Django rotates the ship slightly headed for the circular hole just a few meters away from where the ship has lain for a thousand years beneath the ruins.  He oversteers just a little, but Tump is there to compensate and together they maneuver the ship to the center of the 6 kilometer shaft.  With nervous hands, the two of them orient the ship to point its fore straight up the shaft, balancing on its rear end just two meters above the ground on repulsors.

Almost holding his breath, Tump manages to eek out "I have a bad feeling about this."

He exhales and looks over to Django. "You know, traveling through hyperspace ain’t like playing cops and robbers, marshall."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:00, Wed 03 May 2017.

Django looks over at Tump. "Ain't gone be like nothin' we ever done. Systems check. Thrusters are armed. Shields at fifty percent. Alluvial damper spooled an' ready to sing. Hows yer end?".

"All systems green." He looks over to the R2 unit. "Aice, you sure we're clear to make it into hyperspace?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:12, Wed 03 May 2017.

The droid's head swivels towards Tump and in a strangely effeminate voice says, "The chances of navigating through outdated star charts are approximately 3720 to 1."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:00, Wed 03 May 2017.

"Never tell me the odds, droid" says Django and he engages the thrusters and is held firm in his seat.

The Millennium Falcon accelerates like a bullet from a gun crossing the 6 kilometers to the surface in a couple of seconds.  On the monitor, the A-wing follows.  It is a glorious feeling to burst from the ground like some sort of rebirth from the planet.

Django has to tense his stomach muscles to fight against the g-forces pushing against him, in an effort to remain conscious. He grips the yoke tightly and levels out the Falcon a bit, so as to not to be at a complete ninety degree angle. "Hold on t' yer butts" he taunts as he jerks the yoke to the side and causes the Falcon to rotate and roll twice as it cuts through the skies of Core. Satisfied for now, he pulls the yoke back to raise the angle of attack skyward again, gaining hundreds of feet of elevation by the second.

The sudden jolt pins Tump's head to the back of the co-pilot's chair. Eyes forward, he focuses on keeping the ship centered while it exits.

The exhilaration of the ascension into the heavens is suddenly interrupted by a dazzling green blast of energy that just misses the ship.  Up ahead, a veritable storm of the green bolts is flashing toward the ship.

The Rain of Light.

Fortunately, the bolts don't seem to be very accurate.  They stream around the Falcon, some coming close, but not actually ever hitting.  Inarra's A-wing, in the Falcon's 'shadow' is also okay.

At the communication station, Irin gasps.  Her hand goes over her wide open mouth and tears well in her eyes.  "Dad..."

Tump whips his head around to see where the bolts of light hit and see what's happing on Corellia's surface.