Trade Station Three One One Nine Eight, or as it was affectionately called by many; The Boot.
The Boot, as it was named by so many smugglers, merchants, and freighter operators was a space station that had been around since the days of the Old Republic. The station had originally been built as a listening post for the Republic Military, it had been designated to look for Confederate incursions into the deep core. Since then the station had of course been retooled and retaken by merchants. The structure was now relegated to little more than a marketplace. People from this sector of the galaxy gathered on The Boot to sell their wares, buy trinkets, and take care of their mercantile needs.
The Station wasn't massive, only a thousand meters or so in length.
As its name would suggest, one end of it hooked a sharp right, outstretching into an odd curved angle to make the station appear like a large shoe. The Boot wasn't well defended, a few aging turbolaser positions and some rusted fighters in the hangar was all there remained of the Listening posts initial security features.
So far, that had been enough. Most pirates never bothered with the boots, knowing that it was so essential to selling their own wares. It gave the station some protection, since Pirates themselves relied on it. Of course, that wasn't always the case.
There were those pirates in the galaxy who didn't care, those who thought themselves above petty concerns of credits and wealth. There were those Pirates who simply did what they did for their own purposes, for the fun of it, for the need of thrill and destruction. It was those kinds of pirates that came to The Boot on this day, it was those kinds of pirates that dropped out of hyperspace only a few kilometers from the station itself, their ship a lingering mass of writhing organic flesh. There was no warning, no hail, nothing. The Bloodhawk dropped from the ethos of hyperspace and opened fire.
The initial volley tore at the Station's hull. Yaret-Kor and the powerful pull of Dovin Basal ripping at the Stations Hull.
Panic set upon the station, defenses were raised. Turbolasers came to life, shields flickered into being, and fighters scrambled.
A single message fell out from the Yuuzhan Vong vessel. A simple flickering image of a man, his head covered by the mask of a skull, it's visage flickering in and out of being. The holo-image splayed across screens all across the station, spliced directly into the feed. It sparked and shone brightly, casting a grim scare all over the The Boot. It's message was simple, easy to understand.
