Sor-Jan Xantha
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THE ALARIS TEMPLE || KASHYYYK SYSTEM
Age was said to come with wisdom.
Instead, the older that he got, the less sure the Anzat was that he knew anything. About himself. About the Force. About the Jedi. After the disasterous business trip to Zonju V and the unfortunate mess that had followed, he needed a place to get away. Try to find himself at the very least.
The last time he had taken a sabbatical such as this, it had been to Ahch-To with Jorus Merrell. The two lost Jedi had connected there, leading to Sor-Jan's introduction to the Underground and providing him a restored sense of purpose in the Kathol Outback. A renewed sense of hope that had, for too fleeting of a time, buoyed his spirits as he continued to try and find his place in this galaxy so different from what he had known.
But where did one go when it all falls down?
The Galactic Alliance had fallen, and the people of the Outer Rim Coalition -- however well intentioned -- were not the same as those that he had gone to Demonsgate or Exocron with just a decade prior. He had found a confidant in
Scherezade deWinter
, but their battle in the wake of the Zonju affair had seemingly sparked a fire in them both. They were both frustrated, for many of the same reasons. Best to leave her space in which to reconcile her demons. Sor-Jan had problems of his own that he needed to try and work through.So he returned to what felt familiar. Or, at least, what was as close to it as he could get.
The Jedi Temple on Coruscant that he had grown up in as a Jedi hopeful was gone, some eight hundred years past. Burned in the fires of the New Order that Sor-Jan had unknowingly helped to create, rebuilt and torn down a hundred times by events that he knew little or nothing about, owing to his removal from them. He had left the Clone Wars and arrived in the wake of the Netherworld Incident. There was no Empire here. Corellia had been a shattered world. And the galaxy was a chaotic assortment of splinter groups and political factions.
For a time, he had found sanctuary on the moon of Yavin. But that sanctuary had been turned out by the Mandalorians. Then, he had found solace in the Silver Temple on Voss-Ka, but while he had been away, in the corporate boardroom, the Silver Jedi had fled the persecution of the Sith and left Voss behind. His anger over that decision had caused Sor-Jan to leave the Silver Jedi behind as well.
The words seemed to haunt him now. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. He had heard them as a child. Repeated them several times. Thought that he had instilled them in his own padawans, yet fell victim to the trap all the same. His need to belong had caused him to fear losing those roots that so tenuously tethered him to this unfamiliar time. When the Silver Jedi had fled Voss, he had been angry at them for it. And, in his anger, the resentment had led to his suffering apart from the same people he could have turned to for help or understanding.
He'd come to them now. Looking for what, he didn't yet know. Forgiveness? Rejuvenation? It had been so long since he'd found the peace in which to meditate, that it was nice to just take in the forests. The smell of the trees was a sensation unlike anything he had ever known on Coruscant. And, despite their love for their homeplanet, Corellians would have to admit that there was a tad too much exhaust in the atmosphere of the Elder Brother to have ever smelled the flowers around Coronet City.
He had found his escapism at the Jedi Temple on the moon of Alaris. Kashyyyk was close enough that it was visible in the night's sky, but the boy wasn't ready to step foot in the Silver Rest yet. He didn't feel right about it, which was more about him than it was the temple or the Wookiees. Until he could put aside his feelings toward the move from Voss to Kashyyyk, he was content to wrestle with those fears and doubts at an arm's length from the Silver Council that he had once served.
The boy sat down in the communal dining hall within the temple. A simple tray for a meager meal and a wooden cup for water. Not the elaborate experience of dining aboard the Intervention or the excess of calories and sugar to be found in a trip to McYodas. It was simple living. And, to be honest, he was finding it a welcome reprieve from a corporate life that had dictated every second of his schedule. Too often, he ate fast food just because it was fast and there was another meeting to get to. Another report to prepare. Another presentation to give.
Truthfully, his corporate empire was more than capable of running without him at this point.
Marque
had Corellia Digital and Holoflix's operations well in hand, while Aisha could manage Corellia Defense better than he could. And the accounting droids made Correl Financial an enterprise that was largely autonomous. So long as their shares continued to supply a good dividend, he doubted that the board of trustees would even note his absence. Which all helped to make this a trip where he could set aside thoughts of business and just concentrate on himself.The boy's hand reached for the wooden cup, then hesitated as he started to bring it to his lips. His head rose as his posture straightened. It seemed as though the Force may have had other ideas for what he was going to do today...
"General Xantha."
The voice came from behind him. Setting the cup down, the boy merely gestured to the empty seats that were directly across from him. As a pair of shadows passed by, the boy's icy blue eyes gazed up to find a pair of temple guards now standing in front of him. "I'm sorry to bother you, Master, but we need your help."
Master.
Master of what, he wondered. Even when he'd lived among the Jedi, the boy had never found that being addressed as master suited him. He was not even his own master, how could he possibly hold him out as such for another? Forcing a slight smile, the boy merely said, "Few come to the Jedi seeking else," and beckoned for the guards to take a seat.
The second guard produced a holocaster, setting it atop the table. A tap of his finger produced a star map. At first, the stars displayed held no specific meaning to him. "With the recent terror attacks by the Mandalorians, and increased activity along the border with the Sith, many of our finest are focusing their attention along the north and west regions," the guard said, soliciting a nod as the boy registered the fact that this was a map of the Silver Jedi territories. "This has caused certain groups to exploit the reduction in activity to the east. Pirates have been attacking magnetite shipments along the Nanth'ri Trade Route."
"There aren't any experienced Jedi commanders available at the moment," the first guard said, cutting to the chase. "We know you haven't led an expedition in years, Master, but we were hoping you might do so again."
Leaning back, the boy found himself at something of a loss. He had only just returned to the Jedi, and not even to the Silver Rest. This certainly wasn't what he expected to do today.
Still, it was a chance to get back out there. He might not know what he was looking for, but meditating in one place wasn't going to be how he found it in any case. "If there are any Antarian Rangers or Padawans available, let them know," the boy stated finally.
"We'll leave as soon as there's a star cruiser available."
PRINTAAR SYSTEM || THE INNER RIM
"Captain's Log, Twelfth of Elona, Day Seven of the expedition to the Nanth'ri Trade Route."
"After our last encounter with pirates near Terrijo, I'm happy to report that we've seen no signs of them in Grid N-13. The ship is now moving into Grid N-12 and should arrive at the Printaar System shortly."
The youngling knight arrived on the bridge of the star cruiser just a few moments after having been summoned by the Officer of the Deck.
Through the transparisteel window out into the wider cosmos, he could see the twin suns of Antar and Printaar. They'd arrived in the home system of the Gotal, and the major source of magnetite in the sector.
"Slow us to one-quarter sublight," the boy requested. For their journey aboard the Nadesico, the small Anzat had changed out of the traditional Jedi robes and into something better fitting a spacer. As he took a seat in the command chair, the youth turned toward the right side of the bridge. "Com-scan?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary, General," the technician remarked. "Twelve ships, all registered freighters. Several smaller shuttles, moving between the mining settlements."
Well, at least they hadn't dropped out of hyperspace into the middle of a pirate raid. Again, that is. "Quartermaster, move us toward the planet Antar," the boy uttered, leaning back into the command chair as his head faced forward once again.
"General, we're being hailed."
To be expected. Particularly if shipping was being attacked. Making a motion to indicate for the communications operator to open the channel, the boy rose from out of the chair as he announced, "This is Master Sor-Jan Xantha of the Silver Jedi Ship Nadesico."
In front of him, a blue-scan line hologram took shape, as the image of a male Gotal snapped into being. "Administrator Brunt of the Gotal Port Authority, Master Jedi. We are wondering, why are you here?"
The question prompted a look from the boy over to his First Officer for this cruise. He supposed that pirates weren't the worst of it. The last thing any planetary government wanted was for the Jedi and the Mandalorians, or the Jedi and the Sith, to start going at it in their home star. After all, it had happened to Thyferra and the planet was still recovering from having whole star destroyers crash into it. "We've received reports of pirate activity along your trade routes," the youth stated in an even tone, adding, "Our presence here is merely intended as a deterrence. We bring no conflict here, though I would appreciate any information that you might have on attacks on shipping through this sector."
"We would not discuss such things over subspace radio, Master Jedi. However, we are willing to meet at Temba Port for the purpose of an informational exchange."
"I am thankful for your generosity, and hope to show ours as well," the youth answered, with a slight bow. As he straightened back up, the tow-headed Jedi asked, "May I request that my crew be allowed to visit your homeworld? We have traveled a fair distance and I would hate for them to lose out on the opportunity."
"Permission granted, Master Jedi. We shall transmit orbital staging coordinates to you now."
The boy looked off toward the com-scan officer. The Gran turned toward his console for a moment, before turning back. "Receiving orbital telemetry now, General."
With a nod, the boy turned his attention back toward the holographic image of the Gotal. "May the Force be with you, Administrator. Nadesico out."
As the hologram vanished and the transmission ended, the youth returned to the command chair. "Helm, put us in orbit of the fourth moon," the boy said. Then, reaching over to the intercom controls on the arm rest, opened a message throughout the interior of the ship.
"All Hands, this is General Xantha. After a week in space, I imagine you may be a bit eager for a change of scenery. We are in orbit of Antar 4. Shore leave is authorized, but keep your comlinks on you."
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