Manaan's Open Orbit

Out of the darkness of space a lone Gladiator-Class Star Destroyer bearing an insignia of a long-forgotten empire emerged above the watery planet of Manaan. Standing at the viewport on the bridge was an old man in faded robes. He held a walking stick in his left hand as he looked upon the planet. It had been many, many years since he had been back to his former home and a lot had changed since then. Countless thoughts bounced through his head as he observed their destination: homecoming, the draw of the Force, revenge. They were all good enough reasons to return, but which one was he really here for?

He shook the thoughts from his head as he spoke to the people waiting on the Bridge with him. They were some of his Howlers, the elite soldiers he trained personally. Out of all he had done with his life it was them who would most likely carry on his legacy.

Juna, take the Romulus planetside with Edson, Anya, and Xander. Report back when you have confirmation. You know where to look.

Copy that, sir.

The woman turned without another word and left the bridge with a man, Edson, on her heels. They would collect the others on the way and make their way to the hangar, boarding the Star Courier Romulus before debarking and making their way planetside.

He continued to stare out of the viewport at the planet as he forced himself to breathe evenly, controlling the rage that was boiling up inside. As he watched the Romulus depart, the remaining Howler behind him spoke.

I should be the one going down there. After what he did-

The man raised his right hand up to cut her off before turning to look at her. His eyes didn't hold anger or admonishment, only peace for her. His anger may have been rising on the inside for other reasons, but not for her. What she needed was guidance.

Patience, Lara. Patience. He and his kind will pay for his crimes, but we must not act rashly. There are other forces at work here that we must uncover before we can move against him.

He turned fully and put his hand on her shoulder to reaffirm her feelings and his words. Kelara was the best of not only his Howlers, but of all the apprentices he ever trained. As good as she was, everyone was susceptible to their emotions unless they learned the right time and place to harness them.

Remember what I taught you. Be the calm until you need to be the storm. Our time is coming.

She nodded to him as he gave her shoulder a final squeeze and turned back to the viewport. He refocused himself, reaching out to feel the pools of energy surrounding the planet. Before they could act on the reason they were here they needed clarity. All they could do now is wait for the team on the Romulus to report back.

*The Bucket of Rust jockeyed in line for permission to approach the planet. Manaan hung like a brilliant sapphire in the depths of space, a jewel that seemed to shift and flow as much as the churning seas below. Reed sat at the controls fidgeting with the clasp on the wrist mount of his datapad. Syren sat in the co-pilot seat beside him scrolling through holonet feeds.*

"Do you think they'll let us land?"

*Syren looked over at him with a raised eyebrow as she halted in her reading.* "What are we carrying that makes you ask that?"


*Reed shrugged.* "Our cargo is clean, this isn't a smuggling operation, but... don't those Sith types frown on letting your Jedi types in on there fun and games?"

*Reed waggled his fingers mysteriously like the Force was some arcane magic he didn't understand -- which it was and he didn't. Syren just snorted and turned in the seat to face him better.* "Are you worried about the Iron Fists? The group of gangsters and thugs that used run the show on Manaan and happened to carry the Sith title in their upper echelon?"

*Reed frowned, her non-chalance apparently disturbed him. She reached out a hand to him and squeezed his upper arm gently.* "The Iron Fists haven't been in the holonet feeds for years. If they are here, they're likely moldering away like I was on Corellia."

*Reed still looked skeptical. Syren waved her hand across the dashboard of the Bucket, the bracer Kaine had gifted her reflecting the errant sunlight illuminating the cabin.* "The Selkath aren't going to just stop a Corellian freighter because a Jedi Temple happens to be on Corellia. The Jedi don't own the planet, they just live there and study in the tomb like atmosphere."

*She pulled a wandering strand of verdant hair behind her pointy cyan ears. The movement caught Reed off guard for a moment and he was struck with a profound memory. But it quickly faded and he was back to the present, with this different version of Syren. He cleared his throat, but she had noticed the slight change in his mood. He turned away and she didn't pursue the topic, he clearly didn't want to bring it up - he had even closed his mind off like she had taught him. She respected him enough not to prod or probe through his emotions anyway.*

"Have you thought anymore on the offer Lance gave you at the temple? It's been months now since..."

*Now it was Syren's turn to frown.* "I have other obligations to take care of before I go galivanting off to Gaeren III. Prism needs to be freed from that holocron, and Lance needs to find his apprentices... Fool man didn't even bother to learn Basic before traipsing out into the galaxy..." *An exasperated sigh streamed from her nostrils. Lance complicated things, but really life was complicated enough.*

*She sat back in the co-pilot's chair thinking. There were loose strands everywhere. Past, future, present. The Force danced along each as she pulled the thoughts towards her. Syren didn't often take the time to orient around the threads she was traveling along, she generally just followed whatever story seemed to play out before her. Sometimes she felt more like a loose collection of plot devices than an actual person... but if the Force willed it, then so shall it be.

She flicked the holonet feed back on, absent mindedly scrolling with one part of her mind while another part started laying her recent actions in a neat little line:

Wake up from a coma on Corellia
Reestablish a connection to the Force
Meet up with Lance and reminisce about old times
Meet up with the crew and reunite with lost apprentice(s)
Rabbit off across the galaxy in search of Sith sorcerers in a vain hope to restore a trapped soul...

Ah yes, that's where she was: the insane mission that Desyre Akord was determined to accomplish. The details were still not fully clear on how Prism Varsi had become trapped in a holocron. Something about a blue plague on Froz... nevertheless her nautolan apprentice was currently non-corporeal and living in a virtual prison while her togruta apprentice was angerly seething about it, and had apparently been on a rinse and repeat cycle of elation and disappointment at reuniting with Prism while Syren lay comatose in a Jedi infirmary on Corellia.

Syren had no idea how long the slide into madness had been going on, but apparently long enough that Desyre had left the order and the toe dips into the dark side had left her reeling on the edge of sanity. There was not a lot Syren could offer to the girls, women she supposed now, but it was clear that taking them as apprentices in the first place had been a terrible decision on her part. Desyre had been a phenomenal healer and had spent years with the Selonians working to save lives. But she had come to Syren one day asking to be trained in darker pursuits - the pursuit and removal of dark presences.

It had taken a while, but Syren knew what she was - a person who walked a line between sanity and insanity - and her talents with the Force were precarious enough to lend her some efficiency with hunting Sith and not immediately dying.

While Desyre was a bit from the left field, Prism had been more of what Syren expected - a person who reveled in the hunt. What Syren blatantly ignored about Prism was her rash decision making process. Making decisions in the moment was necessary, however when given the time to think things through, Prism would often dart after the shiniest things, so to speak. It's what initially led her and another padawan to Concord Dawn during an onslaught against the Sith and Mandalorians and caused more heart ache that was really necessary.

She signed, the maudlin feelings of regret, guilt, and loss blossoming throughout her chest. She glanced out the viewport again at the shining jewel of Manaan. The oceans here could help to wash away some of that stain, but she doubted it. Manaan had always been full of darkness, and it likely wasn't as brilliant as the light of day made it seem.

Both Reed and Syren passed each other a look, one that seemed to say - this will likely not go like we expect it to. And then the comm chirped with instructions to approach the planet.*

Manaan Traffic Control registered a sensor alert from the outer sensor pickets. Something big was coming in from hyperspace. Moments later, the operator was able to relax, as the Vegemite Star Destroyer emerged, her IFF identifying herself as the Sinistra's Wrath. After linking in with local control, the Destroyer took station above the planet.

The ship was at Manaan for a week's shore leave, as well as exercises with the planetary garrison, in space, in atmosphere, and on the surface. Training was good, wargames pitting rival units and those from different branches were even better, more competitive, and highly conducive to maintaining good morale, as well as good relationships between the services.

Manaan's deep blue surface rotated far below the massive destroyer, and a steady stream of craft began making trips from space to surface, mostly towards Ahto City. Two squadrons of fighters were up and running patrol vectors around the planet, while the others were undergoing maintenance in preparation for the next day's wargaming.

The government of Manaan was largely invisible. The local Selkath elected representatives to their parliament to oversee Selkath affairs. The Vegemite Enclave was the planetary government, and it was largely hands off. As long as the corporations that harvested and prepared the Kolto for export did not get too greedy, and the locals behaved, they were left alone. Security was provided by the Vegemite Enclave rather than the IRI, as with Myrkr, they did not need assistance at Manaan in protecting themselves.

A symbol of the Enclave's power and a concentrated mass of heavy firepower, the Sinistra's Wrath was visible from Ahto City far below. No one with any sense provoked the Vegemite Enclave. No one knew what might happen. No one wanted to find out.

And so Manaan had been left well alone, even by the nastiest pirates and the bravest smugglers. Its Kolto exports continued, and to new markets made available due to Manaan's membership in the Inner Rim Imperium.