The Guardian was finished. The hyperdrive finally gave out, and Captain Darb bared his teeth through the smoke. The Sabertooth frigate had made good despite the wounds inflicted at the Battle of Corulag, the siege there tying up much of the Alliance Core Fleet until the Battle of Caamas. The Guardian had been deployed to engage the Resurgence, and that catastrophe had resulted in him departing the Alliance with the Guardians of Light, a faction of the Jedi Order. With the defeat of the Alliance in the weeks that followed, and the decimation of the Jedi and the Imperial Knights, the crippled frigate had made its way from world to world until the Grand Master had directed them here, deep into the Unknown Regions, as the flagship of a motley navy of civilian and Jedi ships. A gravitic anomaly had shredded the hyperdrive, and now, more half an hour since, the Guardian and its surviving crew were ready to move to the Chu'unthor.

Losing his patience, and acrid smoke in his lungs not helping matters either, the Captain strode up to Comms and slapped the board, making the Weequay manning it jump; in seven years he still hadn't got used to the man. "Guardian to the Chu'unthor. What the heck is going on? The Guardian is running out of time, and we need to get ferrying across supplies and people."