"Local frequencies lit up like Coruscant about twenty minutes ago," Poe says mildly. There's a half dozen ships in the immediate area, civilian vessels like their own for the most part, each of them making for the same jump point. Potential confusion for whoever might be watching, scrambling to make sense of ... whatever's happened. "Plenty of speculation, but nothing solid. Trying to protect my delicate sensibilities, Captain?"
The news of the Destroyer earns a quiet growl from Poe, a rising feeling of anger that comes with a side of surprise that he's still so capable of feeling betrayed by the fact. Just like Ro Kiintor years ago, it wasn't the New Republic on the other end of a distress call. (It shouldn't sting like it does.) He bares his teeth, adjusts their flight path with an almost lazy tilt of the yoke. The other craft ahead are starting to scatter as their sensors pick up on the massive cruiser and move to evade. The sky darkens as they rise, the horizon a smooth curve now -- fifteen seconds until they break free of atmosphere, maybe less. Poe's attention fixes for a moment on the dull grey wedge of the Destroyer, small yet. That'll change soon enough.
He attempts to run the calculations in his head, wishing once again that his astromech had accompanied them. Any answer is only a gross estimate at best, dependent on a lot of factors he doesn't have at his disposal yet. But any sort of edge could sharpen that at least a little -- "ID on that Destroyer?"
no subject
The news of the Destroyer earns a quiet growl from Poe, a rising feeling of anger that comes with a side of surprise that he's still so capable of feeling betrayed by the fact. Just like Ro Kiintor years ago, it wasn't the New Republic on the other end of a distress call. (It shouldn't sting like it does.) He bares his teeth, adjusts their flight path with an almost lazy tilt of the yoke. The other craft ahead are starting to scatter as their sensors pick up on the massive cruiser and move to evade. The sky darkens as they rise, the horizon a smooth curve now -- fifteen seconds until they break free of atmosphere, maybe less. Poe's attention fixes for a moment on the dull grey wedge of the Destroyer, small yet. That'll change soon enough.
He attempts to run the calculations in his head, wishing once again that his astromech had accompanied them. Any answer is only a gross estimate at best, dependent on a lot of factors he doesn't have at his disposal yet. But any sort of edge could sharpen that at least a little -- "ID on that Destroyer?"