WolfMortum
OOC Account
"Monitoring station thirty one kilo, requesting patch in to nearest traffic control tower for permission to land..." Zarack spoke clearly through the mic at the cockpit controls, his eyes ahead looking out through the viewing port, the reinforced layer that kept the frozen vacuum that was space from exhuming the air from his lungs. The Vast size of the planet was quite captivating, especially concerning the political wealth of power that came with governing such a system, the core worlds known for shaping the galaxy in such might and reform over the years of history that he'd been fortunate enough to read about. This was admittedly his first time visiting the world of Coruscant, a place that you'd hear tales of from all corners of known space.
"Unidentified craft, this is Officer Desroe of Sector twenty-one, traffic control station A-four three. I am unable to get a readout of your vessel; Under galactic mandate for all incoming and outbound flight; you are no doubt aware that it is illegal to forge craft verification codes. You are hereby instructed to to descend to the nearest security transit station...-Now shown on your navigational chart. A team will be ready to assess and delegate your means of arrival. Have a good day".
His brows furrowed, gaze being stolen away from the beauty that was Coruscant only to be introduced to the harsh security that kept the world from being overrun by the criminal industry or otherwise other political sabotage. The navi-display was in fact reading a new pinpointed destination, one that at a closer glance still remained some few minutes away, quite a distance from the typical civilian market districts that Zarack was hoping to browse.
Frantically sweeping the controls and accessing the Baccara's central computing unit, Zarack sought to change the Freighters signature as quickly as possible, silently damning himself from within for not having thought of it sooner. "Look love..." He exclaimed a little flustered though managed to keep the most part of his composure under wraps, "I've just had one hell of a flight in, I've been jumping back and fourth between hyper-routes for the past several weeks trying to duck space piracy that I was assured would be taken care of by Coruscant's anti-criminal climate..."; he was bluffing his back end away, there was no denying it though the officer had fallen quiet and remained listening so that was a good start.
"Can you please just be a darl', have another look at my ships read out again. I apologize for the secrecy though a lot of people out there without the sweet voice and grace that you have, want my cargo for themselves. You'll find everything's in order now..." Nothing in the way that he spoke to the woman on the other end of the line, reflected anything of the kind of man that Zarack had grown up to become. Lying and persuasion was just another tool of the trade these days and sitting back into his seat, he eagerly awaited the response, hands on the controls ready to high tail it out of there if things went south. Zarack had a feeling, a distant nagging that he was about to flag the whole thing. Taking a deep slow breath, his eyes closed half away as he tried to summon the most reassuring and persuasive tone, coupled by his refound focus in the force that flowed around him "Rest assured I'll be sure to check in with the nearest security personnel to undergo all the necessary precautions...You have my word".
"LV68362...The Baccara..." The officer on the other side of the mic responded somewhat reluctantly, almost carrying an uncertainty in her tone of which she continued, "Docking Bay Area Seven-zeta four is currently clear and awaiting your arrival, you may continue at your leisure...".
"Many thanks, Ma'am!" Zarack replied quickly before shutting off the comm's channel before she could come back to her senses. With the privacy of his own cockpit back in hand, he laughed to himself abruptly in his small success, soon guiding the large Freighter down into the designated port and proceeding with landing operations, "And who said a little flattery never gets you anywhere!?".
"Unidentified craft, this is Officer Desroe of Sector twenty-one, traffic control station A-four three. I am unable to get a readout of your vessel; Under galactic mandate for all incoming and outbound flight; you are no doubt aware that it is illegal to forge craft verification codes. You are hereby instructed to to descend to the nearest security transit station...-Now shown on your navigational chart. A team will be ready to assess and delegate your means of arrival. Have a good day".
His brows furrowed, gaze being stolen away from the beauty that was Coruscant only to be introduced to the harsh security that kept the world from being overrun by the criminal industry or otherwise other political sabotage. The navi-display was in fact reading a new pinpointed destination, one that at a closer glance still remained some few minutes away, quite a distance from the typical civilian market districts that Zarack was hoping to browse.
Frantically sweeping the controls and accessing the Baccara's central computing unit, Zarack sought to change the Freighters signature as quickly as possible, silently damning himself from within for not having thought of it sooner. "Look love..." He exclaimed a little flustered though managed to keep the most part of his composure under wraps, "I've just had one hell of a flight in, I've been jumping back and fourth between hyper-routes for the past several weeks trying to duck space piracy that I was assured would be taken care of by Coruscant's anti-criminal climate..."; he was bluffing his back end away, there was no denying it though the officer had fallen quiet and remained listening so that was a good start.
"Can you please just be a darl', have another look at my ships read out again. I apologize for the secrecy though a lot of people out there without the sweet voice and grace that you have, want my cargo for themselves. You'll find everything's in order now..." Nothing in the way that he spoke to the woman on the other end of the line, reflected anything of the kind of man that Zarack had grown up to become. Lying and persuasion was just another tool of the trade these days and sitting back into his seat, he eagerly awaited the response, hands on the controls ready to high tail it out of there if things went south. Zarack had a feeling, a distant nagging that he was about to flag the whole thing. Taking a deep slow breath, his eyes closed half away as he tried to summon the most reassuring and persuasive tone, coupled by his refound focus in the force that flowed around him "Rest assured I'll be sure to check in with the nearest security personnel to undergo all the necessary precautions...You have my word".
"LV68362...The Baccara..." The officer on the other side of the mic responded somewhat reluctantly, almost carrying an uncertainty in her tone of which she continued, "Docking Bay Area Seven-zeta four is currently clear and awaiting your arrival, you may continue at your leisure...".
"Many thanks, Ma'am!" Zarack replied quickly before shutting off the comm's channel before she could come back to her senses. With the privacy of his own cockpit back in hand, he laughed to himself abruptly in his small success, soon guiding the large Freighter down into the designated port and proceeding with landing operations, "And who said a little flattery never gets you anywhere!?".