Outer Rim Territories
Nancora System
Nancora Prime
The Badlands
Nancora seemed bothered. It often found itself driving its scratching winds in an effort to try and bury the insulting blemishes across its surface. Year after year brought the roving scavengers—seeking loose shards of metal and wiring for their trade value—though this only sought to add to the already substantial debris dotting its otherwise clear surface, because inevitably the planet would unleash its suffocating winds and grind them into the surface. Of course, the vessels they came on took a bit longer to wear down. Not that Nancora minded; it was an ancient rock and possessed no sense of time. While most millennia had passed with the same cycle in mind, this current millennia had come to require much more attention. With the arrival of a stubborn bunch of creatures who had developed ways to combat Nancorra’s gnawing winds also came those who sought to destroy them. Now the planet found itself working overtime to try and groom its surface once again. In one section, where a tower of durasteel stood in defiance of Nancorra’s attempts to bury it, a small vessel rocketed to the surface and ploughed a decent trench through the softer portion of a plateau. Within the cracking metal the planet could feel the energy of three beings, with one having a stronger presence in the Force than the others. The winds began to gather in anticipation. One more organic in need of a good eroding…
Were Nancorra capable of determining the specific designation of modern spacecraft technology, it would have noted that this particular vessel was an escape pod bearing codes belonging to parties within the Dark Jedi Brotherhood. And that the “organics” within were a Zabrak and his closest companions. And that the beings pursuing them were not allies.
The air was dry. Not the normal dry when the summer sun beats back the clouds and sweeps away most of the moisture in the air for a week or so. This was another level entirely. The Zabrak lay trying to get his bearings, while with each breath he took the air reached in and dissipated what moisture it could. Though it caused discomfort to do so he continued breathing lest he find himself more akin to a Pantoran in the face than himself.
He was stranded, of that he no doubt. The burning question he came to consider was just where exactly he was on the surface. He whipped his head back and forth in an attempt to jog his memory. He could clearly recall having to abandon the Plagueis frigate he’d been aboard, and the Z-95 Headhunter that had subsequently shot down his escape pod. Again, however, he could not place just where above the planet the pod had ejected towards. He realised he was not standing already and twisted his body to begin the ascent, only to groan in pain as his bruised body complained. He could handle a bit of pain, he was a Zabrak warrior after all, but the true shock came from his mental link with his pet massiffs. It just was not there.
A panicked Kul’tak gripped hard on a piece of pod siding for a bit of support as he probed the gritty sea around him. His fear was confirmed when he spotted two dark brown piles half buried in the shifting sands. Stumbling over to one, he violently scooped the sand and tossed it aside as he pulled the bundle into his arms. It was Shar’kala, his female massiff. He hesitantly checked her vitals, wishing for the best while fearing the worst, but to his relief he found a weak pulse. He carried her to what little shade the torn pod provided then went back out for what could only be Shor’kir, his male massiff. The alpha appeared to be in slightly better condition as his heart beat stronger, but neither showed signs of consciousness. Kul allowed his two hearts to slow their rhythmic staccato and tried to clear his mind. Survival was now the priority.
The Zabrak checked the pod and began rummaging in what appeared to be the remains of the emergency supply bin. Within it should have been the necessary items to survive for a time for whoever happened to be stranded or whatever reason they needed an escape pod for. To Kul’s chagrin, the crash had peeled the walling off in this section, along with most of the supplies. All that was left available to him were his personal items, as well as a sole canteen of water and a few ration bars, and a flare gun with a chambered round. The charred hole that had allowed the wall to be ripped away led Kul to believe the other rounds would not be found. He did seem to recall a blinding flash when they hit the plateau, now that thought about it. Maybe that was why his head was throbbing so much. He took a quick sip of the canteen to wet his throat before forcefully placing it aside. If--when, he reminded himself--his massiffs recovered enough to awaken, they would need sustenance. Kul would sooner starve than watch his beloved pets die before his eyes. And to Antei with the consequences. Still...his situation was dire.
Watching the image pulled up before her on her datapad, Kendra Icasta let a slow smile crease the scar on her left cheek. She had been ordered to follow an escape pod that had descended to Nancora’s surface below, and her readings had just informed her that there was a living being that had emerged from its wreckage. She and the rest of the her party of Huntresses had boarded a Collective vessel and followed it down, and now the hunt was worth it. It appeared she might get to have a bit of fun now. The retrofitted LAAT/i gunship her squad was occupying banked down and emerged from the atmosphere. In the distance a plateau rose to challenge the distant tower that was a hub for some of the Technocratic Guild’s scrappers. The pilot zoomed in behind it to provide them cover from the pod survivor’s view, as well as the rising winds.
Kul rolled the flare gun in his hands as he contemplated his situation. What were the odds that someone would fly close enough to see a flare? Even if it was seen, it was more likely that the eyes would belong to someone within the Collective. Not that that bothered him. Confrontation was his specialty, and it would give him a chance to possibly find a way to contact someone in Clan Plagueis. After a few minutes more of bouncing ideas around, the Zabrak checked once again on his massiffs. They still lay silent in their slumber, their leathery hides rising and falling in jerking motions, but otherwise did not stir. If he had to move, it was looking like he’d have to carry them at this rate. That appeared to be his only choice. Sticking the flare gun within the belt of his armor, he gripped midway up his flowing cloak with both hands...and pulled. Against his raw strength the fabric ripped easily enough, and he continued tearing until he had a full swathe of cloth to work with. He fashioned this into a makeshift bag and stuffed the canteen and ration bars inside. The top end he tied to his belt where the interrupted pattern of the silver Krayt dragon embroidered upon it glinted in the sun. He cringed inside at the defecation of such an important symbol to him, but he reminded himself that survival came before pride. He could imagine the bemused look on the face of his fellow beastmaster and ally, Tahiri Drakon, as she scoffed at his expression. She’d have probably already hopped on her Tukata and ridden towards the closest enemy outpost already, throwing him a look of ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ The thought brought a brief smile to his lips, but it vanished quickly when he realized he heard the roar of an aircraft’s engine. It had to be close for him to hear it over the wind and sand as it scratched everything.
Ducking out from under the pod’s shade revealed to him that the vessel was indeed close. It rested floating above the pod while keeping the plateau on its port side to help block the wind. As Kul emerged he raised a hand to guard his vision as the craft opened its unloading door. He could make out a few figures inside, but the one that grabbed his attention was a Chiss woman with a cybernetic eye. His eyes narrowed as he recognized signs of the Collective, but he crossed his arms and maintained a calm appearance, regardless of being obviously outnumbered. The Chiss grabbed one of the deployable ropes and slid down it to the soft sand below. The others, a mixture of Kiffar and other cybernetically enhanced species, remained on the vessel with blasters and slugthrowers locked onto Kul. She took a few forward steps to get into hearing range, with no regard for the wind pounding her exposed arms and face. Kul rested his right hand over the top of his saber, while his left hid behind his back where he could quickly grab a ryyk blade. Both never took their gazes from each other, two hunters observing potential prey. The winds began to pick up intensity, rocking the vessel above them. If no one made the first move they would both be buried before nightfall. The Chiss spoke first.
“Greetings. On behalf of the Collective I am here to inform you that you are now our prisoner. Surrender peacefully and I will let you live. Long enough for us to find out how deep your knowledge of the Brotherhood goes, in any case.”
Kul’s eyes grew dark as he gave her a hard look.
“I did not come with my clan to Nancora in order to surrender to my enemies.”
Kendra clapped her hands together in elation, and her remaining biological eye glinted with excitement.
“I had a feeling you would say something of the sort. You do not have the look of one who knows fear so easily. A hunter, like myself. We enjoy ending the chase more than leading it. I shall kill you quickly, as one hunter to another.”
As the Chiss began to raise her weapon, a slugthrower that Kul had not even noticed her loosen from her waist, her commlink burst into chatter.
“Huntress, the winds are picking up swiftly. We need to get done here before the ship is dragged down by them.”
As if listening, Nancora’s winds shifted and drove into the exposed side of the LAAT/i. Distracted, the pilot was unprepared for the sudden turbulence and could not correct in time. The vessel screeched as it was dragged across the rocks of the plateau. Its port side repulsor cracked and burst into flame, sending the vessel spinning wildly. A huntress was tossed from the open door, her screams lost in the wind as she crashed into the side of the plateau and fell limply to the sand below. The rest were not so fortunate as the landing craft struck the plateau again and again, the winds unrelenting in their battering of the surface. Finally the metal gave way, and the vessel spun dejectedly to land in on the far side where bodies lie beaten and broken within. Kendra cursed to herself at the misfortune, but quickly shifted back her gaze as her instincts flared.
Kul was no new blood to combat. After years of learning to survive in the harsh climate of Plagueis, he had learned an important lesson: when opportunity presents itself, take it. He did not question the fortune of the winds striking as they did that day, but he did take advantage of the lapse in concentration his would-be captor showed. As soon as her eyes were averted he slipped his lightsaber up and out, but left its blade retracted, while swinging with deadly fury from the left with his ryyk blade. As the metal bore down on her he saw victory in his sights, but a sudden ducking motion taught him that he was against no mere soldier. As she bent low Kendra procured a weapon of her own, a stun baton, and thrust it into Kul’s abdomen. With his momentum and balance working against him now, she had plenty of time to activate the baton’s main function. Electricity pulsed into the Zabrak as he stumbled by her, and his muscles clenched in agony. He dropped to the sand as his mind blanked out of existence for a moment, but his churning hearts allowed him to recover enough to roll and dodge a stabbing heel the Chiss dropped downward.
His anger was now manifesting within him. It was always there, in the recesses of his true self. Though he had tried to temper it with patience, he could not deny the fact that his anger is what made him a strong Sith. With eyes blazing like embers, he rose before the Huntress and planted himself firmly. His vision began to cloud, centered around the sapphire glow of his opponent’s skin tone. His rage locked onto that and allowed it to guide him. He came at her, warrior and predator all at once. His mind registered the report of a slugthrower, and the stinging pain that accompanied it, but he continued to bear down. The rage remembered he had tools that he could use to help defeat this enemy. Glowing fire grew from the cylinder in his right hand. He slashed at the blue form with it, but it dashed away. He followed, only intent on destroying it. His rage screamed for blood, and he would satisfy its clawing hunger. On and on he slashed and punched and kicked at the enemy, but it managed to live a bit longer.
Kendra spun away again as the Zabrak bore down on her. He had become more like a beast than anything, his eyes wild with bloodlust.
So this is the extent of the Brotherhood and their Force? A pity. I had hoped for more of a challenge.
As she recovered her balance she slipped her baton back into its sling and exchanged it for a metal whip. With a shake of her arm and a flick of her wrist, the coiled strands flicked out and wrapped themselves around the Zabrak’s throat. A press of a button activated the charge within, engulfing Kul in another torrent of shocking tendrils. He resisted, his rage pushing him through most of the pain, by dropping his weapons and grabbing the whip with both hands. Assured that even he could so easily pry loose the tight cords, her remaining real eye went wide when the empowered Sith pulled the whip with all his might suddenly. The yank picked Kendra up and carried her over his head, where she crashed into the sand next to him. She refused to relinquish her grip on the whip, however, keeping the raw energy pouring into him. She could only watch in fear as Kul towered above her, a hand gripping his second ryyk blade. He raised his hand to bring down the fatal blow. The blade sung in the wind as it fell, aimed directly for her heart. Kendra watched as Kul’s eyes burned crimson, waiting for a moment to strike. When she thought she had her chance, the Zabrak’s gaze suddenly shifted and his eyes rolled back into his head. His body fell to the sand with a weighty thud and a splash of sand. His rage had run as dry as the desert around them.
Cautiously, Kendra poked at the Zabrak with a boot before grabbing at the belt buckle he wore that bore the symbol of Clan Plagueis upon it. She shuffled underneath the cover of the pod’s wreckage and rummaged in the pocket of her garment and pulled out a datapad that had been tucked away. Tuning it to a specific channel, she dialed in and spoke into it.
“Command, Icasta reporting. Tell Field Commander Ordam I have a prisoner he might be interested in. If the intel on the Plagueis scrolls is true…” she held the buckle closer to her cybernetic eye, “...then I have a feeling we’ve found a good lead.”