Mission stood frozen for a long moment after the airlock sealed. The hiss of pressurization fading into silence.

He was gone.

Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs. She forced herself to take a slow breath, but it did nothing to steady the storm inside her.

She shouldn't have kissed him.

She really, really shouldn't have kissed him.

Her fingers curled into fists, nails pressing into her palms. She had been doing so well. Keeping things distant, keeping walls up, keeping him from realizing just how much space he took up inside her head.

But one moment of fear, and she let everything slip.

She clenched her jaw and forced herself to turn away from the airlock, to pretend it hadn't happened. To ignore the way her lips still tingled from the kiss. To ignore the gnawing terror that he might not come back.

"He'll be fine." Bastila's voice cut through the silence, steady and sure. "Seth is resourceful. He'll find the Star Map, and he'll return."

Mission whirled on her. "You don't know that."

Bastila blinked, surprised at the sharpness in her tone. "I know Seth. He doesn't lose easily."

Mission swallowed hard, glancing at the viewport overlooking the dark abyss. "No, he doesn't. But this isn't a cantina brawl, Bastila. It's the ocean. It doesn't care how good he is. If something goes wrong, we won't even know. We won't hear it. We won't see it. He'll just be—" She cut herself off, arms crossing tightly over her chest. "Gone."

Bastila studied her for a moment, then sighed. "You're not wrong. The risk is real. But Seth has always defied impossible odds. He'll come back."

Mission wanted to believe that. But belief didn't stop the cold knot in her stomach.

Canderous, leaning casually against a crate, scoffed. "If anyone should be worried, it's the fish."

Mission glared at him. "Not helping."

He shrugged. "Just saying. Kid's a survivor. You know that better than anyone."

She did. That was the worst part. Seth always survived. And yet—

The thought of losing him, of having to move on without him, made something deep inside her twist painfully.

She exhaled, shaking her head. "We should just focus on waiting for his signal."

"Agreed." Bastila took a step back, eyeing her carefully. "And Mission?"

Mission hesitated. "Yeah?"

The Jedi offered a small, knowing smile. "Try not to be too mad at him when he gets back."

Mission opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out.

She sighed dramatically and dropped into a seat. "No promises."

Canderous chuckled. "Better start planning your next argument, then."

Mission groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "This is gonna be the longest wait of my life."

The three of them fell into silence, eyes flickering toward the viewport, toward the endless black where Seth had disappeared.

Waiting. Hoping.

The ocean swallowed him whole.

A heavy press of silence, thick and absolute. No wind, no distant hum of the Ebon Hawk's engines, no laughter from the crew. Nothing. Just the rhythmic pull of his breath inside the helmet, the slow, mechanical hiss of the suit's oxygen flow.

Seth took a careful step forward. The weighted soles of his boots struck the catwalk with a dull thud, muted by the miles of water pressing down from above. Another step. Slower this time. The suit restricted his movement—walking through the abyss was like wading through syrup.

He focused on his breathing. Long, deep inhales. If he took short, shallow breaths, he'd pass out before he ever reached the other side. Breathe in. Count four. Breathe out. Count four.

The only thing keeping him from floating away into the dark was the cold metal beneath his feet. But that felt like an illusion. If the suit failed, if anything went wrong, the ocean wouldn't hesitate. It would take him, drag him into its belly, and never let him go.

He pushed the thought away.

One step at a time.

The facility loomed ahead, a distant shape in the murky blue. It looked close. It wasn't. Every movement took five times the effort. The catwalk stretched endlessly, a vast, skeletal frame of metal suspended in the deep, with nothing but black void surrounding it. If he fell, there was no climbing back up.

Something creaked.

Seth froze.

It was distant. Low. A deep, reverberating groan that didn't belong to the station. It belonged to something alive. He turned his head, scanning the abyss beyond the catwalk. Nothing. Just the endless blue haze, fading into darkness.

He inhaled slowly. Don't panic. Don't think about what else is down here.

Another step forward. Then another. Count four.

Something moved.

A shadow, deep beneath him. Big. Too big.

Seth stopped breathing for a second. Did it see him? He reached out through the Force, feeling his presence stretch outward, wrapping itself in the ocean's pulse. The water was alive—the movement of currents, the flickers of smaller creatures darting through unseen crevices. But there was something else.

Something watching.

The shadow shifted, slow and deliberate, moving in a wide, circling arc. Not aggressive. Not yet. Just… observing. Waiting.

Seth swallowed hard, willing his heartbeat to slow. He needed to keep moving.

Step. One. Two. Three. Four.

The station was getting closer, but so was the thing beneath him. He could feel its curiosity turning into something else. Recognition. Interest. Hunger.

Another groan, closer this time.

Seth exhaled sharply and focused ahead. He wasn't stopping now.

One step at a time. Just keep walking.

Mission shuffled her cards for the third time.

Her hands moved automatically, flicking the deck between her fingers, cycling through the well-worn pieces of flimsi. But she wasn't looking at them. She wasn't really here.

She knew she needed to focus. She needed a distraction—something to occupy her mind. But her thoughts kept slipping back to the same place.

The airlock. The helmet. The way Seth had looked at her before stepping into the deep.

Mission pressed her lips together and drew a card. Twenty-four. Too high. A bust. She barely noticed.

It had been twenty minutes since he left. Maybe longer. Not that she was counting.

She tossed the card down and reached for the deck again, but her hands stilled when she realized she was holding them too tightly.

Force, Mission. Get a grip.

She let out a sharp exhale and tried—really tried—to pull her mind away from him. It was stupid. She had been through this before. She wasn't supposed to care this much. Not like this. Not in a way that made her chest feel tight and her skin buzz with restless energy.

But she did. She hated herself for it.

Mission wiped her hands on her pants and reached for another card. She needed to stop thinking. Just one more round. Just one more game.

She didn't hear Bastila approach until the Jedi's voice broke the silence.

"Is that Pazaak?"

Mission blinked up at her, startled. Bastila was standing there, arms crossed, looking at the scattered cards like they were some foreign artifact.

"Yeah?" Mission said slowly, narrowing her eyes. "You've seriously never played before?"

Bastila hesitated, then exhaled. "I've always meant to learn. But circumstances never—"

"Sit." Mission cut her off, gesturing to the spot across from her before she could change her mind. Because, honestly? This was weird.

Bastila hesitated again, as if considering whether or not this was a mistake, then slowly lowered herself to the floor.

Mission grabbed Seth's side deck from the knapsack he'd left behind. She hesitated for a second, running her fingers over the worn edges of his cards before passing them across.

"You'll need your own side-deck eventually," she muttered, clearing her throat. "But for now, I guess you can use his."

Bastila accepted the cards without comment.

They played in silence for a few minutes. Mission taught her the basics, explained how to use the side deck, and walked her through the first round. Bastila caught on fast. Of course she did. She was Bastila Shan. She was good at everything.

But then she busted twice in a row, and Mission saw the tiniest flash of frustration in her expression.

"Blast it," Bastila muttered under her breath.

Mission smirked. "Gonna start using the Force to cheat?"

Bastila shot her a look. "That would be unethical."

"You didn't say no."

Bastila sighed through her nose but didn't argue. Instead, she studied Mission carefully before speaking again.

"Seth thinks highly of you, you know."

Mission almost dropped her deck.

"What?"

"He trusts you," Bastila continued, drawing another card. "He relies on you. And given how much he keeps to himself, that's… rare."

Mission didn't know how to respond.

She cleared her throat. "That supposed to be a compliment?"

Bastila smirked slightly. "Yes, I suppose it is."

Mission flipped a card absentmindedly, trying to ignore the way her heart felt like it was twisting in her chest.

They played in silence for another round.

And for the first time since Seth had left, Mission had no trouble focusing on the cards.

The transition from endless ocean to enclosed airlock was jarring.

One moment, Seth was facing death in the deep, nothing but water pressing in on all sides. The next, he was standing in the airlock chamber, watching the water drain away in violent torrents, his boots clanking against the metal floor as gravity fully reclaimed him.

The moment the pressure equalized, he ripped off his helmet, sucking in a breath of real, open air. It tasted stale, processed, metallic. But it was air, and it wasn't filtered through a vocoder. That was good enough.

A second door slid open with a hiss, revealing a dimly lit hallway—and a shimmering energy shield at the far end.

Seth barely had time to process it before he felt it—two people, close, anxious. Watching.

He turned his head just in time to see a man crouched behind a crate, pulse hammering like a trapped animal. A woman stood beside him, tense but measuring him carefully.

"Kono!" she whispered, nudging him urgently with her boot. "Kono, he's human."

The man—Kono, apparently—didn't move at first. His arms were locked tightly across his chest, eyes scanning Seth from head to toe. Then, slowly, he stood, stepping closer to the energy shield.

"Who are you?" Kono demanded, attempting authority—but the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

Seth exhaled, running a gloved hand through damp hair. "Name's Seth Avery. Republic sent me."

That got a reaction. The woman—Sami—straightened, stepping toward the shield with something close to hope.

"You're a soldier?" she asked quickly. "You must be, if you survived the Selkath."

Seth almost laughed. He was too exhausted for the full version of that answer.

"Something like that." He shrugged. "Trained on Coruscant, served in the fleet, but I'm a Jedi now. So…" He tilted his head. "Half-soldier, half-Jedi? Does that help?"

Kono's eyes narrowed immediately. "You're a Jedi?"

Sami, however, latched onto that instantly. "That's perfect. He can help, Kono. He already got past the Selkath—he could be exactly what we need."

Kono's scowl deepened. "Don't be ridiculous. That thing is still out there, and I doubt even a Jedi can get close enough to deal with it." He waved a dismissive hand. "He's a kid."

Seth's jaw clenched.

He cleared his throat loudly. "You guys do know I can hear you, right?"

Kono didn't seem to care. Sami, at least, looked vaguely apologetic.

"Could we also lower the shield?" Seth asked dryly. "Or are we just gonna stand here and have a debate through it?"

Kono hesitated, then huffed a sigh. With obvious reluctance, he turned and pressed a few keys on the console nearby.

The shield flickered, then disappeared.

Seth stepped forward, rubbing his arms instinctively. He hadn't realized how much the energy field's hum had pressed against his skull until it was gone.

"Alright," he said, crossing his arms. "Now someone want to tell me what exactly I'm supposed to be 'dealing with'?"

Sami glanced at Kono before turning back to Seth. "It's… a long story."

Seth lifted a brow. "I just walked through the bottom of the ocean in a tin can and played mind games with a shark the size of a starfighter. Pretty sure I can handle 'long.'"

That, at least, got a ghost of a smile from Sami. Kono, predictably, remained unimpressed.

Sami exhaled. "Alright. Here's the short version."

She stepped closer, arms folding across her chest, her voice lowering slightly as she spoke.

"Over the past few years, our scientists have been working on a kolto harvester—a way to bypass Manaan's trade restrictions and ship larger quantities of kolto to the front lines. It's… technically illegal, but necessary. The Selkath who worked with us understood that—some of them, anyway."

Seth nodded. He had already figured something like that was going on.

Sami continued. "The problem is, we started digging too deep. We uncovered something on the ocean floor. Ruins. An alien structure. That's when everything started going wrong."

Seth's pulse jumped slightly.

The Star Map.

It had to be.

Kono finally spoke up, arms tightening. "We thought it was just an archaeological find at first. But then… the firaxa started acting differently."

Seth frowned. "Differently how?"

"Their behavior changed," Sami said. "At first, it was subtle. Then it escalated. Attacks became more frequent. Then, one day, the largest of them—their alpha—let out this horrible sound. We don't know how to describe it. It wasn't just a noise, it was… something felt. And after that…" She swallowed. "The Selkath went mad. Every single one of them. They slaughtered our team. They turned into animals."

Seth exhaled sharply. The same mind effect he had just felt in the ocean.

But it wasn't the Star Map. It wasn't some ancient corruption infecting the firaxa. It was something else entirely.

The mother of the brood. The one that had ruled these waters long before the Republic ever came.

The harvester had disturbed her. She wasn't attacking out of malice. She was unsettled, restless, and her distress was rippling outward, infecting everything around her. The Selkath. The smaller firaxa. Even the ocean itself felt on edge.

"We barely made it out," Sami continued. "And the firaxa… it's still down there, right in your path. If you need to reach those ruins, you'll have to get past it."

Kono scoffed. "Good luck with that."

Seth rolled his shoulders, straightening slightly. "What are my options?"

Sami and Kono exchanged a look.

"We came up with two ideas," Sami said carefully. "The first is the more… obvious one. We still have a poison canister meant to deal with the firaxa, one strong enough to kill it and disperse before it affects the kolto."

Seth's stomach turned immediately.

Poison it. Kill it.

He didn't realize how strongly he hated the idea until the words were out.

"What's the second option?" he asked, forcing his voice to stay neutral.

Sami hesitated. "We think the firaxa might be reacting to the kolto harvester itself. If we destroy it, we might be able to settle her."

Seth's jaw tightened.

That was the riskier option. It wouldn't guarantee the firaxa would leave—but it also wouldn't kill it.

The poison, however, was a certainty.

Seth held out a hand. "Give me the canister. I'll decide what to do."

Kono looked satisfied. Sami, however, watched him carefully.

She handed it over, but her expression suggested she already knew what he was thinking. The Republic had spent years building this harvester. Their edge in the kolto trade. The only advantage they had over the Sith in this war.

He could save it—and kill the mother of all life on Manaan in the process.

Or he could destroy it.

Give her what she wanted.

And take that Republic advantage down with it.

Seth looked down at the canister. Small. Unassuming. Capable of erasing something ancient and powerful in seconds.

He didn't want to use it.

He was not going to use it.

He just had to hope he wouldn't regret that choice.

The ocean shifted around him.

Seth felt it before he saw it—a disturbance in the deep. Not the rhythmic pulse of the currents or the gentle drift of smaller sea life. This was different. A presence. A ripple that didn't fade.

He stopped walking. Stopped breathing.

Then, slowly, he turned his head.

And the abyss moved.

A shadow, impossibly vast, stirred within the depths below him. It was nearly imperceptible at first—a smudge against the already dark water, stretching too far, shifting too slow.

Then the shape solidified. Too big. Too close. Too aware.

Seth inhaled sharply, forcing himself to stay still, to fight the instinct to retreat. It hadn't attacked. Not yet. The suit's reinforced boots kept him anchored to the catwalk, but it no longer felt like security. It felt like entrapment.

The shadow moved again—not toward him, but around him.

Circling.

Seth reached out with the Force, casting his awareness beyond himself, pressing into the pulse of the ocean. The pressure of the deep wrapped around him, pressing against his ribs, his skull, his mind.

And then he felt it.

A mind, ancient and vast, brushing against his own. Not sentient in the way of humans or Selkath, but not mindless, either. It was instinct, hunger, territorial dominance, layered with something deeper.

It knew he was here.

It was deciding what to do about that.

Seth exhaled slowly, steadying himself. The firaxa wasn't attacking—not yet. It wasn't afraid of him. It wasn't anything toward him. He was a curiosity. A question. A thing to be tested.

The catwalk beneath his boots groaned softly, metal straining under the weight of time and water. The sound carried through the abyss, rippling outward.

Seth's breath hitched as the firaxa's massive form broke the distant haze of darkness. He could see her now, fully emerging from the deep, her body an impossible golden mass in the dark water. She was ancient, her thick scales reflecting the distant glow of the station's lights, her fins slicing through the abyss with terrifying ease.

Seth swallowed, his pulse hammering in his ears.

She wasn't like the other firaxa. She didn't move with frenzy, with bloodlust.

She moved with purpose.

Her eyes—black, endless voids—locked onto him.

And then she began to circle.

Seth held perfectly still, his muscles locked, his breathing slow and controlled. She wasn't attacking. Not yet.

She's waiting.

Testing him.

She had to know by now that he wasn't prey. But he was still a trespasser.

He reached into the Force, stretching his awareness outward, feeling the weight of the ocean pressing against him. He could sense her frustration, her agitation. It ran deep—not just her own distress, but the ripple of it affecting everything in these waters.

The Selkath. The other firaxa.

The entire ecosystem had been thrown into imbalance, all because of the Republic's machine.

The harvester.

It wasn't just stealing kolto. It was intruding. Polluting. Taking something that wasn't meant to be taken.

Seth could feel her decision forming before she even moved.

She was going to end the disturbance.

One way or another.

And right now? He was standing in her way.

She rushed forward.

Seth barely had time to react. He threw himself sideways, boots scraping against the catwalk, hands out as he braced for impact. The firaxa mother stopped just short, her massive head tilting slightly, watching him.

She wasn't trying to kill him.

She was giving him a warning.

Get out. Fix this. Or next time, I won't stop.

Seth's breath came hard and fast, but he forced himself to focus.

The harvester was still running in the distance, the low mechanical thrum of its engines vibrating through the water.

That was the problem.

That was what needed to be destroyed.

His fingers flexed against his side, brushing the canister of poison still strapped to his suit. The one Kono had given him.

The one he wasn't going to use.

Seth turned back to the firaxa, staring into those endless black eyes.

I understand now.

He reached a hand toward the harvester, his mind stretching outward, the Force surging through him.

He grabbed hold of the machinery, the weak points, the stress fractures along the frame.

And then—he pushed.

The harvester screamed as metal bent and twisted, the sound vibrating through the water as Seth crushed it from the inside out.

He felt the shift immediately.

The firaxa mother stilled.

Then, slowly, she moved past him—no longer circling, no longer aggressive.

She swam toward the broken harvester, giving it one final push with her massive body, sending the last of its shattered remains into the trench below.

The moment it disappeared, Seth felt the ocean calm.

The tension in the Force eased.

The firaxa mother lingered a second longer, then turned back to him. She watched him for one long, quiet moment.

Then, just like that, she was gone.

Seth let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His knees nearly buckled. His entire body felt like it had been wrung out. But he had done it. He had chosen to give back what had been stolen.

The ocean went quiet. Not in the suffocating, pressure-laden way it had been before. Not in the way that made his heart pound like a war drum.

This quiet was different.

The firaxa mother was gone. The harvester was destroyed. The ocean itself felt lighter. The weight in the Force had lifted—like the water had exhaled a breath it hadn't realized it was holding.

And Seth had done it.

He let himself feel that.

Victory.

The first real one. For the first time since setting foot on this planet, he wasn't running, or fighting, or barely holding it together. He had faced something colossal, something ancient, something powerful—and won. On his own.

Not with violence. Not with brute force. But by making the right choice.

A slow grin pulled at his lips.

He wasn't cocky enough to think that one moment made him a Jedi. But… he could see it now. What they saw in him. Maybe—just maybe—he could become what they believed he was meant to be.

His heart was still hammering as he turned toward the alien structure.

The Star Map, waiting for him.

Seth moved carefully, stepping onto the ocean floor, each step sinking slightly into the silt. The ruins loomed before him, jagged and untouched by time.

Then, as if sensing his presence, the structure began to pulse.

Not light. Not sound.

Something deeper.

Seth inhaled sharply as the Force rushed through him, a current stronger than the ocean itself. Images flickered in his mind—stars, distant worlds, paths half-formed and waiting to be completed.

He reached out. His gloved fingers brushed against the stone, and the map unfurled before him.

A brilliant display of constellations and connections ignited in the water, spreading outward, revealing the path ahead.

Planets. Routes. Pieces of something larger.

It was only a fragment. But it was the first.

The first true step toward uncovering the legacy of the Star Forge.

His breath came slow, steady, awestruck. For the first time, this felt real. This wasn't just a mission. Wasn't just another desperate gamble for survival. This was the beginning of something bigger. Seth exhaled, letting the moment settle in his bones.

Then, he pulled out his datapad and began the download.

A minute later, the Star Map dimmed, its task complete. The constellations faded, leaving only the monolithic ruins behind. The journey was far from over.

But this time, Seth didn't feel like the galaxy was running ahead of him. He had a direction. A purpose.

And now?

He had proof that they were going to win this.