Eternal Father
He traveled in solitude, sequestered within the innermost sanctum of the Crestfallen. The ship had departed from Jutrand shortly after the meeting with Darth Empyrean and his heckling jackals had concluded, the rest of the Kainate flotilla ordered to travel in the northern sectors of the galaxy to rendezvous with Darth Xyrah . He'd meet up with them soon enough, they'd lay the foundation for Project: Reclamation in His absence. But, for now, He had some other business to attend to in the southern most spiral arm of the galaxy.
To meet an old acquaintance.
The ship exited hyperspace above a world wreathed in metal and flames, belching columns of smoke rising high into the upper atmosphere. They blanketed the whole world in a wreath of smog, great pollutants that bore down acid rain and metallic hail at chaotic intervals. Nonetheless, His ship dipped down through the darkness, passing through and leveling out above a massive globe-encompassing city. It was not like the glittering glamour of Coruscant, but a raw industrial hellscape where untold masses toiled at the behest of cruel taskmasters, where elite soldiers were equipped and trained for war, and where foul abominations stirred within pools of viscus sludge.
Two ships rose up from blow to flank the Dark Lord's vessel, cutters cobbled together from ill-fitting scraps of metal trudging forwards on propulsors spitting black smoke. Despite their crude construction, they were able to match the Crestfallen's frequency and hail the craft. In garbled voices distorted by cybernetics, they inquired about His purpose and destination. That there was even a protocol on this dismal world for unscheduled arrivals was perplexing, but not wholly unexpected. He answered their questions as they came, with short and concise responses.
For a time, there was only silence. Then, the two ships peeled away, allowing the shuttle to continue its approach to the large tetrahedral structure jutting up from the cityscape like a grotesque tumor. He brought the ship in slow, gently landing on a platform protruding from the structure's sloping edifice. The boarding ramp lowered to the ground, hydraulic fog condensing around the platform as the gears turned and pistons whirred. He descended the ramp a moment later, black cloak billowing at His back as brutally scalding air whipped across the platform.
It would have been discomforting to many, but the Dark Lord found that He was above such trivialities. Even so, His hood had been drawn up before He left, shielding His face from the worse of the gusts. He walked towards the structure, upon which a large door had been set. He would continue onward, preparing to meet the delegation sent to receive Him when they did.
It was not proper to keep the Dark Lord of the Sith waiting.