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Coruscant (Part 2): Echoes from the Past
🕑 Added 2025-01-28 22:59:22 +0000 UTCOnce we finished our caf, Senator Mon Mothma informed me that she was due to head to the Senate, but that first she planned to make a brief stop at the antique store she regularly frequented to return an item. Her tone was calm, but there was something in her manner of speaking that suggested this detour was not just a matter of routine.
It wasn't long before we were ready to leave. I put my hood back on, again hiding my face, and we headed for the car. The senator took a seat in the back, while I chose the passenger seat. From there I had a privileged view: I could observe both the driver and the surroundings. This place gave me a tactical advantage in case something was out of the ordinary, and I could keep a closer eye on the driver. Although I had no conclusive evidence that he was a threat, I was not about to let my guard down.
The ride was uneventful, and the minutes passed quickly as the vehicle glided through the skies of Coruscant. The city always had that imposing air, with its tall buildings and constant bustle, but I kept my attention divided between the driver, passersby, and possible escape routes. Finally, the car veered slightly off the road toward the Senate and we stopped in front of the antique store.
The place was small but cozy, with a facade decorated in warm tones and elegant signs advertising its unique items. As soon as we stepped out of the vehicle, we were greeted almost immediately by the staff.
The first to approach was who appeared to be the owner of the shop, a human male between 50 and 60 years old. He had a slim, medium-tall build, although this was overshadowed by the extravagant clothing he wore. His clothing, a mix of bright hues and elaborate cuts, seemed a more appropriate choice for someone looking to impress than for a simple shopkeeper. What caught my attention most, however, was not his attire, but his demeanor. Although his interaction with the senator denoted confidence and familiarity, I could sense that his emotions toward me were tinged with distrust and wariness.
Next to him was a woman, also human, of average height. Her light brown hair neatly pulled back in a ponytail and she wore a dark robe that seemed less extravagant but just as careful. Unlike the owner, his attitude was more reserved, but I still detected a slight suspicion in his mannerisms.
Both seemed to act overly calm, as if they were trying to hide something. I tried to read past their expressions, looking for signs of intent or danger, but their faces were surprisingly neutral. It was clear that they were both more than they appeared, though for now I had no way of confirming my suspicions.
I watched the senator out of the corner of my eye as she interacted with the owner. Her expression remained calm, even cordial, and she showed no signs of discomfort or unease. That was my cue to remain calm, though without letting my guard down.
“I should've called. We're on our way to the Senate, I realized we'd be passing by.” Mon Mothma said as she entered the premises with a small package in her hand. Her tone was casual, as if she was trying to downplay our visit.
“Perrin likes it, but I'm just not sure he loves it.” She added, referring to the object she was carrying.
“Well, in that case I have other options available that might seem more appropriate for you. Please follow me.” Replied the salesman, with a calculated smile as he guided the senator towards the back of the store.
Noticing that she was walking away, I set out to follow her closely, but before I could take a step, the other employee stepped in my way. Her gesture was deliberate, and although her expression remained polite, I couldn't help but notice an air of intent behind her actions.
“The election is a complicated process, requiring privacy and patience. Wait for her here, and while you're at it, take a look around; we recently had some antique kalikori arrive that you might be interested in.” The employee said, pointing to a nearby area of the shop.
I found her attitude suspicious. Blocking my way seemed unnecessary, especially considering that my presence was to protect the senator. However, as I extended my senses through the Force, I detected no signs of danger coming from the area where Mon Mothma was. Her emotions remained serene, with no trace of fear or discomfort, which led me to think that this gesture was probably only meant to give her some privacy.
Nevertheless, I kept my posture alert. If something were to happen, the distance between us was negligible; he could reach the room in less than a second. For now, I decided to follow the clerk's advice and examine the section of the kalikori she had mentioned.
As I walked away from the back door, my mind was still working. Were these people simple shopkeepers, or was there something more behind their actions? One thing was certain: I would leave nothing to chance.
---
“Was this you?” Mon Mothma asked as soon as they were in the back room. Her usual diplomatic smile disappeared almost instantly, giving way to an expression of seriousness laden with reproach.
Luthen, who was checking a small device in his hand, looked up. His face reflected not surprise, but a measured, almost rehearsed wariness.
“What do you mean? And, who is the new face?” He replied with apparent disinterest, without looking away from the object he held.
“The garrison. Aldhani.” She clarified, her tone sterner, her words falling like a weight in the air.
Luthen raised his eyebrows and feigned surprise. “Ah! Is it true?” He asked, adopting an air of disbelief so exaggerated it was obvious he was acting.
“Don't play the fool with me, Luthen,” Mon Mothma replied with irritation. “I've been worried you might do something like this.”
“How I wish I had.” He replied, without losing his composure.
“I don't believe you.”
“Well, you'll have to try harder.” Luthen replied with a mocking tone that made the senator frown.
“Don't you dare talk to me like that.” She said, letting out her frustration.
Luthen cocked his head to one side, visibly impatient. “I think I've already told you.... Revolutions are expensive.”
“And I told you, I'm doing everything I can.” Replied Mon Mothma, her voice more controlled, trying to regain her diplomatic posture.
He laughed softly, but humorlessly, and his words came as a shock. “Your 'everything' seemed to be all about bringing in a savior to access your family funds.”
Mon Mothma blinked, surprised that he knew about her recent efforts. But before she could respond, Luthen continued:
“And besides...” he added, with a gesture toward the glass separating the back room from the rest of the store, where Galen stood motionless, attentive, while Kleya seemed to be showing him a collection of ancient artifacts. “You added another new face. I believe I had already explained to you the risk of new faces, but you seem to think you know better.”
Mon Mothma looked down, uncomfortable. There was something in his tone, something in the truth of his words, that made her feel vulnerable.
“You left me no choice, Luthen,” she finally replied, raising her head and crossing her arms in a defensive gesture. “Do you have any idea what you've done? With the attack on Aldhani, the Empire has become more paranoid than usual. They watch every-movement of-the-whole-world.” He remarked each word carefully, emphasizing the magnitude of his concern. “You left me no choice.”
“I warned you when we started.” Luthen replied coolly.
“You told me we were building a network-”
“What were my words?” he interrupted her, his tone curt. “Turning back will be impossible. You knew where this was going. You've always known.”
Mon Mothma was silent. As much as she wanted to argue, she knew that, deep down, Luthen was right. From the beginning she had understood the implications of a move like this, though she never wanted to fully admit it.
Luthen, noting her hesitation, smiled with an air of triumph before blurting out a sarcasm-laden question. “So, who's the new guy, did you finally get tired of Perrin?”
The comment made Mon Mothma blush slightly, but she didn't lose her composure. “Don't be foolish. He's my bodyguard.”
“A bodyguard? Really? And where did you get him from, may I ask?”
“Yes, really,” she replied firmly. “Bail Organa got him for me. Besides, I already told you, I don't feel safe. And now, with the P.O.R.D. (Public Order Resentencing Directive), even less so. One false move and me and my family will end up, at best, serving life sentence in an Outer Rim prison.”
“Exactly!” exclaimed Luthen, with an enthusiasm that seemed almost misplaced. “We need it. We need the fear. We need them to overreact.” He turned, his back to the senator, as his voice took on a more impassioned tone. “The Empire has been choking us so slowly, we're starting not to notice. The time has come to force their hand.”
“People will suffer.” Mon Mothma replied, her voice laden with concern.
“That's the plan,” Luthen replied without a hint of remorse. He turned to look directly at her. “You're not angry at me. I'm just saying out loud what you already know. There will be no rules going forward. If you're not willing to risk your conscience, then surrender and be done with it.”
Luthen's words were brutal, but also raw and sincere. Mon Mothma was silent for a few moments, taking in what she had just heard. When she finally responded, her expression had hardened, and her diplomatic smile had returned to her face, though it now seemed more like a mask than a real expression.
“Then we're done here.” She said, her tone cold and calculated as she turned to leave the back room.
---
While the senator and the owner talked privately in the back, the only female employee in the place took it upon herself to guide me through the store. She introduced herself as Kleya, with a friendly, professional tone, though I couldn't help but sense a slight tension in her voice, as if her hospitality was a calculated facade.
She began to show me the various displays, a tour that, frankly, seemed unnecessary to me. Even with what Bail Organa is paying me, buying anything in a place like this would be practically impossible. The pieces seemed more intended for eccentric collectors and aristocrats than someone like me.
For that reason, I spent most of the tour in silence, walking behind Kleya as she narrated in detail the history of each artifact, weapon or armor on display. Occasionally, I would nod slightly so she would think I was paying attention, though my mind was elsewhere, calculating every move of everyone else in the store.
However, everything changed when we came to a suit of armor that managed to capture my attention immediately. It was imposing, with a design that seemed laden with history and meaning. Kleya, noticing my sudden interest, reacted instantly, her tone of voice changing to a more enthusiastic one as she began to explain its origin.
“This armor,” she said with a mixture of reverence and excitement, ”belonged to Tarre Vizsla, the only Mandalorian to be accepted into the Jedi Order, over a thousand years ago. It was painstakingly restored to its original state.”
Kleya's words echoed in my mind, but it wasn't them that had me immobile in front of the armor. It was something deeper, almost visceral. Something about that armor felt familiar, as if I had seen it before. And then I remembered: it was identical to the one that appeared in my vision in the cabin.
It was more than a coincidence, of that I was sure. Something inside me seemed to be calling me to her, like a distant echo that I couldn't ignore. And that's when I made a decision I didn't even know I was considering.
“How much is worth this?” I asked out of the blue, my voice breaking the silence. The surprise on Kleya's face was evident, she clearly didn't expect me to show so much interest in such a valuable piece. Before she could respond, the door to the back opened, and the senator and the shop owner returned to the main area.
The smile on the senator's face was diplomatic, but her eyes betrayed a slight discomfort. Something in that meeting had not gone as she had hoped.
“I'm afraid I won't be taking either of these pieces this morning.” She stated politely, though her tone denoted subtle frustration.
The owner of the shop let out a brief laugh, seemingly indifferent. “I'll have some new things coming in very, very son.” He replied enthusiastically.
“I'll be sure to come by.” Replied the senator as she headed for the door, implying it was time to go.
Seizing the moment, I turned to Kleya and pulled a small packet from my belt. “Okay, Kleya, have this,” I said, handing her 20,000 credits. It was a large sum, part of the first payment Bail Organa had made to me, but I felt it was worth the risk. “I trust this will serve as a token. I will return another day for it. Don't sell it.”
Kleya looked at me with surprise, though her reaction was brief. She regained her composure quickly and nodded, keeping the credits discreetly.
“Always at your service, Senator.” Said the owner, giving a brief laugh as he dismissed us with a polite wave.
I followed the senator to the exit, where the chauffeur was already waiting for us. He opened the back door for her with almost mechanical precision, and the senator entered without a word. I made my way to the passenger seat, making sure I could observe both the chauffeur and the surroundings as the vehicle rose into the busy skies of Coruscant.
As we plunged through the endless traffic of the galactic capital, my mind remained fixed on the armor. There was something else behind that piece, something I couldn't explain, but which I felt I was destined to have.
Comments
Orion Chung
I feel Galen is walking the same path as Revan , both walks down the path of Grey Jedi , both having Mandalorian armor, Dual welders, and both r Powerful in Force, no doubt even Kreia will admit that she see a shadow of Revan in Galen
