Beyond - Legends "The Last Romantic" [30 ABY; AU]

The lone gunship rode into Prospect City through the brass-red dust-storm that filled Vallone's endless sky.

Alone at the controls, the pilot noted the contrast between the atmosphere through which he was flying, and the cockpit in which he sat. Beyond his canopy, a turmoil of billowing ochre filled the sky, lit up by the star-bright beams of his ship's foul-weather navigation lights: a bright copper dust colour close to the hull, shading out through cloudbanks of bronze and dark maroon, into distant darkness.

Inside the hull, seperated by just a thumbspan of armoured clearsteel, was the more intimate darkness that he called home; cool and calm, with velvet shadows and smooth metal panels, lit by quiet computer lights.

A question from the flight controller crackled in his ears, and he flicked forward a switch, transmitting his answer. Their acknowledgement came back almost instantly, and he leaned some weight on the controls, adjusting his course to follow in along their flight-path beam.

Ahead of him, parallel rows of guide-lights flickered alive in the sky on either side of his approach, retreating into infinity - or seemed to, anyway; in this weather, they were probably holos, rather than physical buoys.

He sighed slightly, and glanced at his own in-atmosphere nav instruments. In silence, he flew on.

Eventually, the silhouette of the city rose through the dust - a sprawling, shady horizon of landing-pads and man-made structure, gathering up taller in the centre, with spires which might have been mining rigs or accomodation towers.

The controler said some more words through his headset, and the flight-path signal switched to a new beacon, away on the left of him. He made a sharp snap-turn, and saw a landing pad lit up beneath him - almost underneath his keel already.

Without complaining, he killed his forward speed, and spiralled down and in for touchdown. He gained a slight feeling of satisfaction from the smartness of the tricky quarter-roll with which he set the Firespray down on the deck, but he completed the landing without pause, shutting down everything except the automated defenses.

Then he dropped from his seat, knees jarring in a way that reminded him he was no longer young, but which also told him that his body wasn't going to let him down completely quite yet.

A man he'd killed once had told him that pain was the body's way of telling you what was going on.

Some sort of Mandalorian thing, if he remembered right.

He was already heading back along the hull, towards the hatch.

The readout beside the airlock claimed that a healthy human being could survive for three minutes outside the hull, but that was emergency-only. He didn't want to have to spend a month in bacta just to reach the docking-bay foyer.

He checked his flight-suit seals, and reached, reluctantly, for the helmet with the breather mask, hanging on its prop beside the hatch.

Everything was in working order, and he donned the helmet, fastening the neck seals, then pulled on the long duster that hid the big blaster in its sling behind his hip.

He stepped through the airlock, and out into the dust. He could barely even see the deck - and there was no clear sign of where the pad ended, just vague hints that might have been docking-bay walls or buildings beyond.

But there was a square of bright light up ahead, an exit with an atmosphere shield across it.

He turned that way, and started walking.

***

A spill of light suggested a hatch opening, then a silhouette detached from the vague shadow of the spaceship sitting on the landing pad, and moved towards the edge of the landing pad.

In the control booth that guarded the exit tunnel, the little man whose job it was to watch the dock peered at his visual screens for a few more moments, trying to pick out details.

The little man looked up, as the visitor stepped through the weather shield. He was tall, and he moved with a lean, rangy confidence. A tau-shaped visor glowed on the faceplate of his mask

"That's a Firespray," the man remarked, l

 

*leans in*

No, tell me more...

Elena

 

So...





that's all?





Always good for a one shot.

 

Hmm? makes you wonder who good 'ole Cale is, and what the clones will be used for.

Parallels, eh?

KT

 

*grins* That's the idea, kiddo...

Interested?

Yeah? See above, my reply to Elena...?

Aye, parallels - connections, obscure canon references; possibly even an in-joke or two...

These two are both (my AU spin on) canon characters... you just aren't supposed to recognize them any more...

- The Imperial Ewok

 

My, that is a fascinating start, and now you've left me hanging. Is it a hassle if I ask for a PM if or when you continue? I am officially intrigued.

 

huh? How did I miss this?

I want more!

 

what's with the telling more part now?

an interesting start!!

- Mags

 

I'll do my best to remember, certainly. I have the beginning of something sketched out...

Yeah? As I said... I do have plans...

Thanks!

- The Imperial Ewok