It all started in a pub on Leeds. A small wager and a few drinks. Who was I to know that it'd be my ruin?
Another cheer filled the crowded pub in the Commercial District of planet Leeds. Spacers of all kinds had arrived to watch the Gravball final between Leeds Commercial District GC and the Magellan Psyches. One man in particular, a stocky kind of fellow with a very odd accent, was stood at the bar, watching one of the holo-screens with hopeful eyes. "If LCDGC win, ah'll nae need t' worry abah't that load 'at went mouldy...." he mumbled, while trying to drink away the memory of the debt he ran up after delivering a shipment of foodstuffs that seemed to be developing personalities of their own upon arrival.
Suddenley, there was a cry of dispair from the crowd. The psyches had somehow equalised. Ten minuites left on the clock, and his hopes were ticking away faster than the six hundred seconds left in the game.
"There goes my freighter..." he grumbled, before reaching for his pocket, taking out a PDA.
"I'll still be in debt even if they take it...Goodbye seven-fifty thousand credits...." he muttered, another cry as the Psyches won with a last minuite goal. Once again, the Gravball Superleague trophy had slipped from Leeds Commercial's hands. But this time, so had one man's life. For the time being, at least.
