There was no other way to put it - Felucia had been a disaster.
Widase had deemed it a bungled invasion from the start. Felucia had, he found himself constantly repeating, joined the Sith Empire peacefully. And while it was a target of strategic value to an army during a war, it was of next to no value for the humdrum groups of militias and Jedi that found themselves fighting in an ever-escalating border skirmish. Then, instead of occupying the world after they had taken it, they put it's fate to a vote. A vote! Who in their right mind would ever vote for the person that bombed you, killed your family, destroyed the government you desired? It had all the markings of a war led by politicians, rather than soldiers; a dangerous game to play against the Sith, who dealt very clearly in matters of war.
Luckily, thanks to enterprising arms dealers and gray market investors, other options existed. Widase's personal ship, an old CCM-220 Freighter, pulled into port at the stardock of Canto Hyperspace Distributors. The irony of the moment did not escape him: The business of gray market arms shipping had practically exploded after his colleague Senator Starros pushed for the legislation in Senate. Many of the weapons companies of the galaxy wanted to continue to play both sides of the war, sell to any who would buy; the embargo made it slightly more challenging to sell to Sith. But companies like CHD were effective middlemen to override the law; with enough credits, practically anything was legal.
CHD's growth was fortuitous, then. Just as they sold to Sith so fragrantly, they would move weapons and armaments to anyone with the credits to push. Such money was not easy to come by, even through a powerful nation's secretive military budget. So Widase, ever the charmer, had volunteered to his superiors to oversee this mission in person, with his own family's ship. A personal touch for a more sensitive conversation.
Widase disembarked his ship, fastening his black gloves onto his uniform before stepping into the white halls of the space station. He was reminded of his recent conversation with the Jedi Grandmaster; he had warned her that, now, the gloves were off. He glanced at his hands - cloaked in a heavy, black leather. Proverbially off, of course.
Total war was on the horizon. And, by any means, he would protect Dac's shining shores from invasion.
@Sreeya