All stations, all stations, all stations. This is Gold Three of Gold Squadron, New Republic fleet. Unsure of position, lost power two and a half parsecs out of Chandrila, drifted for approximately six hours. Hit atmo at a bad angle, rode it down hard. Y-Wing now pile of smoking scrap. Requesting evac from unknown planet and salvage crew. No injuries. Supplies enough to last a standard week. No sign of locals but this sector of the world is inhabited. Currently piggy-backing off local network, unsure if this signal is strong enough to break atmo. Will repeat message in forty-eight standard hours. Over.