Victor Thrash
Sweeter than Ryshcate
"Get a move on! Be careful! Stupid hunk of junk," Victor kicked at the loading droid, his boot creating a resounding metalic thud but managing little else than to cause his foot to begin to throb. It had just dropped one of his crates, a medically sealed cargo crate filled with ryll. It was one of the last ones to make it off Ryloth before the Mandalorians and Alliance started to duke it out. Nobody knew if there would be any more coming out of Ryloth, and if it did it would be coming at a hefty price. Even more valuable was the ryll kor getting loaded onto his ship. It was a small amount, for a small producer of rylca. Not nearly as popular as bacta these days, small producers still made a profit by selling to poorer star systems who couldn't get enough Bacta for their needs. This ryll was headed to a world on the edge of the Chiss Ascendency.
Victor crossed his arms and watched the stars from beyond the electro magnetic shield of the trade station. Just on the horizon he could see the running lights of a few Corellian light cruisers, standing watch for Mandalorians and pirates. But mostly Mandalorians. The Corellian Run was a dangerous place these days, or so the Diktat said. All that meant for him was hazard pay.
A Devaronian walked up to him, the Station's keeper. She was looking over a datapad, her fur rippling from the exauhst of Victor's ship as it recycled its repulsorlift engines.
"That's a lot of ryll. And ryll kor? Aren't you a little young to be moving such important cargo?" Victor shrugged.
"Corellian relief to the Chiss Ascendancy. Pretty easy to get on the list if you're, you know, Corellian." The Devaronian rolled her eyes.
"Three crates of food stuffs, a few crates of ship parts...And an Ewok?" Victor pressed his fist into his temple, cursing slightly.
"Right. I'm picking up crew. I forgot," he groaned. He still hadn't cleaned up the ship.
