"I'm sure you still have much more experience than I do," Ibani replies.
The ship answers readily to his commands, no bizarre controls or peculiar systems here! (Any Sith Empire Engineer trying to pass off something like the TIE fighter, notoriously hard on its pilots, would have been executed for their incompetence.)
The hyperspace trip is calm, thankfully. "Shielding at the speed we'll be traveling at will be no small feat. Going to be like doing very advanced calculus in my head." She sends a feeling of warmth and amusement to him, since her helmet hides her grin. "So don't panic if I don't respond right away, unless I'm not breathing."
Ibani builds the Force cloak slowly as they approach their exit from hyperspace. It is a complicated tangle of energies, suppressing sensory information, distorting it, making what IS vanish into what ought to be.
When they emerge from hyperspace, the Foundry hangs in space like a moon, a moon armed with hundreds of enormous guns. Bits of debris and the odd chunk of rock show up on the starfighter's sensors. One piece, a chunk of debris larger than their starfighter, crosses paths with a sensor station and several guns swivel to target it. Ions glow around their barrels and streak out toward the piece of debris, turning it to vapor.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2020-07-29 11:16 pm (UTC)The ship answers readily to his commands, no bizarre controls or peculiar systems here! (Any Sith Empire Engineer trying to pass off something like the TIE fighter, notoriously hard on its pilots, would have been executed for their incompetence.)
The hyperspace trip is calm, thankfully. "Shielding at the speed we'll be traveling at will be no small feat. Going to be like doing very advanced calculus in my head." She sends a feeling of warmth and amusement to him, since her helmet hides her grin. "So don't panic if I don't respond right away, unless I'm not breathing."
Ibani builds the Force cloak slowly as they approach their exit from hyperspace. It is a complicated tangle of energies, suppressing sensory information, distorting it, making what IS vanish into what ought to be.
When they emerge from hyperspace, the Foundry hangs in space like a moon, a moon armed with hundreds of enormous guns. Bits of debris and the odd chunk of rock show up on the starfighter's sensors. One piece, a chunk of debris larger than their starfighter, crosses paths with a sensor station and several guns swivel to target it. Ions glow around their barrels and streak out toward the piece of debris, turning it to vapor.