The small ship skims the atmosphere, explosive gases and flames venting from a damaged port on the disabled vessel's hull.

Crank, an unblooded yautja youth, hastily works his clawed hands over the controls.  He attempts to get the plummeting transport ship out of its deathfall.  Realizing it is a futile effort, he makes the decision to scuttle and abandon the ship.  There is every chance that the oomans have already picked up his descent on their radar.  The ship's cloak failed almost the instant it entered the water-logged planet's atmosphere.  The damage from the rogue hunter's weapons had been far too extensive than he'd been able to fix.  

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It would only be a matter of time before both the oomans and the rogue hunters were crawling all over the crash site.  Grabbing his mask, and pressing a final sequence on the ship's console, Crank strolls down the corridor in the direction of the escape pods.

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Crank watches the remnants of his ship streak across the night sky with the equivalent of a yautja smile.  At least, he'd done something right.  Climbing down from his perch on a large tree, Crank leaves his personal cloak activated and heads for the lights of the city.