It was essentially a small, mobile shipyard, but located inside a planet's atmosphere instead of floating in space. Sifo had never seen anything like it before in all his travels across the Galaxy. It was a specialized piece of machinery that could only be used here for this one express purpose.
...
"Where'd you get that from?" He asked.
"Built it meself. As a young man, I found good money in fixing up a few old speeders in my shed. Collectors and enthusiasts loved them, the older the better. Museums sometimes, too. Kuat of Kuat loves his blasted Den range, has hundreds of garages.
Anyway, step-dad had the idea of working on bigger things, and came up with a shed we could put together and take apart easily, and we'd drive it out to old fighters, put up the shed around them and get to work.
"Problem was, there just ain't a market for old fighters. Freighters, too. Just not something a rich guy can show off to his friend, you know? Someone with a freighter's trying to run a business, and he just wants something cheap and available.
Trying to restore them just took too long, and was too expensive. The market for vintage cruisers and yachts was going to be when the trillionaires might take an interest, but they were too big and buried. If I could just get 'em above ground, I could work on things that were a lot bigger.
"Then I saw one of those jawa crawlers in a holo vid, and the idea hit me. So I put up the old shed and just started building. Step-dad got involved, and saw the money we could make off of just one good sale, and so we split the work between us. Speeder business did so well we were able to hire and train some people, and well know you see it."
Sifo shook his head, marveling at the scale of the work and its complexity. "Are you self taught?"
Julgut shrugged. "Well, yeah. But I also have qualifications, a Masters from the Kuati Institute of Technology. Didn't learn much, but people care about certification."
"Kuati?" Sifo looked at the scruffy, pot bellied man in his filthy overalls with his long scraggly beard and tried to imagine him in a classroom of engineering students. "How did you qualify for that?"
"Kuat of Kuat is a collector of vintage speeders, right? We got to talking, and he thought it was fair that I get a chance to test into the Institute, so he had a seat on the entrance exams set aside for me."
"You mean to tell me that you're a personal friend of the Kuat? One of the richest men in the Galaxy?" Sifo wasn't sure he believed it.
The man looked embarrassed, blushing under his facial hair. "The point is, you don't have to worry about my qualifications. I promise, I can get the ships running as good as new, and they'll pass any certification you need them too."
Having been around the Galaxy a few times, Sifo knew better than to trust people at their word, but even in the Force there was nothing to indicate this man was trying to be deceptive. As improbable a story as it was, Julgut really believed he was on a first named basis with Kuat of Kuat. That could easily be chalked up to the madness of Raxus Prime, but evidence of his genuine skills as an engineer were right there in the form of the crawler dock in front of him.
The hulls were in the condition that was promised, and the man seemed to have the right tools for the job. After getting confirmation from one of his contacts that Julgut's qualifications were legitimate, Sifo authorized the first payment to be made.
That very afternoon, despite the terrible weather, Julgut's crew got to work, all overseen by the grubby man. He waddled around the dig site, a radio in one hand and a waterproof holopad in the other, organizing the few dozen men who worked for him with his slightly high pitched voice ringing out clearly over the rain storm.
Sifo stayed for another hour to watch the men work before leaving, confident that they would be able to do the job. He would return in a month's time or so, to see how the first hull was coming along, but for now Raxus Prime was becoming difficult for him to handle. Despite the warm, humid weather, Sifo felt a growing chill from the looming Dark Side Nexus, one that only seemed to be growing stronger.
Deciding it wasn't worth it to spend the night here, Sifo kicked his speeder into gear and raced to the landing pad where his ship was parked. The speeder wasn't Sifo's, he rented it from a local kiosk and returned it with a small tip for the scrawny twi'lek boy working the counter.
After paying the parking fee for using the pad, Sifo headed towards his ship when a man in a dark hood stepped out from behind the corner of his ship.
Sifo stopped, taking in the details of the man's features. A red skinned zabrak, hairless, with a perfect crown of horns on his head and shorter than most men, a night brother from Dathomir. His eyes were yellow with the power of the Dark Side, and he had countless black tattoos spread across his face, that Sifo recognised immediately as Sith script.
That cold feeling across Sifo's skin only intensified as they locked eyes, and the assassin drew his lightsaber, no… lightstaff. The blade burned crimson, rain drops sizzling into steam when they touched it.
A sith, and the first Sifo had ever seen in person. Also, not who he expected.
It was a terrible situation to be in, and Sifo knew it. He was old, and definitely not in the shape he used to be, the alcohol he poured into his body with abandon had seen to that. The Force could be used to empower someone who would otherwise be physically frail, but here amidst a Nexus of the Dark Side, Sifo's connection to the Light Side was tenuous at best, and metaphysically distant to boot.
In contrast the Sith was young, and in his physical prime. The Dark Side was known to create powerful and dangerous warriors, and this one was obviously well trained. Even worse still, he would only be more powerful here on Raxus. There was no chance for negotiation either, the assassin's murderous intent was broadcast clearly through the Force.
Sifo knew that he didn't really stand a chance of winning this fight, but drew his lightsaber. "I worried that I might not live to ever see one of your kind."
The assassin smirked. "Playing for time, Jedi?"
Sifo shook his head. "I'm a historian. I've spent countless hours studying your kind, all in preparation for this moment. I have nothing to fear from you."
The sith chuckled at that. "And how many hours do you think I've spent studying your kind, Jedi? Not from some withered away, third hand account scrawled millennia ago, but here, today, now. Alive, until they met me."
"Well, come then. We'll see who the better student is."
The assassin charged, striking forward in the most vicious series of Juuyo movements Sifo had ever seen. When their blades met, it was immediately obvious who held the upper hand. On the defensive, Sifo stuck entirely to Soressu, diverting strikes and protecting his body, while not risking his limbs with exaggerated movements. He was forced back, the two flashing lightsabers screeching whenever they came into contact.
Sifo's backfoot touched the speeder stand, and he nearly tripped. He was so used to seeing with the force that he almost forgot where the obstacles around him were, but here on Prime he was nearly blinded to the future. This mistake nearly cost him his life, as the assassin, guided by the force,saw it coming and drove his lightsaber into the old master's chest.
Or he would have, if it hadn't deflected off something. Sifo was able to back away, burned but not killed. A thin chainmail of ancient cortosis showed under the new rent in his rain proof foil robes, which had just barely saved his life. The gaps between the tiny rings were more than large enough for hot air to pass through, roasting the flesh of his skin.
Sifo's side was in agony, and his breath was ragged from just a few minutes of exchanging blows. He backed away on unsteady feet towards his ship.
Hissing with annoyance, the sith leapt through the air to land between the Jedi and his ship. "Trying to escape, Jedi?"
With one hand holding his lightsaber, and the other reaching under his robe to clutch his injured side, Sifo grimaced. With his luck, the rain on Prime would give him an infection, and he'd be bedridden for weeks.
Assuming he escaped with his life.
Taking his hand away from his injury, Sifo reached for his holocom.
"Oh, please." The sith sneered. "Trying to call for help? Of course I'm jamming the signal, fool. You're trapped here."
Sifo tried dialing, but couldn't connect with anyone. He reviewed his options for a moment, unable to escape, victory seemed impossible. He was doomed.
Despite the pain he was in, and the odds stacked against him, Sifo felt calm, prepared for this.
"This is a trap." Sifo agreed, locking eyes with the sith. "But not for me, I'm just the bait." He dialed a different number on his holocom. Whatever jamming device the Sith had, it would have to be incredibly impressive to block a signal being sent just fifteen meters. Luckily it wasn't.
A holocom on Sifo's ship rang once, before the entire vessel detonated.
...
if you want to read ahead of the public release you can join my patreon :
patreon.com/Rimanovi