ʟᴇɢᴀᴄʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴʙʟᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ
Coruscant had fallen. Again.
He had attempted to work with the Galactic Empire, but his ability to manage the weakened Unblessed movement had been stifled greatly. With the arrival of the Sith, he knew his time was up. They would not take such a passive approach to their investigation. They would not hesitate to slaughter if he was suspected. And so, he fled.
"Engine two has been hit."
The call came from the co-pilot, who was hurriedly making note of the damage assessment. The Senator looked at the pilot, whose sweat was mingling with blood from the gash across his forehead. That gash was a result of the previous impact of emerald green blaster fire coming from the pursuing Sith fighters.
"Time to hyperspace jump?" Achan asked, knowing it was more annoyance than productive questioning.
"Just making the calculations, now," said the pilot as his hands danced clumsily across the console. Clearly, his injury was effecting his motorskills. Achan had never seen him flail in such a manner.
Another jolt sent all three from their seats, sparks burst from a console near the co-pilot, burning his face. The man slumped to the floor dead.
"Jump now!" Achan yelled.
The pilot didn't even get back to his seat. But with a last half-breath left, instinct saw his hand reach up, and adjust their course. "I can't reach..." His fingers fumbled the hyperspace controls.
Achan jumped forward and took hold of his own fate, pushing forward on the lever, and the stars stretched towards freedom.
The shuttle exited hyperspace and immediately began to spin out of control. In the distance, through the view port, the blue-green of Naboo spun around in space leaving the last living occupant of the shuttle feeling nausea in increasing waves.
"High Republic Fleet Control. This is former Coruscant Senator Achan Jaikavi. My ship is damaged. Life support is failing. My pilots are dead. And I am requesting asylum."