Personal Journal – Day 6810 of Exile
The Grand Prix was upon us. We rushed to get our racer entered, then I took a position in the grandstand so I could watch the race. There were many teams competing, but only a few seemed to be a serious threat to our chances. One local kid seemed to be a favorite, Rocket, Rayger, Razer? I think it was Razer. Looking at the odds sheets, I realized I should’ve placed some bets. Anyone betting on us was going to be pretty rich when we won.
Naturally, this backwater planet, as cosmopolitan as it wants to be, is incapable of keeping the track clear. The racers not only had to contend with competitors shooting at them, but big, stupid jellyfish and their winged predators, too. Xena and Herrick did a good job of avoiding them, but spent most of the race lagging behind. They just couldn’t seem to push their racer hard enough to catch up to the teams that got a good lead.
Fortunately, as the race neared its end, some well-placed blaster shots too everyone out except for Razer. I was relieved I didn’t bet on us; there wasn’t as much money in a second place win. Herrick took one last, desperate shot at Razer as the local racer was just about to cross the finishing line, causing him to spiral out of control and crash in a horribly conflagration. We finished! We were the only finishers!
… and we were disqualified for causing the death of Razer. Sith spit.
As we all reconvened, my thoughts turned to how I was going to brush up my resume. I was going to need a job. We didn’t have enough money to stay for much longer (or even to refuel our ship and continue paying the docking fees). Our team killed the local favorite racer. Going incognito for a few years was looking pretty good.
A Hutt’s representative approached us before I could make my move. Our bold racing strategy didn’t help us win, but caught the attention of a Hutt who wanted us to go to the post-race gala as his representatives.
I have a bad feeling about this.