**Chapter 503**
**Pirates of the Noonian Spur**
**Dagon POV**
**Aboard the Gray Wolf – Bridge**
We had been crisscrossing the Noonian sector for days, following fragmented leads from the old Hutt holodiary. The Celanon Spur was supposed to be heavily defended, yet planetary batteries lay stripped and vulnerable. Someone was siphoning off critical missile shipments, and I intended to find out who.
"General, we're detecting heavy activity on Er'Kit," Captain Piett reported. "Multiple ships on the surface and in low orbit. They're not broadcasting Republic or CIS transponders."
I leaned forward, zooming in on the tactical display. "Er'Kit… desert world, rich in rare minerals used for shield generators. Safe from the main war. Perfect place for someone to quietly arm missiles for a CIS contact and get a fat payday."
The magnified image showed a sprawling salvage operation across the dunes. Rodian scavengers swarmed over junk piles like insects. My lips curled into a cold smile.
"Rodian Salvager's Cartel," I muttered. "Led by Drexl Roosh. They pick planets clean and sell the scrap off-world. Looks like they've expanded into weapons smuggling."
**Scene 1**
**Er'Kit Surface – Rodian Salvager's Cartel Outpost**
Drexl Roosh lounged in the shade of a reinforced command crawler, chewing on a stick of spice as he watched his minions work. The desert planet was a goldmine — rich minerals perfect for high-yield missile warheads. His contact in the CIS had promised a fortune if he could deliver enough material.
His Rodian Heavy Defenders — bulkier, heavily armored thugs wielding Z0-16 rotary cannons — patrolled the perimeter. Slimmer Rodian Heavy Troopers with missile launchers provided long-range fire support from elevated positions. Rodian Rippers, wearing stun gloves fitted with blades and energy pads, darted between scrap piles, pulling junk toward them and flinging it like projectiles at anything that looked suspicious.
Their fleet in orbit was formidable even by pirate standards:
- 7 Cumulus-class Corsairs
- 20 Kom'rk-class fighter/transports
- 8 Gozanti-class cruisers
- 24 various modified freighters bristling with missiles and heavy blasters
"Boss, we got a problem," one of his lieutenants hissed, pointing at the sky. "Republic ships dropping out of hyperspace!"
Drexl stood up slowly, eyes narrowing. "Republic? Here? Kill them all. No witnesses."
**Scene 2**
**Gray Wolf – Bridge**
I watched the tactical display light up with enemy contacts. "Kom'rk-class fighter/transports… interesting. Two models — 68.1 meters with broad angular wings and 52.3 meters. Rotating wings for increased maneuverability. Hell yeah, I want those."
I stood from the command chair. "Kinaun, you have the fleet. Destroy their capital ships. I'm taking a Skelter down."
Minutes later, I launched from the *Gray Wolf's* hangar in my customized Skelter. The fighter streaked toward the surface like a black comet. I destroyed three modified freighters on the way down with rapid quad laser fire before ejecting and landing amid the chaos.
The Rodians turned toward me — Heavy Defenders spinning up their rotary cannons, Heavy Troopers shouldering missile launchers, Rippers charging with energized gloves.
I ignited my crossguard lightsaber and drew my beskar sword.
"Moon Breathing," I whispered.
Sixth Form: Perpetual Night, Lonely Moon.
A wild barrage of crescent moon blades erupted outward in a storm of curved slashes. Over five hundred pirates were sliced apart in seconds, bodies falling into the sand like broken dolls. I didn't care. They had chosen this life.
"General!" Kinaun's voice came over comms. "Orbital resistance neutralized. The Kom'rk fighters are attempting to flee."
"Disable their engines. I want them intact. Get tech teams down here immediately. I want every one of those fighters loaded and studied."
As the battle ended, I stood amid the wreckage, sand whipping around me. The AT-PTs, vibro-axes, and now a fleet of advanced Kom'rk transports — today had been very profitable.
I activated my comm. "All units, secure the site. We just hit the jackpot."