Ishan sat quietly aboard his theta-class shuttle as it ripped through hyperspace on its destined path to Courscant. He was alone, and in that he was pleased. It wasn’t often he got to enjoy his own company – especially on a space voyage. But today was different; he had left the planet Onderon in route to Courscant for some unfinished business that needed dire attention.

This time alone gave the Dark Prince time to reflect, and he was certainly in one of those moods. His mind wandered as he watched the stars streak by the cockpit window. His mind was not filled with business but instead of things past. He thought of his brief tenure with the Sith Order, his training under Jeseth Cloak and the Krath, and lastly his home he had now made on Onderon with Kuklos Ataxia.

Since the dismemberment of the Black Hand its members scattered from Bast like cockroaches from light.

Jeseth had disappeared, presumed dead. His mysterious illness that had eaten away at him had probably been the undoing of the Dark Lord but the truth of the matter was that no one knew exactly what became of him.

Ishan’s interest in the arts of the ancient Sith had fueled him into countless hours of mediation and reading. He grew stronger everyday, and nothing pleased him more. Still, the thirst remained.

The galaxy was so vast.

All these things swirled in Ishan’s mind.

As the shuttle came out of hyperspace just beyond the reaches of the city-planet, Ishan shook his head free of these cobwebs. He touched a screen fixed into the armrest of the pilot’s chair.

“Starr.”

The intercom of the ship came to life. “My Lord?”

“I have a few stops to make before I return to the complex. Have Admiral Kent prepare an inventory report and bring it to my office.”

“As you wish Prince.”

Ishan piloted the shuttle down into the atmosphere of Courscant.