The column of speederbikes and hovertrucks blew up an enormous plume of sand and dust as the convoy sped out across the Sea of the Rising. Upon receiving the distress call, Kalak dispatched the relief effort to retrieve the valuable booty. Headed up by Koryn Thraagus, the Rodian raced his bike against the other speeder jocks with the trucks lumbering far behind.
Cresting the top of a massive dune and trailing a coma of dusty grit, the Aedile’s speeder launched itself on a parabola before plummeting to its standard levitating elevation. Koryn examined the crashed freighter, its durasteel hide scorched, holed and buckled from the attack and the landing. The ramp was extended at an odd angle, with a figure lying across its permatread surface. A quick read through the Force let the Rodian know the being was alive, if just barely.
The squad of bikers formed a perimeter, the droning of the hovertrucks growing in their ears. “Check the hold,” Thraagus said. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
After a few moments two of the riders came out of the wrecked starship, shaking their heads. “Empty.”
Koryn slammed his hand against the alloy slab. Someone would pay for this. Someone would pay.