The Games Fixed
Objective 3, Escape
While the barfight and potential arrests were resolved, Aalto continued his way out into the hangar at a brisk pace, being bumped around by people making a hasty exit. Nothing like judges showing up to motivate a fast withdrawal!
“HOLD IT.” Was amusingly mimicked again. Aalto turned slowly around not saying a word.
There was a tense second or so wondering if he’d been made...
“Dropped this.” A small snake leather wallet was thrust under his blue chin, his credchit wallet. Dropped meant someone had tried to steal it when he was bumped around or it had been shaken loose, probably the former knowing this station. Paying off the right people was paying dividends, they were watching his back.
The Duros blinked his large eyes, cautiously taking the wallet and checking it for tracking devices, his ample chin getting right up close to the material. Pulling out a credchit he handed one to the dockworker, a moment of honesty inside a den of thieves was rewarded in kind.
Besides which, as he popped his cockpit and strapped himself into the pilot's chair, his cargo was going to fetch a decent price on the exchange markets. This was one broker who could afford to spend credits for some goodwill. The judges weren’t going to be here forever and the Exchange operated best when all the competition had been cleared! It might have even been Aalto that tipped them off to the Hutts and Pykes aboard, who knows.
His engines hit full burn and the corvette levelled up for takeoff. The game's always rigged.
While the barfight and potential arrests were resolved, Aalto continued his way out into the hangar at a brisk pace, being bumped around by people making a hasty exit. Nothing like judges showing up to motivate a fast withdrawal!
“HOLD IT.” Was amusingly mimicked again. Aalto turned slowly around not saying a word.
There was a tense second or so wondering if he’d been made...
“Dropped this.” A small snake leather wallet was thrust under his blue chin, his credchit wallet. Dropped meant someone had tried to steal it when he was bumped around or it had been shaken loose, probably the former knowing this station. Paying off the right people was paying dividends, they were watching his back.
The Duros blinked his large eyes, cautiously taking the wallet and checking it for tracking devices, his ample chin getting right up close to the material. Pulling out a credchit he handed one to the dockworker, a moment of honesty inside a den of thieves was rewarded in kind.
Besides which, as he popped his cockpit and strapped himself into the pilot's chair, his cargo was going to fetch a decent price on the exchange markets. This was one broker who could afford to spend credits for some goodwill. The judges weren’t going to be here forever and the Exchange operated best when all the competition had been cleared! It might have even been Aalto that tipped them off to the Hutts and Pykes aboard, who knows.
His engines hit full burn and the corvette levelled up for takeoff. The game's always rigged.
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