A heavy-set man in a long black coat climbed down the steps of his Guild d'Lanseaux yacht and snatched a few moments to collect his thoughts. He glanced across the landing pad as a platoon of utility droids made their way over to his ship. In the distance, two squat looking Sullustans gossiped in front of the hanger, but other than them he was entirely alone. In front of him a holographic sign read ‘WELCOME TO TANAAB’; beneath is a small door led to the arrivals desk. He headed for it with a confident gait, his face expressionless.
Once at the arrivals desk he gave his documentation, which was fake, to a bored looking assistant who swiftly handed it back. The man had no luggage, which made his egress from the spaceport much quicker. There was a black speeder waiting for him outside, with a chauffeur droid behind the controls. It said nothing has he got in, not did it speak as it got underway and took a swift drive to their destination. The man now in the back of the speeder was Maximilian Prath-Praji, and he was one of the galaxy's criminal elite. He had also never been to Tanaab, well he hadn’t been. However, under various alter-egos, such as the one he used today, he was a regular visitor.
Given his profession, Maximilian was a cautious man, and when the invitation to meet had first arrived on his desk, delivered through a collection of middlemen, courier droids and others, travelling halfway around the galaxy and then back again, he had initially considered turning it down. He was not accustomed to being summoned like some sort of errand boy, he could not just be called over like a waiting droid. But, then he reconsidered. When one of the galaxy's up-and-coming Senators wanted to have a sit down, and one of their ‘associates’ had offered to foot the bill for transport and security, it wouldn’t hurt just to hear him out.
The speeder crossed an intersection and entered a narrow street toward a fancy yet discreet looking restaurant. He stepped out of the speeder without a word and walked through the Wyroshrr main door. Maximilian carried a chromium lined walking stick that tapped out his progress as it wrapped onto the floor. Soon, he disappeared into the restaurant proper, and at midday on a weekday, it was not anywhere near as busy as it otherwise would have been on a weekend. Ideal for a discrete meeting.
Maximilian walked down the middle of the restaurant, spotting a pair of Rodians midway through their starters on a table by the door. A bearded man with a backpack by his chair was looking at a datapad, running through pictures he had taken during the day. Tap, tap, tap. The end of the walking stick continued to beat out his marching progress through the restaurant. It was a large place, and Maximilian knew exactly where he was going. He was a large man, with broad shoulders that formed a flat line either side of a well-set neck. He was bald by choice, and his squinting eyes sat above a large nose that dominated his features. The man would not have looked out of place as a bouncer on the door of some shady nightclub, a heavy frame denying the keen intelligence that bordered genius. His appearance meant that many people underestimated him, yet the cruel looking scar that cut down over his eye showed he was more than accustomed to the harsher side of the galaxy.
Finally he took his seat at a small table at the back of the room, next to a fire escape. On the table next to them two men sat, currently nursing a bottle of wine between them. There was room for one other person at the table, the man who he was here to meet. On the wall next to the table rested a display case holding a statue of a diminutive jedi, he recognized it almost immediately. It was worth several hundred thousand credits.
What’s the point? he wondered as he sat down. Why should something that was worth so much be left to be stared at by gormless members of the public that had no idea as to its real value? Maxmilian had a simple rule on such matters, to enjoy something it had to be yours. and if you could not buy it, steal it. The rule had never failed him.
Sighing, he settled into his chair and waited for his contact to arrive - tapping his cane on the ground with impatience.
Once at the arrivals desk he gave his documentation, which was fake, to a bored looking assistant who swiftly handed it back. The man had no luggage, which made his egress from the spaceport much quicker. There was a black speeder waiting for him outside, with a chauffeur droid behind the controls. It said nothing has he got in, not did it speak as it got underway and took a swift drive to their destination. The man now in the back of the speeder was Maximilian Prath-Praji, and he was one of the galaxy's criminal elite. He had also never been to Tanaab, well he hadn’t been. However, under various alter-egos, such as the one he used today, he was a regular visitor.
Given his profession, Maximilian was a cautious man, and when the invitation to meet had first arrived on his desk, delivered through a collection of middlemen, courier droids and others, travelling halfway around the galaxy and then back again, he had initially considered turning it down. He was not accustomed to being summoned like some sort of errand boy, he could not just be called over like a waiting droid. But, then he reconsidered. When one of the galaxy's up-and-coming Senators wanted to have a sit down, and one of their ‘associates’ had offered to foot the bill for transport and security, it wouldn’t hurt just to hear him out.
The speeder crossed an intersection and entered a narrow street toward a fancy yet discreet looking restaurant. He stepped out of the speeder without a word and walked through the Wyroshrr main door. Maximilian carried a chromium lined walking stick that tapped out his progress as it wrapped onto the floor. Soon, he disappeared into the restaurant proper, and at midday on a weekday, it was not anywhere near as busy as it otherwise would have been on a weekend. Ideal for a discrete meeting.
Maximilian walked down the middle of the restaurant, spotting a pair of Rodians midway through their starters on a table by the door. A bearded man with a backpack by his chair was looking at a datapad, running through pictures he had taken during the day. Tap, tap, tap. The end of the walking stick continued to beat out his marching progress through the restaurant. It was a large place, and Maximilian knew exactly where he was going. He was a large man, with broad shoulders that formed a flat line either side of a well-set neck. He was bald by choice, and his squinting eyes sat above a large nose that dominated his features. The man would not have looked out of place as a bouncer on the door of some shady nightclub, a heavy frame denying the keen intelligence that bordered genius. His appearance meant that many people underestimated him, yet the cruel looking scar that cut down over his eye showed he was more than accustomed to the harsher side of the galaxy.
Finally he took his seat at a small table at the back of the room, next to a fire escape. On the table next to them two men sat, currently nursing a bottle of wine between them. There was room for one other person at the table, the man who he was here to meet. On the wall next to the table rested a display case holding a statue of a diminutive jedi, he recognized it almost immediately. It was worth several hundred thousand credits.
What’s the point? he wondered as he sat down. Why should something that was worth so much be left to be stared at by gormless members of the public that had no idea as to its real value? Maxmilian had a simple rule on such matters, to enjoy something it had to be yours. and if you could not buy it, steal it. The rule had never failed him.
Sighing, he settled into his chair and waited for his contact to arrive - tapping his cane on the ground with impatience.
