the fighter commander, he was already speaking to the captain of the ship. Confirming the situation? It looked like they had a slight malfunction in the port side Repulsor. Nothing too major as of late but landing immediately was a must. The repulsor still gave enough juice to keep them up even if it was half cocked.

They moved in formation leading the corvette safely to dock. It seemed odd that the repulsor give out now and not in the atmosphere or orbit of Onderon.

Fire erupted from the side. Lugus almost had a heart attack at the sudden change of scenery. Unlike before he jerked his steering column slightly. Pulling his fighter out of formation by a hair.

“Captain, rear repulsor is on fire!” No he wasn’t suppose to speak. That was the commander's job. Lugus forgot in that moment how he was required to play comm tag.

Sabotage. It had to be sabotage.

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

Gen was no pilot. Sure, she understood the essentials to shipboard operations, but there was little she was in control of for this situation. All she could truly do was watch and hope her captain would not fail her after so many years. One could have a perfect success rate up to one point, and that point may spell doom despite all prior experience and good fortune. No one knew when it was their time. But Lasedri sure as the sands of Tatooine was hoping her time was not now. Dying in a crash was not the way she would have liked to leave this universe.

It turned out the captain had made the perfect, instrumental call in returning to impulse engines rather than continuing to try the repulsorlifts, because not a minute after, one of the escort pilots reported that he had observed flames emanating from repulsor P-2. It was impossible to say what would have happened if it had been active, but Geneviève assumed that the second bang might have been a little louder and a lot more disastrous; possibly fatal to herself and the crew.

"Thank you, uh..." the captain could not remember the names of the pilots for the life of him in this moment of stress. He had expected the squadron commander's voice, but this one was unfamiliar. No time to debate over protocol right now, though. He had a ship to save and he was at least thankful for receiving the message.

"Rorrshyk One, requesting Ess-En-Are dispatch for..." The pilot delayed only a moment to check the predicted landing coordinate. "Sector Ee-Eff-Eight, approximately. We are making a landing under duress."

"Do you know what's down there?" the Prime Minister finally spoke, concerned about the stories she had heard about the wilderness of Kashyyyk.

"Us pilots generally try to avoid this world at all costs. But don't tell the Wookiees that." The captain took up the intercom device and called to the entire crew. "Tighten your pants and hold onto your crotches. We're due for impact in two minutes." He then motioned for the copilot to take up extra saftey precautions--specifically, protecting the Prime Minister.

"Madam Prime Minister, follow me." He gestured fervently and began jogging down the spinal corridor for the command room. Geneviève followed, her strides perhaps not indicative of one in panic but certainly not slow. She was in no hurry to die.

[member="Lugus Porkins"]

 

[Lugus Porkins]

“Fighters hold your positions,” the squadron commander came over the comms. “Echo-Marshall Seven Seven, we will spot you from the air. It’s too risky for my men to follow you through the canopy.”

Protect to serve. Lugus could only watch from his cockpit at the larger vessel began to drop out of formation. Lugus kept his eyes peeled just in case there were anyone near to pick them off. No one to be found however, and it wasn’t easy to watch a ship drop out of the sky - even if it wasn’t literally dropping. The canopy would be the hardest part to clear even in a ship that was functioning properly. You can’t see anything past the thick foliage.

Lugus turned his head as the ship crashed through even from his cockpit he could hear the branches snapping or maybe he thought he could. Then nothing. The pilots were silent as they waited for what seemed like minutes.

“Royal Leader to Echo-Marshall Seven Seven, Come in. Over,” he paused. “Royal Leader to Echo-Marshall Seven Seven, Come in! Do you read me? Over!”

“Sir,” Lugus paused so he could call the ship again. “Sir.”

“Porkins,” the commander sounded frustrated.

“I volunteer-”

“Stay in formation.”

“Sir, I’m a belly runner. I have the best scores-”

Lugus got interrupted again. This time however he was told to just not to get himself killed. He took that as permission granted. He pulled his fighter out of formation taking it down to the canopy. He gave the ship a little bit more thrust as he followed the trajectory path of the CR90. Part of the leaves cleared. Not enough as he came faced with a large trunk the second he got a clear view. He made a had bank to port tilting the ship almost vertically. That was when he saw the broken and mangled limbs of the trees. He feared the worse.

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]