Competition: No Respite

A harsh light filtered into his eyes awoke Hector Von Ricmore from slumber. His limbs ached and his head pounded. Anything beyond breathing was a struggle.

The Kiffar forced himself, inch by agonizing inch, to move his head and analyze the situation. He lay on a rocky surface, somewhere on Zsoldos if his memory was correct. His armor lay in tatters. Burns littered exposed flesh. His body lay in the remains of an escape pod. The vessels IFF listed it as a pod from Korvis‘ ship.

Korvis.

Hector remembered now. He had been speaking with his consul aboard his ship when everything had gone wrong.

The group had gone to inspect the Vizsla shipyards refusing to respond to any communication. And then the reactor went critical. Korvis stayed aboard the vessel, delaying the reactor long enough for Hector to escape.

And now he was dead.

Hector couldn‘t believe it. Korvis was indomitable. Willful. Sturdy. He had been a constant presence in Clan Vizsla for the last few years. In a mere moment he was wiped away.

Tears rolled down Hector‘s face as his battered body shook with sadness and rage. He took heaving breaths; trying in vain to calm himself.

He burned with shame.

Shame at his own weakness. Once again unable to save someone close to him.

There would be a reckoning. He would find who was behind the sabotage; it was impossible that the Clan Vizsla mechanics would keep Korvis ship in such a poor state where a reactor meltdown was a natural occurrence.

Lost in his thoughts and feelings he missed the signs of a solitary figure approaching.

The woman wore robes of deep crimson with a pointed hood; the garb of a Nightsister Mother.

She announced her presence, twin voices overlapping, one high and one deep. “You seek vengeance?“

Hector eyed the being warily. He had no idea how the sentient had appeared before him. And Force users could have a variety of motivations.

“We share a common enemy, you and I. As thanks for liberating my temple on Dathomir I now offer you a proposition. Swear yourself to me, and swear that you shall not turn your blade upon me and cause me harm. And in return I shall teach you Magick, the secrets of the Nightsisters.”

The deal had the potential to be lucrative but there was certainly something that Hector was missing. But in his current state, mind clouded by injury and anger, he agreed to the deal.

The Nightsister mother wielded her magick with expertise; sealing his wounds and fixing his armor. Then, as suddenly as she appeared, she vanished.

The Dark Jedi stood and slowly made his way to the spaceport. He boarded his ship and requested aid from the Vizsla military. 24 members of Frostwolf Company responded to his call, armed with blaster rifles and explosives.

The strike team flew aboard Raven Requiem to the planet of Kant. Approaching the planets orbit, the ship landed aboard the Respite repair yard.

The team saw no signs of life. No forced entry but none of the repair yard workers were present. The team collected the jamming devices and proceeded further into the station. They entered the structure’s control room. The station’s cameras had been disabled in the attack and the data gathered had been corrupted. With enough time, hopefully a skilled slicer could fix the data and learn more.