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A planetary economy bent almost to the breaking point by refugees from Coruscant. An orbital satellite grid devastated by battle. A world pillaged during a prolonged military occupation and all the exploitation and looting that come along with that unfortunate fate. And finally, there was the unprecedented complication that the Mandalorian Crusaders--a fanatical off-shoot of a people who were never renowned for military discipline--may not have been completely driven from the world, but instead had gone to ground to take refuge in hidden coverts and redoubts across the planet. 

 

The Survivor’s Foundation had faced complicated reconstruction projects in the past. There was the rebuilding of Mon Calamari, where Esperanza had restored an oceanic ecology from an almost-primordial state of ruin. But industrial waste and chemical hazards weren’t actively trying to kill people, and for the potential presence of the Mandalorians alone, Chandrila was likely to be the most complicated mission they had undertaken. For that reason the Foundation had determined they were likely to require a more forceful intervention than any they had launched in the past. Not only had they decided to dispatch a larger squadron than normal, but they had taken the unprecedented step of requesting the assistance of the Jedi Order.

 

Two pristine-white Star Destroyers popped out of hyperspace within high Chandrilan orbit--one an ancient Venator-class that continued its service as an armored flight deck, and a comparatively newer Victory-class that had been converted to a massive spacefaring hospital. The hulls of the two vessels seemed to glitter as they descended into orbit--closer inspection would reveal that the effect was not an unusual paint-job of Star Destroyer White but the engines and running lights of dozens of freighters and smaller vessels launched for the first hours of the intervention. 

 

The Venator-class Martyriai, flagship of the squadron, took up a geosynchronous position in Chandrila’s orbit, forcibly positioning the great bulk of the converted warship in the debris ring that circled Chandrila to protect her shuttles. Numerous pinpricks of sparks and minor explosions could be seen against the maroon-and-white hull of the carrier as the smaller pieces of debris glanced off of her shields. Only slightly smaller than Martyriai, a Victory-class Star Destroyer stabbed into the void cast by her shadow. Organa, a derelict warship that had been converted to a kilometer-long hospital and stores-ship, began to dispatch shuttles in search for a suitable landing strip that could support her bulk. Even a kilometer-long strip of duracrete that was free of debris would suffice.

 

The answer to this initial survey, after several sensor-laden freighters combed the outskirts of Hanna City, was that there were none.

 

And so the list of complications grew one entry longer.

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The small fleet of concentrated Jedi ships slipped from hyperspace with ease. The Survivor’s Foundation had already been on site of the devastated world for days, setting up camps to dole out all manner of aid to the throngs of offworld refugees, beginning the lengthy process of surveying and preparing to rebuild homes and businesses, taking samples of devastated soils, poisoned plant life, and wildlife that could be found, and much much more. Annals of history needed poured over, the galaxy needed scoured for plants and wildlife that could be brought in to rebuild the fallen world, and an exploding populace of locals and refugees alike needed housing and livelihoods rebuilt.

 

Leena stood on the bridge of the ship, her jaw set in a look of grim determination that offset her warm compassionate eyes. Looking out across the quickly growing planet and fleet before them, she inhaled deeply. This would not be another disaster; not like Mon Cal. She was a Jedi, as a Jedi there were certain expectations that were had of her, and she had expectations of herself.

 

The Jedi had sent a team of healers to assist the medical professionals from all edges of the galaxy that made up the Survivor’s Foundation; between them all, hopefully they could bring relief and hope to the people and the world of Chandrila.

 

As the smaller sized Jedi ships began to touch down on the surface, Leena was one of the first to bound off the ship, her inner light and excitement threatening to burst the seams of her calm exterior facade that she expected all Jedi were expected to carry themselves with. With a deep breath, Leena took in the chaos of the world. Desperation, fear, chaos, it was all there; but in the midst of it, on the backs of the Foundation and the Jedi, there was hope.

 

Exhaling, Leena turned to a passing crewman who was disembarking. “You. Let’s get the supplies offloaded and get to work helping. Once we get started with that, I need all the healers who have come along to rendezvous with me at the mobile hospital complex at the edge of Hanna City.”  

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After I had gotten myself settled in, I felt the shift to hyperspace sway beneath my feet, my gaze turning toward the departing Mon Calamari. Once again, I was left to my own devices and my own mind. It was a bittersweet moment, the tranquility of being in solitude versus the absence of inner peace. I often wondered how Jedi were capable of dealing with such issues on a regular basis, but my own inexperience was unable to fathom any possibilities. I just kept telling myself that it would come in time.

 

With the subtle whirling of the engines, I departed my room for the mess hall, wandering about a bit until I finally located it, giving myself time to think and ponder on the mission ahead. It felt like a simple task, one that would fit me perfectly after the constant harassment of facing the darkness of the Universe, and I needed to see the healing after the battles to truly understand what it meant to be a Jedi. Only then could I truly face Master Armiena as one. Or at least, in this moment, I felt it so. I needed to see the light amidst the darkness, not simply be it.

 

After forcing a meal into my malnutritioned form, feeling the bloating of a slightly overstuffed stomach and the queeziness that followed, I began to walk around and familiarize myself with the ship, learning the aft and port sections, learning my room's location and the bridge, and just casually strolling. Before I knew it, I felt the shift of hyperspace into real space and watched the hustle of our arrival begin. I took in the moment of order, watching every being rush to their stations, some having gazed like my very own while others were firm and clear. It really placed a perspective for me to follow and learn, placing their own burdens aside for those of others. And so I continued on.

 

Chandrila was unlike anything I had seen, the destruction not like Coruscant, but almost as devastating. The entire world seemed to weep, and I could feel it's cry even before I stepped foot upon it's surface. It ached so deeply in my heart that I hid the tears that my own eye shed. But even now as I stood upon it's surface, saw the devastation, saw the plight of it's people, I wept freely. It was as if I could feel their pain, anger, and sorrow washing over me in waves. 

 

Standing atop a peak overlooking Hanna City, I wiped away my tears. It would be a long road of healing for both of us, but I was here for it as much as it was for me.

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Kirlocca took a full moment to stand on top of the landing ramp and let the salt water air hit his nostrils. He could almost immediately remember everything about the last time he was here. There was worry about Dahar at the time from many Jedi, who Kirlocca had to help calm and reassure them that he would be able to handle the Grandmaster at the time and help him in his shortcomings. It was also on the tails of Empress Raven asking for Jedi support, to which at the time, the Wookiee felt like it was a great importance to lend the aid and help mend and create a bridge between the two. The air was sweet then. It no longer presented anything other than saltiness from the ocean that Hanna City sat on the very shores of. He took a few glances around to observe everything that was before him. The damage, the recovery efforts, which were very slow going at best. There was still a massive amounts of damage being recovered and people who were injured during the strike from the Mandalorians when they struck the city. 

 

His eyes then turned towards the two Jedi whom he came along with. The Mon Calamari healer, Leena was quick to put her aid out to those in need. The other, Armiena's apprentice Genesis on the outside was slow and steady in his movements, doing his best to remain a presence of hope, his Force presence was all full of sadness and other emotions that echoed strongly within the Force. Deciding to let the young man be, Kirlocca stood and watched him depart towards other aspects of Hanna City. Only after the boy departed from his sight is when Kirlocca began to walk the main long bridge that connected the port to the city. It was covered in rubble and debris and were just simply pushed to the side. As he walked, he could feel the many eyes look at him, as a Wookiee was a rare sight recently, as his own species have now begun to withdraw to their own planet and work on protecting it and rebuilding against a potential Sith Empire onslaught. To add to the fact that he was dressed in typical Jedi clothing for the moment, it made him a standout as who he was, as Jedi Wookiee's were even rarer to see. They all knew he was. 

 

As he walked into the city, a man looked directly at him and spoke up. "You Jedi, better late than never. We could use help on the healing front along with rebuilding our defenses since none of you seem to want to be around when we're hit." Kirlocca offered up a smile to the man, who clearly did not understand the purpose of the Jedi being there. But then again, he felt like many Jedi would not understand the purpose of themselves being on the planet either. Healing, yes. Defenses, no. 

 

<< Your defenses are not a priority. My other Jedi friends can handle healing and recovery. I'm here to help with a far more important recovery aspect. >> 

 

The man was confused and held no attempt to hide it. "What do you mean the defenses aren't a priority? What could possibly be a bigger issue to worry about?"  Kirlocca slowly walked past the man and stood in a way that suggested that he join him. As the man slowly did, Kirlocca lifted a paw towards a ruined building.

 

<< Do you know that every time I have come here before I would sit at that shop and have some caf. The last time I was here I suggested a friend try out that shop's food spices. When I first came here, a friend had told me of the many beautiful designs of jewelry and clothing that could be bought here.  >> 

 

Still slightly confused, the man looked at the Wookiee with a strong inquisitive look upon his face. At the look, Kirlocca let out a long heavy breath. 

 

<< Your markets are what make Chandrila famous. Worth coming to. The arts, the books and history. The tourism. Why would anyone want to come to a place that has strong defense if it has nothing else to offer? That is the priority for you to recover.  >>

Edited by Wookiee Jedi
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