May 30, 2016 3:46 am
The mottled clouds of hyperspace shine outside your viewport, casting dancing lights on your datapad. You have a standard 'pedia entry open about Corellia, but your mind wanders as you try to read,
Its not like this thing can tell me anything I don't already know, you think.
Your trip has been long and uneventful, and soon your transport will drop out of hyperspace above Corellia, and you will be home.
Home? you think, will I ever be able to call it that again?
A serving droid comes past offering drinks and snacks to the passengers, but you don’t feel like ordering anything right now. Your mouth is dry and your stomach feels like a lump of duracrete. You know that each time you have changed transport you have been heading deeper into Imperial territory. And you can’t get any deeper than Corellia without going to Coruscant itself. Security will be tight.
"Remember, you must each try to play to your strengths, but that won’t always be possible," the instructor had said, "in that case you will need to improvise. Always remember, the biggest mistake is inaction."
General Mirax Felidoron was a suave, handsome fellow who seemed to fill a room. His easy manner and the way he appeared to want nothing more than to become good friends with everyone he met must have been huge assets in his original career in the Imperial Senate.
He looked each of you in the eye as he was talking, his voice enunciating each point perfectly,
"But whatever other orders you get, I want you all to remember that this order over-rules everything else…"
He paused, checking that you were all listening and were aware of how important this was,
"Your cover comes first. Don’t jeopardise it."
The transport suddenly drops back to real-space and you see the planet hanging there outside your port. It sparkles in the light of Corell, glinting green and blue.
The transport banks and zooms straight down towards Coronet, the capital city. As it does you catch glimpses of the huge and numerous space stations that make up the industrial capacity of this great planet. In the distance the white arrow of an Imperial Star Destroyer sits in dry-dock, probably being refurbished. Bright drive trails dart about all around it, the whole scene a hive of activity.
Suddenly three TIE fighters come past from behind the transport in tight formation, escorting the ship to the atmosphere. Your heart beats harder in your chest, but you reassure yourself, this is all normal.
The transport joins a queue of other ships approaching Coronet spaceport, the pre-eminent hub of spacecraft in the entire galaxy. Craft of every type imaginable can be found, from sleek one-person racers to huge cargo scows, and even top-of-the-line military craft. The average Corellian is a true spacecraft fanatic, and one glance at the traffic here is enough to confirm that.
After a few minutes in the queue the transport touches down in its allotted docking bay and the passengers start gathering their belongings to disembark.
This is it. This is the point where the odds would say this is most likely to go wrong. You grin as you hoist your bag onto your shoulder,
A Corellian doesn't care about the odds!
You step off the mag-lev and into the terminal, which is clean, shiny and spacious. The crowds file through in orderly processions, following illuminated tracks on the floor. At corridor intersections and in the corners of the larger areas Imperial Stormtroopers stand conspicuously watching all who pass.
This is new, the terminal had until recently dealt with its own security, with back-up from CorSec. It would appear that despite their protests that this "rebellion" is just a few troublemakers, the Empire is starting to take some notice.
Its not like this thing can tell me anything I don't already know, you think.
Your trip has been long and uneventful, and soon your transport will drop out of hyperspace above Corellia, and you will be home.
Home? you think, will I ever be able to call it that again?
A serving droid comes past offering drinks and snacks to the passengers, but you don’t feel like ordering anything right now. Your mouth is dry and your stomach feels like a lump of duracrete. You know that each time you have changed transport you have been heading deeper into Imperial territory. And you can’t get any deeper than Corellia without going to Coruscant itself. Security will be tight.
"Remember, you must each try to play to your strengths, but that won’t always be possible," the instructor had said, "in that case you will need to improvise. Always remember, the biggest mistake is inaction."
General Mirax Felidoron was a suave, handsome fellow who seemed to fill a room. His easy manner and the way he appeared to want nothing more than to become good friends with everyone he met must have been huge assets in his original career in the Imperial Senate.
He looked each of you in the eye as he was talking, his voice enunciating each point perfectly,
"But whatever other orders you get, I want you all to remember that this order over-rules everything else…"
He paused, checking that you were all listening and were aware of how important this was,
"Your cover comes first. Don’t jeopardise it."
The transport suddenly drops back to real-space and you see the planet hanging there outside your port. It sparkles in the light of Corell, glinting green and blue.
The transport banks and zooms straight down towards Coronet, the capital city. As it does you catch glimpses of the huge and numerous space stations that make up the industrial capacity of this great planet. In the distance the white arrow of an Imperial Star Destroyer sits in dry-dock, probably being refurbished. Bright drive trails dart about all around it, the whole scene a hive of activity.
Suddenly three TIE fighters come past from behind the transport in tight formation, escorting the ship to the atmosphere. Your heart beats harder in your chest, but you reassure yourself, this is all normal.
The transport joins a queue of other ships approaching Coronet spaceport, the pre-eminent hub of spacecraft in the entire galaxy. Craft of every type imaginable can be found, from sleek one-person racers to huge cargo scows, and even top-of-the-line military craft. The average Corellian is a true spacecraft fanatic, and one glance at the traffic here is enough to confirm that.
After a few minutes in the queue the transport touches down in its allotted docking bay and the passengers start gathering their belongings to disembark.
This is it. This is the point where the odds would say this is most likely to go wrong. You grin as you hoist your bag onto your shoulder,
A Corellian doesn't care about the odds!
You step off the mag-lev and into the terminal, which is clean, shiny and spacious. The crowds file through in orderly processions, following illuminated tracks on the floor. At corridor intersections and in the corners of the larger areas Imperial Stormtroopers stand conspicuously watching all who pass.
This is new, the terminal had until recently dealt with its own security, with back-up from CorSec. It would appear that despite their protests that this "rebellion" is just a few troublemakers, the Empire is starting to take some notice.
