ATTACK ON URMAS!
The fleet jumped out of hyperspace, opening fire almost immediately upon a cadre of Separatist ships. The fighters soared out of their cruisers, and a massive space assault began.
Already you and the other members of the team had crammed yourselves into the tiny pod crammed into a block of materials waiting to be ejected. The space was tight, perhaps a little too tight for comfort, and between the hefty safety harnesses, the packs of gear, and the hot breaths of your counterparts you looked forward to getting out and into even this hopeless battle.
There was a hard bang against the pod as enemy fire rocked the ship, then a sense of getting lighter as the pod got farther away from the artificial gravity of the ship. Rumbles as the bulk of the ship fell away faded, and the momentary fear that the cast-off material would crush you was replaced by a growing lurch in your stomach as the gravity of the planet pulled you into freefall.
Your last meal fluttered in your stomach at the freefall. It was a good meal, excellent in fact, and enough to stuff a Toidarian. That alone gave you an idea of just how likely command chalked up your chance of success. More than a clone squad, perhaps, or maybe it was just how they treated non-clones about to die: feed them that one last meal.
Through the windows you could see starfighters dog-fighting and dying, cruisers exchanging heavy batteries of cannon fire, and the two greatest armies every assembled gorging themselves on war. For a moment an enemy star fighter seemed to notice you, and fly towards you with what seemed an attempt to destroy the pod. It was a strangely designed ship, spidery-shaped with long extended turrets. Then debris from another cruiser, and an exploding star fighter, collided, knocking it away from the pod and out of sight.
The trip through the atmosphere was rocky, but less so than the sudden stop. The pod's safety kicked in late, just close enough to the surface that the team wouldn't die. Otherwise risk the city's sensors picking up the smooth landing and realize something's up.
EMERGING FROM THE POD
The surface of the planet itself is green. From where you landed, on the edge of lush greenery, you can see the blue dome of the ray-shield over the capital rising above rolling hills of farmland. The fields are patchworks of hedge-surrounded crops, until now producing enough food to feed a sector. Now great plumes of smoke at different points across the horizon show the contempt the General in charge of the operation felt for the humans who settled here. If rumours are true, this monster will devastate the land before leaving, salting the earth for ten generations' time.
The party pulls itself out of the pod.
What do you do now?
