Lightning shatters the sky and strikes the spire atop the cloning complex towering before anyone who steps off their ship and onto the rain-slick landing platform. Kamino, the Planet of Storms, is known for its roiling seas and constant torrential downpour. The fall of the Galactic Empire hit the planet’s primary export of military cloning projects extremely hard, but the Kaminoans remained afloat, both figuratively with contracts to galactic warlords, and literally with the brilliant engineering of their iconic seaborne cities.

The initial landing pad is a wide circle designed to accommodate a variety of ships, and is connected to a series of other platforms as well. Every surface is slick with rain, but avoids flooding due to the sloped edges that allow the water to run off into the sea below and away from the centerpoint.

The cloning facility’s exterior is characterized by similar slopes, and raindrops rapidly transform into steam as they touch against the series of lightning rods around the platform, much like they would if they dripped onto a lightsaber blade.

History tells of the fateful encounter between Obi Wan Kenobi and renowned Bounty Hunter Jango Fett. The doors of the facility are sealed, which means that whatever challenge awaits you, will have to be faced in the heart of the omnipresent rainstorm.

Dolash peered through the curved transparisteel, bombarded by a perpetual, torrential downpour. The shuttle’s trajectory spiraled down toward a dark gray landing pad that almost seemed to blend in with the grayish water below. At least the similarly colored sky was sliced by the incessant lightning in the troposphere above. The planet hopper shuttle he was lounged within was a mere twenty-seater. Even so, it was almost completely empty. The Mandalorian Gray Jedi guessed it was close to retiring, judging by the scarred exterior and foggy transparisteel covered with small pits.

The interior was just as spartan, other than its age and heavy service providing the only embellishment. Its aisles were laid with strips of gray no-skid. Dolash sat as far as possible from the only other passenger in the limited space the shuttle permitted. The Tarenti wore clothing appropriate to his cover: a stained, dirty Scoundrel© leather vest over a loose shirt that used to be white and form-adorning black pants with patches worn to a lighter shade, almost gray. His boots appeared to be somewhat well maintained, polished above the ankle; the uppers were abraded almost to suede.

Hidden under his cloak upon his right thigh was a holstered DL-44 blaster pistol. Clipped to his belt was his lightsaber. He skimmed the encrypted content on his datapad, which he held in his hands. The device partially obscured his face as he periodically checked upon the only other passenger aboard the lunar shuttle. The datapad had information on his quarry, a powerful Sith named Bentre, who had been identified as a senior leader within Clan Naga Sadow. For such a powerful man, Dolash had received very little data otherwise. This made his adversary exceedingly dangerous.

Dolash was nervous. An arc of sweat darkened the cowl of his cloak as he maintained his composure as best he could. Throughout the entire flight, he had focused his force presence within, attempting to remain as stoic as possible. His plan was foolish. He had spent the entirety of the flight reading the brief dossier on Bentre over and over, determining the most appropriate attack vector.

Well, Dolash concluded, The time to act is now.

Dolash placed the datapad within the kitbag on his back as he began to stand. He peered into the pilot’s cabin, making sure not to glance back at Bentre for fear of alerting him. As Dolash stepped through the entrance of the cabin, he began to adjust the device on his wrist. With a flourish, the blade ejected from its position, and Dolash forced it into the droid’s information matrix center, placed directly at the base of the machine’s head. He forcefully pulled the droid’s head from its position, struggling as circuits and struts clung in their place, and tossed it along with the body onto the floor as he began his hasty preparations.

Using his mechanical experience, Dolash was able to send the shuttle into a spiraling, downward free fall directly towards one of the landing pads that extended from a massive facility like spokes on a wheel. The timing seemed close enough as Dolash studiously analyzed the trajectory and then exchanged his focus back towards the command console. Dolash pressed a button that caused an emergency subroutine to activate, forcing open all doors on the shuttle, allowing a last ditch escape. He had learned a long time ago that you were more likely to survive jumping from a vehicle in flight than trying to brace for impact.

Dolash ran up to the edge of the exterior door. The passing wind made a fierce sound, as if a pack of injured Gorgodons were shrieking all around him. The time was now though; the shuttle was on a crash course, and Dolash would be able to use the Force to soften his impact upon the rapidly approaching landing pad, hopefully not breaking any of his limbs. Regardless, it was going to kriffin’ hurt. Holding his breath, Dolash ran to the edge, using it to propel himself as far out towards the center of the landing pad as possible.

Landing with a roll, the young Tarenti managed to endure the foolhardy plan unscathed. He watched with satisfaction as the ship crashed into an adjacent landing pad and broke into flaming pieces. He sighed in relief, chuckling with an adrenaline-fueled sense of well being.

“So, how do you propose we get off this backwater planet now?”