Poe's bark of laughter is sharp and sudden -- incredulous at first (they need to fly, they need to fight and then they need to go), but after a moment's thought, he realizes it's got some merit. Buying time, and a hell of a lot more of it than a few dangerous passes through the debris field will give anyone.
"All right," Poe says, glancing at Andor, a little taken aback by the sudden surge of life in his eyes. The sensor board is mostly useless at this point, but the amount of fire has reduced dramatically in the last few moments, and that means plenty -- likely they're mulling over directions, receiving orders from that Star Destroyer on whether to pursue or fan out to wait. "All right." Either way, if they want to do this, there's not much time, and so rather than think too hard about the potential for screwing this up catastrophically, he tries to gauge the speed and angle of the asteroid's rotation, and slips beneath the oversized chunk of rock, switching to retrothrusters in a maneuver that leaves the inertial compensator struggling to keep pace.
He feels terribly vulnerable like this ,but forces himself not to think about that, either, to instead activate the ship's small tractor beam to pull the ship in as he feathers thrust and retrothrust to keep pace with its rotation. He doesn't dare use the spotlight, and the effort feels a little bit like groping in the dark.
It's not a completely elegant landing. The length of the ship means he has to turn it sideways to fit the shape of that narrow crater; as a result, only half of the viewport affords a view of the stars in front of them. One of the landing struts crunches and squeals against an outcrop It's not perfect, not by a long shot, but they're shadowed by a jagged overhang, nestled up tight against the belly of their asteroid. Ready and capable of bolting, if need be.
Poe realizes he's holding his breath as the ship's hum abruptly cuts to silence, as the lights from the consoles bade to darkness. He releases it in a shuddering sigh, then glances to Andor, vaguely curious -- but there's a little bit of pleasure there, too. "Don't suppose you brought any cards along, huh?"
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"All right," Poe says, glancing at Andor, a little taken aback by the sudden surge of life in his eyes. The sensor board is mostly useless at this point, but the amount of fire has reduced dramatically in the last few moments, and that means plenty -- likely they're mulling over directions, receiving orders from that Star Destroyer on whether to pursue or fan out to wait. "All right." Either way, if they want to do this, there's not much time, and so rather than think too hard about the potential for screwing this up catastrophically, he tries to gauge the speed and angle of the asteroid's rotation, and slips beneath the oversized chunk of rock, switching to retrothrusters in a maneuver that leaves the inertial compensator struggling to keep pace.
He feels terribly vulnerable like this ,but forces himself not to think about that, either, to instead activate the ship's small tractor beam to pull the ship in as he feathers thrust and retrothrust to keep pace with its rotation. He doesn't dare use the spotlight, and the effort feels a little bit like groping in the dark.
It's not a completely elegant landing. The length of the ship means he has to turn it sideways to fit the shape of that narrow crater; as a result, only half of the viewport affords a view of the stars in front of them. One of the landing struts crunches and squeals against an outcrop It's not perfect, not by a long shot, but they're shadowed by a jagged overhang, nestled up tight against the belly of their asteroid. Ready and capable of bolting, if need be.
Poe realizes he's holding his breath as the ship's hum abruptly cuts to silence, as the lights from the consoles bade to darkness. He releases it in a shuddering sigh, then glances to Andor, vaguely curious -- but there's a little bit of pleasure there, too. "Don't suppose you brought any cards along, huh?"