Dagobah's Open Orbit

Quinton watched as the blue and white swirls of hyperspace once again returned to the stars of real-space, that is with one other addition. Sitting in the view port just right where Myriana said it would be, was a green looking planet.

Well damn, she was right. He said to himself.

Well, at least he knew that by comming here they were not completely wasting time.

He stood up and walked over to the communication station.

Now would come the hard part. As far as he could tell the transmission had only been hyperspace coordinates to the planet, and said nothing about where to actually land on the planet. The idea of trying to search a planet that is one gigantic swamp was not exactly appealing. All they could do now was to wait and hope that whoever had sent that first transmission, would try and do so again. Hopefully it would contain this persons coordinates, if not they could possibly trace the transmission back to its source on the planet.

Although there might be another option. Now that they were close to the planet they might be able to detect the beacon that sent the transmission. Looking back at the original message it did look to be using a standard emergency code. Regardless he should probably let his crew know what was going on.

He walked back over to the helm and activated the ship wide intercom.

Alright people, we have arrived at the Dagobah system. As I hope you have been informed we are looking for someone stranded on that forsaken planet. John while we are out of hyperspace see what you can do about the hyperdrive. Doctor I want you ready. If we actually find this person he may require your services. Myriana to the bridge.

He turned off the intercom and walked over to the ships sensors. He hoped that if that beacon was still transmitting, he would be able to find it.

It was about time we got to our location and gave the hyperdrive a rest. Now that it was off it would be safe to begin work. Say what you want to about tinkering and hobbies, but they were never like working on a real ship system. Although John my not say it, he loved his job. Whenever his lucky wrench was in his hand he felt a great sense of pride.

A smile crept onto his face as he looked at his wrench and memories started to flow in his mind. It had been the tool he was using when he met Quinton all those years ago. They were studying at Corsec Academy, John was on my way to an engineering specialization. Quinton on the other hand was training to be a pilot. Needless to say what the ships Quinton broke John got to fix, truth be told at least say Quinton always made it interesting. The Academy didn't last though. Something happened with blasters and a stolen ship... John was too drunk to remember.

John shook his head."there is always time for memories when hes napping", he thought. Its time to get to work.
Gathering his materials, John began to get to work. Welding the pipes would take a while. He just hope they don't make an emergency jump to hyperspace without telling him... again.

Myriana arrived on the bridge Dr. Perwar, trailing after him in amusement. Listening to him trying to be a real doctor always made her smile, since she knew real doctors. What made her smile was that he was not far off.

"Perhaps you may not recommend it, but there's a chance someone needs help," she protested. "Besides, we're not exactly defenseless."

She casually tapped the blaster in its holster on her waist.

"If it makes you feel any better, we can try to be careful. But I'm going down there, one way or another."

Myri turned to Captain Scott.

"How are we doing that, by the way? What's the plan?"

"That's another thing," began the flustered Bith,"How do we know this person or thing has any reward? I know that if I was trapped on an uncharted planet with no way off I would promise a great reward too. We could be walking into a trap or worse yet we could be walking into a trap with no credits.

The only thing Bevyn had valued more than credits and a good meal was his life. This has made certain adventures on the Sabre of Layne difficult because it seemed like every time they jumped into hyperspace they nearly tore the ship apart. Due to this constant barrage of near death experiences, he has put his life down a peg in recent months. A good meal held priority over both his life and credits.

"It will be very hard to do my job seeing as how we don't know the ecology of the planet. If you come in with Bonadan Cough it wont be a problem but if you come in with some strange new swamp eel living inside your brain... It's just..." Bevyn sighed in defeat. "Find the guy, bring him back. I'll be about as ready as I can be. But if he brings some sort of awful... swamp plague I am jettisoning everyone exposed into hyperspace."

Bevyn let out a small laugh, signifying that it was indeed a joke. Sarcasm and Bith are two creatures that do not get along.

While he didn't want to admit it the point that the doctor brought up was still festering in the back of his mind. They really needed the credits that this person was promising, although it could just be a wild bantha chase. If the latter was the case... well he didn't want to think about that.

Well Doctor once again I appreciate your concern. Although, we are already here, and frankly we wont find out whether this is just a poor castaway, or a castaway with credits until we actually go down to the surface.

He looked at the Bith sternly at his next statement. He still had not gotten accustomed to someone questioning his orders. While he never did graduate from the CorSec academy he had gotten used to its sudo military atmosphere. There, if someone of a higher rank than you told you to do something, you did it without question. In the end though, he did actually like that quality about the Bith, he didn't seem afraid to say what was on his mind.

Now look Doctor, I don't care how hard it would be to do your job, I just expect that it gets done. And I hope that laugh was a sign that you were joking? Last time I checked this was my ship, and you were its doctor. If its alright with you, we'll just leave the orders to me.

Quintion continued staring at the doctor for a few moments after he stopped talking before breaking out into laughter and responding in a lighter tone.

Look Doc, If everything goes right down there, there wont even be a job for you to do. Just make sure that your as ready as you can, just in case.

Pointing a finger at Bevyn. But really... no spacing...

Turning his attention to Myriana, he considered the plan that she proposed. While it would provide the most security to his ship he still didn't like the idea of sending any of the members of his crew out alone on this planet.

While your plan does have merit, I would consider it a plan B. Plan A would be to actually find a landing site for the ship. Plus, if the fog is bad enough that the ship cant land, who's to say we could even see your flair?

He laughed at Myriana's last statement.

You think of yourself too highly Ambassador. Id rather not have any of my crew go out there alone.

While walking to the helm.

I want both of you to go prepare for a rough landing. If we can find a landing site great. If not Myriana, you and John will go on foot to find the beacon.

Sitting down at the helm he watched as the small green orb in front of him started getting larger and larger until it was the only thing that could be seen looking out of the viewport. He activated the ships intercom just before the ship entered the planets atmosphere.

I hope everyone is strapped in, there might be some slight turbulence.

To be honest the ship had seen better days and every time it entered the atmosphere of a planet he just hoped that she would stay together. Sometimes out of habit he muttered what were supposedly the last things that an ancient spacer said just before a launch of an ancient chemical rocket.

By the force, please don't let me fuck up.  He muttered as he started to bring the ship down into the atmosphere of Degobah.

Pain. 

White light, nausea, and searing pain shot thru the Miralukan pilot as his Spiteful fighter was hauled unceremoniously out of hyperspace. It was one thing to plot a route, enter complex coordinates and have a navacomp follow them to the letter. It was quite another thing to have your fleet's command centre redirect you on a whim or drop you out of hyperspace with no notice -- only a shot to the sternum as a wake-up. 

Cal glanced at his instruments. A little over ten gee on that re-entry. He wiped the blood away from under his nose, knowing full-well he'd also likely be bleeding a little from the ears. Nausea swam over him like a cold embrace, and he angrily punched his flashing comm signal. An image of an M-3P0 droid swam into focus atop the small holoprojector on the right corner of the console. 

What in the three fiery suns do you think you're doing, MJ-45? You damn near killed me dropping me out of hyperspace like that!

Distress beacon, sir. Coordinates arriving shortly. Top priority, I'm afraid. 

The droid's tone was antagonizingly monotone, unapologetic. 

Distress Beacon?? Really? That's the best you've got? That's more important than a rendezvous with the rest of the squad over Mon Cal?? You KNOW it's going to take me the better part of three days to recover fully from this aborted hop, you 300-pound bag of rusty by-the-book shit!

His head throbbed, and he pulled off a glove to massage his temple as the Mil-spec protocol droid went on blathering about regulations. Cal did the merciful thing and cut him off mid-sentence. 

Well... where the hell am I, anyways? A few jabs at the function keys on the long-range scanner and he had his answer. Dagobah. Great. Hope I packed my rubber boots. Ready for this, R6? The small droid was still running diagnostics, which scrolled by on the HUD. All systems seemed to be in the green, and the astromech tweeted an affirmative that he was ready for anything. Cal switched over to manual control, and disengaged from the hyperdrive ring. Hauling back on the stick, he toggled weapons live, and brought the coordinates up on-screen as they began their descent. 

Hang on 'Eyes,' this could be a little rough.