The scent of grease and rusted metal filled his nostrils. Closed eyes ignoring his surroundings, that of corroded durasteel, exposed wiring on the walls and the veritable shaking of the freighter after it took punishment from flying, let alone making a jump to hyperspace. The crew itself was nothing but low-class thugs. Humans, Rodians and Selonians that were too young or too stupid to know what was good for them. Lazy as well, as none bothered to revise the manifest of spice and other illegal goods one more time before taking off, making sure that there were no stowaways in their aged freighter.
If it was due laziness or sheer incompetence, it didn't matter. In fact he could say that it made his work easier. These were criminals, but petty at best, and fighting them would do little to topple the crime empire of Caram the Hutt. However in their ignorance they were extremely useful. Something he hoped it would continue. With a final shake of the ship's keel, followed by a metallic screech, the vibrations on the floor slowly ceased, indicating that they were close to their destination.
As the hull, as broken and patched as the insides of the ship kissed the atmosphere and became ablaze, Fal would open his eyes. His hand softly pushing the lid of the cargo container, a soft screech coming from the hinges. His eyes darted to a side to other, as a human and a rodian skirted pass the bulk of duraplast and durasteel containers and crates, arguing about a panel that had become loose and had catched fire. With the coast clear, the Jedi Master leaped from his hidden spot. Crouching and sticking to shadows despite his massive frame.
As the klaxon chorus of alarms blasted, his sighed. If this ship managed to touchdown in a relative intact fashion, it would be a providence, miracles were beyond this point. However he never intended to land with the ship. Making his way to one of the loading areas of the freighter, a variety of goods were stored. Aurodium statues, coffers, crates and more over repulsorlift beds. Moving as swiftly and quietly as he could, the Zabrak found the control panel of the ramps.
The panel chimed in response of the commands he selected. The altitude was good just enough to survive such fall. With a final push to the console, another set of alarms flared to life. The Jedi punched the screen, sparks emerged from the broken display and the wiring attached to the controls as the deafening pitch of decompression took hold of the loading bay.
The ramp slowly lowered, as its hydraulic hinges protested the unusual strain, until one gave away, violently releasing the ramp to an unnatural degree. The repulsorlift beds began to float, unlocked in position, as the draft influenced them falling along with debris from the ship unto the eternal swamp below. The ship lowered even further as it went into something between an emergency landing and final approach.
Knowing that it was the moment. Fal leaped into one of the beds, slowly drifting out of the ship and into the abyss. The wind flared against his ears as gravity took its hold. His powerful hands holding to the railings as the makeshift lifeboat plummeted below, while a piece of thruster from the freighter came loose in flames. The swamp came closer, but as well the palace of Caram, a fortress among the swamp.
Punching into the command display of the repulsorlift bed, the machine became strained, momentarily decelerating, only to continue its now controlled fall against one of the outer walls of the complex. Taking a deep breath, the Jedi Master jumped forward, the machine falling against the greasy swamp, as he flew towards one of the disposal sewers that fed toxic liquids into the deadly swamp.