The glimmering stars go out, blotted out by the hulking, black mass of an Imperial ship clearly built for war. Its hull seems to absorb whatever light comes near it, and the engines glow a deep crimson as it descends, finally coming to a hover a good mile or so above the surface.
It is a smaller ship, a simple Bug Fighter, that detaches from the Blade Ship, finishing the trek down to the makeshift parking lot that houses so many lost and broken ships from previous visitors. It settles into the grass and gravel comfortably, landing struts giving the ship an even more Bug-like impression than when it is in flight.
The hatch opens, allowing the single pilot passage to the ground. He is not dressed in an Imperial uniform, despite the obviously Imperial origins of his ships. Instead, he is wearing a dark suit, contrasted by a flamboyantly bright purple tie. His dark hair is gelled neatly, and he smells distinctly of Italian perfume. The only indications Yeerkish influence are in the small insignia on his lapel -- a Visser's insignia -- and the holster that he has strapped around his waist, bearing a Dracon weapon and several small compartments.
There is a jaunty strut to his step as he makes his way to the bar, careful not to scuff his designer shoes on any of the rocks. Pausing at the entrance, he straightens his cuffs, then throws open the door, stepping in with a flourish and a ****y smile.