For a while, I scanned the casino again. I almost expected someone to show up and vehemently refute my victory. In Ord Mantel, that would not be strange.
Shady casinos would take your money happily when you lost. But paying up when you won was another matter entirely.
Still, nobody even showed too much interest, except the people from the back table who had been scanning me with interest.
Most of them had looked away after seeing it was a chance wheel mini jackpot. Nothing interesting there. Except two guys.
One of them was human. The other was a species I was not sure I had seen before in Star Wars. Then again, I could hardly expect to know all the species in such a vast galaxy.
Seeing no one to stop me, I eagerly turned around, ready to leave.
That was when I noticed, almost subconsciously, that the two guys had already left.
Fuck. That was not good.
Maybe it was just a coincidence, but I was not willing to take that chance. Judging by the way they had looked at me, most probably they were waylaying me just outside.
I was not going to have that.
Something else occurred to me. Yes, I had solved my problem as far as the fares went, but where the fuck was I taking 250 credits? Most certainly, the syndicate would search me as soon as I arrived, and whatever balance remained would be confiscated. My victory would have been for nothing.
Not that I had an urgent need for the money, but there was no way I was giving it to some asshole who would be torturing me later.
That was when I almost again subconsciously recalled the sign I had seen just above the sabacc tables when I entered. My head turned automatically there.
Really, my first dream state practice was paying off. I was almost automatically recognizing things that did not matter in the slightest around my environment, even without trying.
True enough, the sign gleamed just above the noisy tables beneath it.
Countdown to sabacc grand tournament. Five days to go. Register now for a chance to win 20,000 credits and a seat in the next grand jackpot for the finalist.
Registration fee, 700 credits.
Fuck, that was too much. I felt something tumble at the bottom of my stomach.
But it was not something I had anticipated before now. Now I began to see another line of thought forming in my head.
Why not? I was going to lose the credits anyway.
I approached one of the payout desks for bigger wins further toward the opposite end of the casino.
An old lady whose face seemed so heavily pampered with makeup that she literally smelled like a pharmacy looked at me.
Her face looked more haggard and tired than pretty, which most probably was the result she had been attempting to avoid.
"Excuse me."
She looked up and, on seeing me, almost fell back into her withdrawn look once again.
"What now?" she said in a bored voice.
"I wanted to inquire about something regarding the upcoming sabacc tournament."
Now she looked up with interest.
"Seven hundred credits for the registration," she replied flatly.
"Yeah, about that," I said, stuttering. "I wanted to inquire whether somebody can pay partially. I mean, little by little, if you do not have the entire seven hundred right away."
"Sure. You can purchase your seat with a deposit of one hundred credits. Just as long as you clear the balance two days before the tournament. That means within three days from now."
I inwardly marveled at my victory. One hundred credits was the minimum deposit. But I had a whole two hundred because all I needed was fifty credits just to get to my stage.
I did not care whether it was a con game or anything. But really, seeing that there were already players here, it could hardly be a con game because that would be assuming a lot. How would they have known that I was coming, that I would win the mini jackpot, or that I would even be interested in an upcoming sabacc tournament?
That would be too much.
I picked out the credits from my pocket and poured them onto her desk.
I counted fifty and then pushed the rest toward her.
"That should be two hundred credits."
She took them and counted them one by one, as if suspecting some mischief on my end or that the credit chips were fake, which was funny since it was their own machine that had dished them out.
Once she was done, she pushed the credits into a separate compartment and then produced what looked like a datapad, except this one looked a little different.
"Place your palm on it."
I quickly placed my right palm on top of the datapad. It scanned my hand and then gave a satisfactory click before the image of my palm in green appeared on the screen.
"That should be good," she said, a little more animated. "So long as you clear the balance within three days, you will have a seat reserved at the tournament."
Yeah. About that.
I was not entirely sure whether I would even make it to that seat.
I had only jumped on a plan that had barely become a fetus, a line of fresh thoughts that I had not fully formed yet.
The instinct, however, felt good to me, and I saw no reason not to flow with it.
Now even if the two potential thugs who had gone to waylay me ahead attacked me, they would get nothing.
Still, I did not plan to be attacked.
With fifty credits, which were my transport, my plan was downright simple. The moment I stepped out of that door, I was running like the devil was in pursuit.
And that is exactly what I did.
I did not see them, though. It could have been my paranoia. But they could have also gone the wrong direction.
I took the direction that headed straight to the train station. The rush hour crowds had eased, but the fare was still pretty inflated.
I quickly scanned the board.
My stage, now that I knew it, Market District Sub Level Four Terminal, was thirty credits.
I paid at the kiosk and stepped inside the booth before allowing myself to breathe a sigh of relief.
Now I just had to go and collect my fucking speeder, then run back to the syndicate before they decided to blow me apart.
When the train pulled over a few moments later and I rushed out of the terminal toward the decapitated statue, I realized my night problem had only just begun.
Speeders lined the landing pad where I had parked. But after scanning the lot a couple of times, I confirmed my speeder was not among them.
For a moment I thought this was the wrong landing pad, until I saw the Wookiee who had charged me.
The guy was roaring in animated laughter with a mixed species group. Clearly he was purposely ignoring me.
His companions did not look that friendly either. They all looked at me like they were daring me to ask a question.
Still, I had no time to process the fear. My urgency had numbed me.
"Hey. Hey," I began as I approached them.
I had to yell to get their attention. The Wookiee slowly looked at me.
He growled, spreading his hands in a clear question.
"My speeder. I parked it there, you know," I said, pointing at the fully packed landing pad. "I cannot see it."
The Wookiee growled again and turned back to resume his conversation.
"He says your speeder is not here."
A human in the group interpreted dismissively.
"What?" I felt like my heart was about to tear its way out of my ribcage.
"Hey. Hey. I parked here, remember?" I said, reaching into my pocket and fetching the speeder keys. "Here, earlier this morning," I insisted, juggling the keys in front of him.
The Wookiee once again turned and casually gave a series of unintelligible sounds, at least as far as I was concerned.
I automatically turned to the human who had translated before.
But the man was no longer looking at me.
"Hey, excuse me. What did he say?"
The man looked at me like he did not give a damn. Which clearly he did.
"I am not your translator droid. Five credits for my service."
The fuck.
I was about to protest, but I decided not to. There was no point.
It was like I had seen earlier. Desperation equals opportunity.
I knew it was a bad idea, but I still reached for my remaining twenty credits and counted five before giving them to the man.
"He says you paid to park for six hours. It is past six hours. He is no longer responsible for your speeder, and he does not have it."
On God, I almost collapsed right there.
That was when I realized I had overlooked that bit in my excitement to explore the city.
Seeing that it was already late cycle and I had parked early in the mid cycle, it was beyond the six hours I had paid for.
But still, should he not just hold it until I came and added for the extra hours? As I recalled, it was one credit per hour. I still had fifteen credits. I could have topped up the extra.
"Where is the speeder? I will pay for the extra hours," I said, now beginning to panic. No speeder.
The Wookiee suddenly growled, now standing up. I suddenly realized just how much of a dwarf I was.
The rest of his friends were already grinning and laughing at the spiraling situation.
"Leave."
The word sounded distorted, but it came through.
Well, when a seven foot semi ape giant tells you to leave, you do not continue arguing. Plus I did not like how his mates were looking at me. Especially the translator.
It was like he wanted to find out how many more credits I had left.
This is fucking hell.
I slowly backed out from the landing station until I was back adjacent to the speeder lane.
What the fuck? What was wrong with this day?
Almost as if on cue, my death collar gave another vibration. This time it was followed by a wave of pain from shock.
This one lasted about five seconds and forced me to collapse onto my knees, almost suffocating from the effect of the electric shock.
I had just received my final warning.