The shuttle burst out of light speed, thundering through the blackness of space toward a small flotilla of vessels very few in the galaxy knew existed. On board, Zem Vymes waited. It had been nearly a year since he'd spoken with any Jedi other than Lok s'Ilancy. That the Jedi were still well gave him hope, but he knew that he carried knowledge of an approaching storm, the likes of which hadn't seen seen since the darkest days of the Purge. The Jedi order was nascent and growing, but they were still fragile and vulnerable. If they didn't act quickly, the work of the past decades would be for nothing.

"We're clear to land, Master Vymes."

He only nodded, seeing the familiar-looking wedge of a Venator cruiser dominating the forward viewscreen. Not too long ago, he'd seen similar sights, on the cusp of another approaching storm. The Jedi barely survived Darth Sidious's purge. They had to survive Darth Decepis's.

"Alert the council. I must speak with them immediately."