The skies of Coruscant blaze with war.
The artificial daylight spread by the capital's orbital mirrors is
sliced by intersecting tlames of ion drives and punctuated by star-
burst explosions; contrails of debris raining into the atmosphcre
become tanglcd ribbons of cloud. The nightside sky is an infinite
lattice of shining hairlines that interlock planetoids and track er-
ratic spirals of glowing gnats. Beings watching from rooftops of
Coruscant's cndless cityscape can find it beautiful,
From the inside, it's different.
The gnats are drive-glows of starfighters. The shining hair
lines are light-scatter from turbolaser bolts powerful enough to
vaporize a small town. The planctoids are capital ships.
The battle from the inside is a storm of confusion and panic,
of galvened particle beams flashing past your starhghter so closc
that your cockpit rings like a broken annunciator, of the boot
Sole shock of concussion missiles that blast into your cruiser,
Killing beings you have trained with and caten with and played
and laughed and bickered with. From the inside, the battle 15
csperation and terror and the stomach-churning certainty that
ne whole galaxy is trying to kill you.