On a forested mesa that sloped gently into the jungle sat a venerable YT-1300 Light Freighter with faded crimson paint outlining it features; from the intact front pod all the way to the engines. Some paneling looked new but others look decades old. Very little life could be seen from the steel grey machine, except for faint red lights meant to alert aerial help. Below on the ground, a ramshackle camp had been established and a faint blue light emanated from it.
“I am in the middle of nowhere.” Corran grumbled to himself as the datapad on the empty crate illuminated his face. His emergency transponder had been signalling for 24 hours local time and not a single ping had been sent back. It had taken a while to adjust the dish manually on the Crimson Venture to get an accurate reading of his location. What little signal the ship could lend him pointed to a potentially dangerous problem. The Ranger’s location, through the static, was just north of the planet’s forested middle band. Rumors claimed the most dangerous of beasts lived there, but what did he know? A settlement could be over the next ridge but… so could a predator.
“I wouldn’t be in this situation if I had known you needed maintenance before I purchased you!” The human yelled at the sleeping ship, which did not reply in kind. That wasn't entirely fair. He also wouldn't be on Ryloth if he hadn't come out here looking for clues on the murder of his father, and officially, 'patrol' for the Sector Rangers. Still, he wasn't entirely ignorant. In a secured up jacket on his person, he kept his tall-tale badge hidden from site and a blaster tightly hosteled on his thigh. For 12 hours he had scoured the hull to see why the left side of the engine had failed. In atmosphere, without thrust, you couldn’t get to orbit. Corran knew a little about repairing transports, but the Crimson Venture’s problem eluded him. He wouldn’t abandon the ship, he knew that, but he needed more experienced help.
“Hence the beacon.”
All there was to do was wait.
“I am in the middle of nowhere.” Corran grumbled to himself as the datapad on the empty crate illuminated his face. His emergency transponder had been signalling for 24 hours local time and not a single ping had been sent back. It had taken a while to adjust the dish manually on the Crimson Venture to get an accurate reading of his location. What little signal the ship could lend him pointed to a potentially dangerous problem. The Ranger’s location, through the static, was just north of the planet’s forested middle band. Rumors claimed the most dangerous of beasts lived there, but what did he know? A settlement could be over the next ridge but… so could a predator.
“I wouldn’t be in this situation if I had known you needed maintenance before I purchased you!” The human yelled at the sleeping ship, which did not reply in kind. That wasn't entirely fair. He also wouldn't be on Ryloth if he hadn't come out here looking for clues on the murder of his father, and officially, 'patrol' for the Sector Rangers. Still, he wasn't entirely ignorant. In a secured up jacket on his person, he kept his tall-tale badge hidden from site and a blaster tightly hosteled on his thigh. For 12 hours he had scoured the hull to see why the left side of the engine had failed. In atmosphere, without thrust, you couldn’t get to orbit. Corran knew a little about repairing transports, but the Crimson Venture’s problem eluded him. He wouldn’t abandon the ship, he knew that, but he needed more experienced help.
“Hence the beacon.”
All there was to do was wait.