Part 3: Coruscant ~ Chapter 2 - Getting Ready

“Elice’s Adventures in the Land of Wonder,” said Renora, eyeing her computer terminal. She and Giddy were crowded into Renora’s quarters, eating a small breakfast of protein compound and a nutrient shake, and taking advantage of the Padawan’s upgraded computer system.

“I was just about to say that,” Giddy commented dryly.

“You were?”

“Oh yes, I always do. It makes for more interesting conversation.”

“If you give me a second to explain it--”

“--then we’ll be here all day.”

“Last I checked, a second doesn’t last all day.”

“Your kind of second is the kind that lasts all day.”

Renora heaved a deeply dramatic sigh. “You wound me, my Master.”

“You’ll live. Now, Elice’s Adventures in the Wonderful Land is the name of the movie premiere Jepp’s going to be at?”

“See, this is exactly why I wanted to explain it. It’s called Elice’s Adventures in the Land of Wonder, and it’s about--”

“A girl named Elice who goes to a land of wonder?”

Taking a swig of her nutrient shake, Renora tapped a few keys on her console. “Should I assume you’ve seen the original film, or should I assume that you’ve contrived this summary from the self-explanatory title?”

“Never assume anything.”

“I was about to say that.”

“You were?” asked Giddy, crossing her arms.

“Oh yes, I always do. Makes for more interesting conversation.”

“You wound me, my Padawan.”

“That makes two of us.”

“What?” laughed Giddy. “Stop changing the subject and tell me about this premiere.”

“All right, let me see.” Renora scanned the computer screen, using her extensive memory and perceptiveness, honed with practice and the powers of the Force, to quickly scroll through large blocks of text. “The premiere is this afternoon at thirteen hundred hours, Coruscant time. It’s going to be about four hours long, give or take. Expect everybody who’s nobody to arrive early, and everybody who’s somebody to arrive late. That means that jerk Carth Jarrin and his Twi’lek “companion,” Delrayia, are going to show up three hours before it starts so they can pass out autographs like they’re drinking water, chat up their adoring fans, and strike embarrassing poses on the blue carpet so their pictures will as plastered as they are -- all over the Coruscant Daily, that is.”

“Is that what you’re reading?”

“No, that’s personal experience. War-seasoned, battle-hardened, combat-tested personal experience.”

“Years of it, I’m sure.”

“Decades.”

“Just the facts, please.”

“Yes, officer. My highly educated and soon-to-be-proven extremely accurate guess is that D’onny will be there at about thirteen thirty.”

“That’s only thirty minutes late. He’s not somebody enough to be as late as the real somebodies?”

“He’s somebody, all right. That’s why he can afford to get there at any time he wants, without having to look over his shoulder to see if they’re analyzing why he chose that precise hour, minute, second, millisecond, and femtosecond to arrive.”

“Femtosecond?”

“One to the power of fifteen.”

“I feel so enlightened.”

“And I feel so empowered by my ability to enlighten you.”

“Let’s talk about security,” said Giddy, her eyes half closed in concentration. Renora could never fathom her Master’s extraordinary ability to switch from weightless banter to dead seriousness faster than an X-Wing could make the jump to light speed. Perhaps it was an acquired skill. One that Renora had yet to acquire.

“Standard agency guards. But there’ll be a lot of them.”

“Each actor will have one?”

“Yeah, at least one. Let’s say we’ve got seven main holostars, with about five bodyguards each. And toss the director in there. So eight guys with five each. Approximately forty. I’d say seventy, just to be safe.”

“Seventy? Who do they think they’re protecting, the Emperor?”

“Last I checked, the Emperor doesn’t stand the risk of being trampled to death by a marauding stampede of screaming teenaged girls.”

“Jepp’s too old for teenaged girls.”

“So is the Emperor,” said Renora, flashing a grin.

“So am I,” sighed Giddy.

“There’s a teenaged girl after you?”

“There’s a teenaged girl after my nerves.”

Renora laughed, tossing the remains of her breakfast into the garbage shoot and brushing specks of food that managed to be both offending and invisible off her robes.

“Will you answer a question for the teenaged girl now?” she asked

“Only if she asks nicely.”

“I beseech you, my Master--”

“Now that’s going a bit far,” said Giddy, a smile crossing her lips.

“Really, Master. What are we going to do? Skip in there, bust up the premiere, and kidnap Jepp?”

“Padawan,” said Giddy, her Renora-directed gaze infused with perfect disapproval. “Did you really think that’s what we were going to do? Did you honestly believe that was the master plan?”

Faltering slightly, Renora replied, “Um…as a matter of fact, yes. I did.”

“Well, you’re wrong, my apprentice. We’re not going to do that at all.”

“We’re not?”

“No. You are. Alone.”

=========================

“Son of a karking murglak’s brother’s kriffing Twi’lek mother,” muttered Renora.

“Check your connection,” Giddy’s muffled voice ordered from the commlink embedded in Renora’s eardrum. “I’m getting some static on this end.”

“Ha ha, very funny, Master.”

“Do I detect some tension from you, Padawan?”

“Why, Master, whatever gave you that idea?”

“Look up.”

“What?” asked Renora.

“Look. Up.”

Renora looked up, as per Master Giddy’s instructions. An enclosed, four-seater speeder with a blaringly loud, frighteningly obnoxious red exterior passed directly overhead.

“Please tell me that’s not the getaway car,” murmured Renora.

“I’ll tell you, but it won’t be true.”

“Can I tell you how unwise that is?”

“You can tell me, but it won’t be true.”

“Can you tell me why?”

“No.”

Renora took a deep breath that was supposed to be calming, but ended up something like a strangled gasp. “Okay.”

“Are you ready?” asked Gidrea, managing to sound both urgent and reserved.’

“I’m ready.”

“Then go for it. You can reach me by comm, but keep the chatter to a minimum. We don’t want anyone to think you’re talking to yourself.”

“Right, right, they might think I’m crazy. Which I’m obviously not.”

Giddy had deposited her protesting Padawan within visual distance of the premiere, so that Renora could approach easily and without drawing the negative attentions of frenzied fans or stressed security officers. At about twelve hundred hours, an hour before the premiere event, the area was as organized, tranquil, and focused as a massacre. And as quiet, fragrant, and joyful as a battle.

Just as she had suspected, the presence of security personnel was visible but not oppressive. She touched the blue-uniformed sleeve of a young human man with blond, buzz-cut hair, and a smattering of pimples across his cheeks and ill-shaven chin. Definitely not a professional. This might be even easier than she and Giddy had planned.

“Excuse me, sir,” said Renora, beaming cheerfully. “Where’s the nearest ’fresher?”

“Right over there, ma’am,” said the officer, flashing a gap-toothed grin and pointing to Renora’s left.

“Thank you,” said Renora, turning away.

“Of course, ma’am. Uh, is this your first time at a premiere?”

“Be nice to him,” said Giddy. “Don’t tick him off.”

“No, actually, it isn’t. I’ve been to quite a few. I always make a point of attending one or two a year.”

“I said be nice, not show off,” Giddy grumbled.

“One or two a year? You don’t even look old enough to be at this one unaccompanied by a…uh…what’s it called?…a guardian.”

“All right, go ahead and tick him off,” said Gidrea.

“I’m old enough,” said Renora defiantly.

“Really?” he asked, flashing those disgusting teeth.

“Eject, eject,” said Giddy.

“Yes, really. Now, please excuse me.”

“Wait, uh, I’m Lari, and I’m a guard here.”

“Hold on a second, he might have information we’ll need,” whispered Giddy.

It took a supreme effort of will for Renora to muffle her retort.

“Hi, Lari. I’m Jarael.”

“Jarael, yeah. I’m Lari.”

“Idiot,” Giddy laughed.

“Lari?” asked Renora, touching his sleeve again. “Do you think you could get me in to see Jepp before the premiere starts?”

“Uh, I don’t know about that, ma’am.”

“Please?” pressed Renora, lining her words with the power of the Force.

“Certainly I could. My brother’s one of his bodyguards. Come and find me near the south exit in twenty minutes, and I’ll get you in.”

“Good work, Padawan.”

“Thank you,” said Renora, allowing herself a half-smirk of victory.

“Sure, sure. Enjoy the event!”

“I will! Kriffing idiot,” she added under her breath.

“That’s not a nice thing to say,” said Giddy.

“I must’ve missed my classes on sensitivity.”

The ’fresher was deserted, its single light flickering to a pace not dissimilar to the beating of Renora’s heart. She pulled off the carefully neutral and unmemorable pants and shirt she had worn to the event, wincing at the cloying, gallingly fashionable clothing underneath. Designer pants, designer shoes, designer jacket. Renora was beginning to get a designer migraine.

“So, how do you look?”

“I can’t believe people actually dress like this,” said Renora.

“You can’t believe it, or you refuse to believe it?”

“Both.”

“But you like the shirt.”

Renora admired the shirt in a conveniently supplied mirror, splattered with inconveniently supplied graffiti sporting Huttese swear words. The black shirt said simply “Jepp,” with a red heart around it.

“It gets the message across,” said Renora.

“Ready to kidnap your dearly beloved?”

“I have a package to deliver first.”

“And then?”

“And then,” said Renora, grinning fiercely, “I get to do what I’ve always wanted.”

“What’s that?”

“See D’onny Jepp, of course. Up close and personal.”