Harland Gates
RETIRED
[media]https://soundcloud.com/risingphoenix23-1/its-my-turn-to-fly-the-urge[/media]
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Rishi Maze
Manda Merchant Route
Not to be confused with the Manda; the warrior afterlife of the Mandalorian religious system - the actual planet having the same name had, from it's own population, birthed out a merchant route that had been in operation for millennia facilitating trade routes through the hyperlane. It was a well established and often used navigational throughway from the Mid-Rim to the Outer operating within the boundaries of a celestial anomaly that had at one time been a major focal point about fifty years before the Battle of Yavin. A dwarven galaxy slowly decaying and spreading out while in constant orbital rotation within the confines of the current proper Galaxy. Its own inner workings had granted it the name of the Rishi Maze, and that title was apt. Navigating through that cloud of debris allowed some of the best kept secrets to reside out of sight, save for the few brave souls who'd trek through such a dangerous and unpredictable location. Housed within the maze were a number of clandestine dealings including an energy mining operation that was just shy of being caught into the depths of a nearby black hole. Firebase Alpha had on contract several of the more daring, laser-brained, and daft pilots in the verse running jobs for them to keep their enterprise running efficiently. Among them, a renegade from the Jedi Order turned transporter for hire; Harland Gates.
Four years had come and gone for the spacer barely aging the Nyriaanan more than a couple lines added to his ruggedly handsome visage. Four years since he had returned to find his best friend in the Galaxy to make sure she was alright. It'd been another five years since they had seen each other at the time and the reunion had gone about as smooth as a Rancor's backside. Kiskla Grayson at the time was the reigning Grand Master of the Jedi Order - a title which honestly shouldn't have surprised Hal; but a lot had changed between them and for themselves. Picking back up where they left off was never going to happen, and yet despite their massive differences and viewpoints on particulars, they somehow managed to find that familiar space again. Somehow the spacer had even managed to survive a trip to Dagobah with Grayson, confronting a literal embodiment of the dark side. Fething lucky is what he was walking into that mess and being able to walk out. Times had changed, and the Galaxy had shifted once again, in a constant ebb and flow that had turned the tides of war and peace respectively. Gates had no loyalty to a side anymore, other than his ownself; his true guiding star. Kiskla would always be his best friend, and likely the only person in the verse who'd give a kark about him no matter how far their diverging paths took them. Hal hadn't come back to join back into the ranks, but he did stay and lend some support where he could. Eventually he got sick of the protocols, and the problems that were literally none of his business. He had no stake in the game anymore, and setting sail back into the black was all he wanted to do. This time however Hal had managed to keep in contact, sending transmissions back and forth with the blonde, so that whenever they'd get together again the reunion might be a bit less turbulent. Getting back to the don't ask, don't tell policies he kept for transportation and other odd jobs, Gates fell into that familiar scoundrel routine. He did jobs, got paid, and generally found himself in worlds of trouble on a regular basis. That's what made him special though. While he had certainly made more enemies than friends - there was something to be said for his reputation about getting the job done. It was never pretty, always a haphazard mess when he was done, but he did deliver. Harland Gates gets the job done - that was the word of mouth that spread from one end of the Galaxy to the other, and he enjoyed that reputation. Firebrand Alpha also found it desirable, and thus the job that had commissioned him for was taking the brigand pilot down the Manda Merchant Route and into the heart of the Rishi maze.
Swirling teal and aquamarine clouds encompassed the Wild Goose as the hyperlane trade route bent space and time around the vessel to thrust it between two points in a mere fraction of the time required to traverse such large distances. The cockpit remained void of the pilot, set with the nav point making steering a useless endeavor at this point. Standing in the cargo bay of the modified HWK-290, Hal checked the isotope readings on his secured package, ensuring that the cooling system housed inside the crate was operating on point. Whatever he was carrying was dangerous enough to warrant the extra bells and whistles, which only meant that the payout was that much more substantial. Though the thought of having a ticking timebomb in his ship was a little disconcerting, but not the worst thing he'd transported either; not by a long shot. A moderate klaxon sounded from the cockpit, alerting Gates to arrival status. He subsequently dropped the datapad back into the slot of his payload and slid the Merr-Son blaster into his hip holster.
"Hey hey, Goose is playing my song. Time to get paid." The spacer commented aloud turning on his heels and strutting to the cockpit. Hal slid into the comfortable captain's chair lined with a Grov pelt for added comfort on long trips. "Looks like I might actually make port early, first time for everything." Gates knuckled a few switches into their opposing positions before he grabbed the yoke as the cloud of hyperspace ripped away to bring the Wild Goose into the open black abyss of space. In the distance a mesmerizing aura of light blue gases hovered in the thick void. Pin pricks of light dotted the horizon as Gates steered the craft into the direction of the maze itself. "Now let's see what the maze has in store for us today, shall we?" The spacer addressed no one but the non-sentient craft he piloted and had clearly bonded with over the years. Suddenly a dark shadow swept over the transparisteel, plunging the Goose into abject darkness. "The feth is....?" He didn't even time to finish the question as the entire ship rocked to it's right side, jostled by some kind of heavy impact. Proximity alarms blared from the control panel as Gates tugged on the yoke to steady himself to try and make sense of the commotion.
[member="Loske Matson"]