Part 3: Coruscant ~ Chapter 3 - Up Close and Personal

They were mostly weirdos. That was to be expected, given the particular holo film they had all gathered to celebrate, and Renora had expected it with the uncertain kind of expectation that you expect to come to fruition, but still managed to remain astonished when it does.

It disheartened her to see such a raving horde of unabashed lunatics, but it also infused her with a strange combination of hope and purpose -- the fall of the Republic took everything from the stability of the military, to the supply of food, to the production of electronic, subsonic toothbrushes with it, but it didn’t topple the holo film industry.

A very small, but very powerful avenue of expression and imagination still existed in the galaxy, and as long as it was protected by a legion of weirdos such as this, even the Emperor, with his multitude of diseased dreams, couldn’t hope to lay his greasy claws on it. If Namar Vandort could still churn out those weird and wonderful holo films of his, without living in fear that his right to create would be stripped away by the tenets of tyranny, maybe the Rebellion really could succeed.

Renora smiled, thinking of Luke Skywalker. Literally and figuratively the poster boy for the Rebellion, Luke Skywalker was a hero in every shape and form of the word. A past shrouded in both mystery and humility, a collection of dreams and ideals to outshine a million stars, and a future of greatness and glory in service to an alliance of beings that would restore peace to a galaxy. And yet, Luke Skywalker’s victories could be compared to the victories instigated by a group of creeps who didn’t even know what the word “rebellion” meant.

“It’s a weird galaxy,” Renora whispered.

“Yes,” Giddy said simply.

Still, Renora did see a few costumes here and there that caught her eye in a less-than-negative way, and she had to suppress an almost embarrassingly adolescent desire to stop and ask for a picture, touch the fabric, admire the weapons, and generally gawk like an idiot. Forsaking all that, what she really wanted to do was use the Force to conceal herself and pinch that lady’s Vorpal sword. Or that guy’s plastic bracelet, not a part of his costume, but a pass that would allow him to collect a couple of autographs after the event.

Someone about three meters to Renora’s left must’ve spent a couple of lifetimes working on that Crimson Queen outfit. A tall man chatting on his comlink probably invested all of his life savings into that Guardian uniform, plus his kid’s college money, a couple of house payments, and his retirement funds.

“Focus,” Giddy cautioned.

“Not easy,” gritted Renora.

Lari was waiting for her, just as he had promised, and he wasted no time entering an eight-digit password into a control pad by a small, unnoticeable door. The door slid open with a barely detectable whisper, and he beckoned her through a narrow but well-lit hallway.

“Only like twenty of us have the password,” he said proudly, his voice sounding hollow in the small space. “I only have it ’cause of my bro.”

“He gave it to you?” asked Renora, not really caring who got him the karking password, be it his brother or Qui-Gon Jinn.

“No, he doesn’t know I’ve got it.” The amount of pride in his voice increased tenfold. This guy had the maturity of a pyromaniac eleven-year-old.

“Then aren’t they going to throw us out?”

“Nah, ma’am…I mean, Jarael…that wouldn’t happen.”

Renora wasn’t so sure. Not that it made any difference.

“Here’s The Door,” said Lari, pronouncing the last two words as if they appeared in capital letters. He entered another pass code, this one two digits shorter than the last, and the door skimmed across its tracks, disappearing into the wall.

Renora quickly assessed the room, wanting to pick up as much as she could before Lari’s brother inevitably tore him limb from limb. After the yawning mass of beings outside, this was a welcoming, comfortably-sized lounge, with two sofas tossed haphazardly in the middle, and a small refreshment bar off to the left side of the room. Five guards sprawled easily on the two couches, speaking quietly, and nursing paper cups of water. They were all of a fairly muscular build, all dressed in precisely tailored suits, and all carrying bulges in their pockets that were probably crowd-suppressing weapons. They looked like they had been minted to blend into any environment, which meant they blended in about like a bantha in the middle of a perfume store.

Of course, Renora saw D’onny right away. She couldn’t miss him. That would be like standing in the middle of the Jedi Temple and trying to miss Order 66. But she was trying to ignore him, for all the good that did.

One part of her mind registered the fact that he was here. In this room. Right now. At this moment. This room. Now.

One part registered his location -- sitting at one of the bar stools with his back to her, laughing and chatting up his good buddy, Namar Vandort, the director. He looked happy. They both looked happy. Duh, they both looked happy; they were making each other very rich.

One part of her mind registered that he was wearing his very out-of-style brown hat. Renora loved his very out-of-style brown hat.

And one part of her mind registered that she should only be focusing on what one part of her mind was registering: the only information relevant to the mission.

Kark the mission.

“Breathe, Padawan,” laughed Giddy.

“Lari, you son of a kriffing undeveloped murglak, what in the Nine Hells do you think you’re doing?” The man distributing this profanity-littered question looked almost identical to Lari, except for the lack of gap in his teeth, and mane of shoulder-length hair that was dyed a blinding white.

“I’m just taking her in here to see D’onny, man, if that’s okay with you.”

“No, it’s not kriffing okay with me! Why would it be kriffing okay with me? Lari, you numbskulled son of a moron, you can’t bring every girl who looks at you crosswise to see anybody she wants!”

“I didn’t bring her to see anybody she wants, I brought her to see D’onny.”

“Dammit, Lari,” his brother sighed, running his fingers through that disgusting hair. “Why can’t you ever do what I tell you to do?”

“Hey, man, you’re the one who got me this job in the first place.”

“That’s just because I didn’t want Mom to know they kicked you out of school again!”

“What’s up over there?” someone called from the far side of the room. Renora, who had remained miraculously silent during the whole exchange, glanced over to see D’onny swiveled around in his chair, tossing the remains of a cheap, plastic, blue cup of something into that beautifully shaped mouth.

Right, right, focus on the mission.

But he wasn’t the one who spoke. That loud, obnoxious voice, oppressive, but somehow not annoying, had come from Vandort. Renora secretly admired Vandort’s ability to be both facetious and pleasant at the same time, while telling someone precisely what he thought of them. After all, that was a trait she had in both quality and quantity.

“Sorry, sir, I was just--” began Lari’s brother.

“Hassling some really charming-looking girl over something dumb.”

“And that’s why you’re on the front lines, and not me,” laughed Giddy.

“Not up for this kind of danger?” Renora thought. She would’ve given anything to have been able to say it aloud.

“Yeah, yeah, screwing up again. Tell us something we don’t know, Rorq,” said Vandort, taking a huge gulp of his drink and bringing crashing into the counter.

Rorq blushed such a deep crimson that Renora half expected his hair to turn red, too.

“I’m really sorry, sir. I mean, she wants to see him, sir. I mean, uh, D’onny, sir. My…uh…my brother brought her here to…uh…to see him. To see Mr. Jepp. Sir.”

“Calm down, kid,” said D’onny, setting his cup on the counter and leaping from the bar stool. “It’s all right.”

A massive human man with massive forearms and a massive, flat face stood from where he was seated on one of the couches, moving slowly behind D’onny. The man’s dark, bald head glistened beneath a fine layer of perspiration. His eyes were extremely tiny in the folds of flesh that made up his cheeks and forehead.

“Mr. Jepp,” he rumbled, “I don’t think it’s such a good idea--”

“It’s all right,” D’onny repeated, holding out his hand.

He was standing in front of Renora. Renora blinked. Then she opened her mouth. Then she closed it. Then she remembered to breathe.

“You’re here to see me?” D’onny asked, smiling gently.

“Actually,” she said, impressed with her ability to put words into volume, “it was Lari’s idea. He seems to be your resident genius.”

D’onny laughed, fingering his hat. “Well, that’s Lari’s brother’s fault. He should watch who he gives that key code to. It might fall into the hands of the wrong person.” He regarded her in mock seriousness. “Are you the wrong person?”

“Mr. Jepp, I’m going to be completely honest with you. I’m the wrongest person you’ll meet all day.”

Vandort sputtered, snorting into his drink until he almost choked to death. “At least she’s honest,” he laughed.

“Completely,” Renora added.

“Completely,” D’onny repeated, chuckling softly. “I’m D’onny,” he said, holding out his hand. “But you already know that, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“Even if I didn’t know that, I would still be here,” said Renora, bringing her palm into his fist for a handshake. To her shock and horror, he kissed her hand.

“How’s that?”

“Like I said, it wasn’t my idea.”

“So maybe we should throw you out,” called Vandort.

“Out into that massive, angry mob, all by myself? I wasn’t even born so alone.”

Vandort broke into another round of choking coughs.

“I’d love to talk to you some more, sweetheart, but the show starts in forty minutes, and I’ve got to get out there before they trample me to death.”

“I would’ve thought you’d have gotten used to death by teenage girl.”

“He’ll never get used to it,” said Vandort. “You’d think he’s some kind of desert monk.”

“Look who’s talking,” laughed D’onny. “Now then, I gotta be cutting out, sweetheart. Any last words?”

“Yeah, I made a list, in case my tongue went numb from shock.”

D’onny grinned. “List away.”

“First of all, thank you. For everything. There’s a lot this ‘civilized’ galaxy can stand to learn from a man like you, Mr. Jepp. In all things. I know I have.”

“Hey, don’t give him such a big head,” said Vandort.

“No, thank you,” said D’onny, issuing his customary reply. “Really, thank you. So much, from the bottom of my heart.” He hugged her. Renora wanted to do something, but she didn’t know what it was. Maybe scream.

“Second of all, I probably shouldn’t be, but I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “For what?”

“For this.”