Post by Ghostie on Jun 25, 2018 23:54:43 GMT -5
“Ready, Gaar?”
Pash looked to his co-pilot, the Wookiee’s multiple shades of brown fur and bright eyes would’ve been indistinguishable in the darkened cockpit had the electric blue energy of hyperspace not illuminated the entire cabin. Everything was bathed in the blue light, with the occasional yellow or red light blinking across the controls breaking through the monotony. It wasn’t that the Smuggler and his First Mate flew without lights to guide their hands, and purposely kept their controls dark. Rather, the eerie appearance of energy from flying at lightspeed was able to seemingly subtract their artificial light, and gift them back it’s own. Pash had once heard an old tale about how hyperspace was supposed to be its own realm of sorts, that getting blown out of an airlock while a ship was flying that fast was supposedly worse than getting blown out of an airlock while in subspace.
The Smuggler wasn’t keen on testing that theory.
With an affirmative growl from his First Mate and a pull of a few levers, The Our Lady of Onderon gave a slight lurch and left hyperspace. The blue vortex quickly faded away, and in its wake was left a marble of a clay like color, occasionally broken up by bits of murky blue. It was a mudball. A literally mudball. Pash had been to Jabiim a few times before, as it was a well-placed stop before Sith Space. It had all the typical peculiarities of any backwater planet, and was usually left alone by most galactic governments. That made it perfect for people like him. But after each and every visit, he always felt as if he had to hop in the refresher before anything else. He hated getting The Lady dirty, and Jabiim was the filthiest planet Pash knew. Taking care of a few post-hyperspace issues, Pash turned in his seat and reached above his head for a few buttons and levers.
“Think you can land us at Cobalt Station while I check on our passenger?”
It was a rhetorical question, to be sure. Gaarchiir was more than a decent pilot. Almost as good as Pash, himself. Of course, everyone was almost as good as Pash was, when it came to flying. The Onderonian wasn’t shy about throwing that fact around. Nonetheless the only hands, or rather huge, hairy paws that Pash trusted his ship in was the Wookiee’s. After all, The Lady was the man’s pride and joy, and the thing he loved most in the entire Galaxy. When Gaarchiir growled again, Pash stood from the pilot’s chair and spun around, his long blue duster whipping gently across the ship’s controls. The thick sliding door to the cockpit had been left open and trailed on out towards a hallway, well lit in a yellow, warm light and circular in presentation.
As Pash walked down the hallway and across the ship, he could feel the deck give way under his feet, bowing with each and every light step. Well, in all reality he actually couldn’t feel the floor moving under his boots. But Pash thought he could. Imagined he could. That was the key with every good smuggling compartment; hiding in plain sight, and yet not being found. And The Our Lady of Onderon was littered in such hideaways. The most prominent, of course, being the ones cut into the deck boards below everyone’s feet. Those could hold quite a bit, and went on from the cockpit and all across the light freighter. In fact, they were currently in use. The Onderonian found it quite ironic that he was transporting medical goods without authorization, all while ferrying a Doctor to the Outer Rim.
After his last chartered flight, Pash had been more than a little hesitant to take on another. His adventure with Aiden had been something else entirely, and the Smuggler had no wish to make a repeat of the event. No matter how many credits the pair of them had be rewarded for that rescue, no reward was worth fighting of a cruiser full of pirates. Still, Pash had wished that the Kid had taken him up on the offer to join The Lady. He had grown rather fond of Aiden by the end of things, and he was more than capable. Plus between a Wookiee and an Ex-Jedi, Pash could sit back and let them do all the work. He smiled a bit at that thought.
Doctor Bellamy, the Onderonian figured, wouldn’t give him the same sort of adventure. And that was perfectly fine in Pash’s book. She seemed rather reserved, and had kept to herself most of the flight. From what Pash had seen of her, she was petite and rather cute, with her short, dark hair and green eyes. The Smuggler might’ve strayed far from charter flights, lately, but most passengers weren’t good looking doctors looking to get away from Republic Space. Pash could make an exception in those cases.
“‘Ey Doc?! Just thought I’d let you know we’re a few minutes from landing.”
Pash’s words rang out just after a few of his olive knuckles finished rapping against the closed blast door to the starboard dormitories. Normally, The Lady wouldn’t have been closed off like this, but when Pash took passengers, he did what he could to make them as comfortable as possible. Waiting for a response for a few moments, the Smuggler leaned against the round bulkhead, watching the door and listening.
Pash looked to his co-pilot, the Wookiee’s multiple shades of brown fur and bright eyes would’ve been indistinguishable in the darkened cockpit had the electric blue energy of hyperspace not illuminated the entire cabin. Everything was bathed in the blue light, with the occasional yellow or red light blinking across the controls breaking through the monotony. It wasn’t that the Smuggler and his First Mate flew without lights to guide their hands, and purposely kept their controls dark. Rather, the eerie appearance of energy from flying at lightspeed was able to seemingly subtract their artificial light, and gift them back it’s own. Pash had once heard an old tale about how hyperspace was supposed to be its own realm of sorts, that getting blown out of an airlock while a ship was flying that fast was supposedly worse than getting blown out of an airlock while in subspace.
The Smuggler wasn’t keen on testing that theory.
With an affirmative growl from his First Mate and a pull of a few levers, The Our Lady of Onderon gave a slight lurch and left hyperspace. The blue vortex quickly faded away, and in its wake was left a marble of a clay like color, occasionally broken up by bits of murky blue. It was a mudball. A literally mudball. Pash had been to Jabiim a few times before, as it was a well-placed stop before Sith Space. It had all the typical peculiarities of any backwater planet, and was usually left alone by most galactic governments. That made it perfect for people like him. But after each and every visit, he always felt as if he had to hop in the refresher before anything else. He hated getting The Lady dirty, and Jabiim was the filthiest planet Pash knew. Taking care of a few post-hyperspace issues, Pash turned in his seat and reached above his head for a few buttons and levers.
“Think you can land us at Cobalt Station while I check on our passenger?”
It was a rhetorical question, to be sure. Gaarchiir was more than a decent pilot. Almost as good as Pash, himself. Of course, everyone was almost as good as Pash was, when it came to flying. The Onderonian wasn’t shy about throwing that fact around. Nonetheless the only hands, or rather huge, hairy paws that Pash trusted his ship in was the Wookiee’s. After all, The Lady was the man’s pride and joy, and the thing he loved most in the entire Galaxy. When Gaarchiir growled again, Pash stood from the pilot’s chair and spun around, his long blue duster whipping gently across the ship’s controls. The thick sliding door to the cockpit had been left open and trailed on out towards a hallway, well lit in a yellow, warm light and circular in presentation.
As Pash walked down the hallway and across the ship, he could feel the deck give way under his feet, bowing with each and every light step. Well, in all reality he actually couldn’t feel the floor moving under his boots. But Pash thought he could. Imagined he could. That was the key with every good smuggling compartment; hiding in plain sight, and yet not being found. And The Our Lady of Onderon was littered in such hideaways. The most prominent, of course, being the ones cut into the deck boards below everyone’s feet. Those could hold quite a bit, and went on from the cockpit and all across the light freighter. In fact, they were currently in use. The Onderonian found it quite ironic that he was transporting medical goods without authorization, all while ferrying a Doctor to the Outer Rim.
After his last chartered flight, Pash had been more than a little hesitant to take on another. His adventure with Aiden had been something else entirely, and the Smuggler had no wish to make a repeat of the event. No matter how many credits the pair of them had be rewarded for that rescue, no reward was worth fighting of a cruiser full of pirates. Still, Pash had wished that the Kid had taken him up on the offer to join The Lady. He had grown rather fond of Aiden by the end of things, and he was more than capable. Plus between a Wookiee and an Ex-Jedi, Pash could sit back and let them do all the work. He smiled a bit at that thought.
Doctor Bellamy, the Onderonian figured, wouldn’t give him the same sort of adventure. And that was perfectly fine in Pash’s book. She seemed rather reserved, and had kept to herself most of the flight. From what Pash had seen of her, she was petite and rather cute, with her short, dark hair and green eyes. The Smuggler might’ve strayed far from charter flights, lately, but most passengers weren’t good looking doctors looking to get away from Republic Space. Pash could make an exception in those cases.
“‘Ey Doc?! Just thought I’d let you know we’re a few minutes from landing.”
Pash’s words rang out just after a few of his olive knuckles finished rapping against the closed blast door to the starboard dormitories. Normally, The Lady wouldn’t have been closed off like this, but when Pash took passengers, he did what he could to make them as comfortable as possible. Waiting for a response for a few moments, the Smuggler leaned against the round bulkhead, watching the door and listening.
