'Whiskers,' a refurbished Lone Scout surveying ship, began to close on its destination: Coruscant.
More specifically, the ship was headed to Waystation Five.
Waystation Five was one of a half-dozen ancillary stations that supported Coruscant One, the primary starbase serving Coruscant. The planet, frequently known as 'the jewel of the galaxy' was home to over three-trillion souls. The traffic to and from the world was intense, and the orbital facilities helped to manage and maintain that traffic.
Crasdon Kaine, the Captain of 'Whiskers,' had been born on Waystation Five. He'd grown up there. Gone to school there.
His mother, Cormilla, lived there still.
When he'd heard that a terrible attack had befallen Coruscant, he'd canceled his current contract with the Discovery Exploration Corps and changed course to come here. Hopefully, his frequent employers would understand. If not, he'd just have to start contracting with someone new. DEC weren't the only people in the galaxy who wanted hyperspace routes mapped and systems surveyed.
But those were all problems for tomorrow. Today, he had only one priority: Check on his mother.
As he maneuvered Whiskers nearer to the planet, the tiny dots of the orbital stations began to take shape. He knew the way to Waystation Five without any help from the navcomputer. But it soon became clear that traffic was congested. His radio lit up with hundreds of signals. Some ships requested a berth at the station. Others requested clearance to depart through the dense clouds of refugee vessels. It was a mess.
He got on the radio and requested a berth, himself. It took an hour to get his clearance, and the station's docking control computer turned out to be overloaded. That meant that he'd need to make a manual docking. He glanced over to the seat next to him, where 'Fancy,' his droid partner usually sat. She was in a deep charge cycle after completely depleting her battery during their recent mission. Too bad. He could have used someone to talk to.
Eventually, he was given his route and a docking ring. He swooped in, narrowly dodging a transport ship that was drifting off-course. Then he flipped the craft and backed into the docking arm. The seal was made, and he locked his console.
Time to find Mom.
A short walk brought him out through Whiskers' rear hatch, and into the pandemonium of the station itself. Every corridor was packed with people. Some were racing this way or that, on some errand or other. Many were just sitting or even laying down and sleeping along the corridor walls. Evacuating a world of trillions of souls was not an easy task, and there weren't enough hyperspace-enabled ships to take refugees past system space. The planet simply had not been adequately prepared for a major invasion. Particularly not an invasion of this nature.
Monsters. Literal monsters were stalking the streets and buildings. The news was replete with information about happenings here. Although, a lot of it seemed more like misinformation. Crasdon wondered if anyone truly understood what was happening. He certainly didn't.
A uniformed member of station administration materialized out of the crowds.
"You're the Captain of 'Whiskers' aren't you? Crasdon Kaine?"
Crasdon was surprised to be approached. He nodded. "Yeah, that's me."
"How many refugees can you take?"
Crasdon blinked. "Um... none at the moment. I'm here to see my mother. She works here, in Engineering. Cormilla-"
The administrator- whose name tag said 'Betroli,' cut him off, "We didn't clear you to dock so you could have a family reunion. We need every available hyperspace-capable ship to take refugees out of here. How many passengers can you take?"
Crasdon frowned, "I can take on three passengers, but I'm not taking anyone until I see my mother." Fancy didn't need to breathe, or eat, and could stand in a corner, so she didn't count for the sake of passenger capacity.
The administrator cut the air between them with a chop of his hand, "Stow it. If she works here, she'll be neck-deep in it like the rest of us. We're paying 1,000 credits per passenger. You can take them literally anywhere with a space port. Just get them away from this system. If you take the job, I'll get you five minutes on a vidcom with your Mom. Best offer I can make."
Crasdon gritted his teeth. This was not what he'd planned for.
And yet... he couldn't deny that the situation was clearly dire.
"Fine. Who am I taking?"
The administrator fished in his pocket and produced three credit vouchers. Republic vouchers. It wasn't money, but it could be traded for money. Then he stepped back and gestured to someone in the hall whom Crasdon had failed to notice previously.
"Start with them. We'll get you filled up by the time you finish your vid call."
Crasdon tried to set aside his irritation with the situation, pocketed the vouchers, and extended a hand.
"Captain Crasdon Kaine," he introduced himself.
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