Zonia Kalranoos
Caveat emptor
This is the first in the series of threads aimed at setting of the restoration of Coruscant, mainly to ascertain the extent of damage. If you are GA,you are welcome to join in any capacity, in whichever (sensible) location, either surveying or helping the wounded.
On board The Saratoga, a GA Dreadnought-class Mark III ship
Enroute from Dulvoyinn to Coruscant
Cradled inside the metallic belly of The Saratoga was a small chamber, next to main engine room, barely bigger than a broom closet. Equidistant from both the left and right side of the ship, from both top and the bottom, no windows or vents. Perhaps the safest place to be, when in naval battle. Inside, a woman clad in a long, spartan black dress, sat atop an empty supplies crate. The sole ornament was a stealth blaster hung from her belt, its surface polished to perfection with a custom copper finish. A pair of dark eyes scanned across yellow pages of a book enveloped in dark green leather, carefully reading and absorbing every word. The front page was inscribed with a title in golden Aurebesh: Freedom is Never Free, by Sio Bibble.
The copy Zonia held in her hands was one of three remaining copies; one was deposited in library of Coruscant, the other was supposedly a part of a private collection of a very wealthy merchant. Kalranoos recieved her copy as a gift from her philosophy professor during her studies at University of Theed. A distant relative of Bibble, the professor was handed down the book, yet insisted on giving it to Zonia for some reason. She was certainly one of his best students in several generations, both dilligent and talented, but giving her a priceless gift was quite unusual. She had politely declined and returned it while still on Theed, but the book later arrived nonetheless to the address of her Sullustan condo. How the professor knew where to send the book, Zonia had no idea: cosmic cogs turned in mysterious ways.
During his time as lecturer on Naboo, Bibble had written many books, mostly textbooks on politics and philosophy that were later used as literature in many universities across the galaxy. He was a pacifist, idealist even, a staunch supporter of democracy and rule of law. His last book, however, departed from such an utopian view. Freedom is Never Free was written in the waning days of the Republic, spanning from blockade of Naboo to Clone Wars. The sobering experience of galaxy-wide conflict transformed Bibble's rhetoric; as he witnessed the Republic crumble, he began to question democracy as a form of social contract.
He became critical of both politicians and Jedi Order, implicity blaming them for the turmoil galaxy sunk in before establishment of Galactic Empire. The book was a lucid recollection of all flaws of representative democracy, by someone who had the immense cognitive capacity and mental breadth to comprehend the greater picture. He never published the book, but his manuscripts were later found by his children, who edited the book which saw the light of day just a few months after the battle of Endor. Sadly enough, not enough important people had read the book and understood it. If they did, the Gallactic Alliance ship would not be dashing through hyperspace towards war-torn Coruscant. Deeply immersed in reading, Zonia did not hear the first time her comm chimed to alert her of an incoming message. Only the second time her hand idly rummaged through the contents of her messinger bag to find the device.
"Yes?" she spoke into the comm, her eyes still pasted to the page, as she read a particularly interesting passage where Bibble explained where he first started to doubt Palpatine was not who he said he was.
"Ambassador Kalranoos, dropping out of hyperspace in t-minus-five" a male voice reported - "Your presence is needed on the bridge."
"Noted." the dark-haired woman replied, then tossed the comm into the outer compartment of the bag. The book, however, was reluctantly stashed inside. Back to reality.
Several minutes later, the Prakithan economist made her way to the bridge, pushing past busy staff that went about their usual business in the corridors. The blast door slid open, revealing a command room dominated by a wall-to-wall viewport. The lights of Coruscant flickered before them, the sun in the distance looming over the crescent of the planet, forming a glistening corona of brilliance comparable to shooting stars. Zonia now understood why it was dubbed the Jewel of the Core; for a few fleeting moments, she just stood in the doorway, genuinely amazed at the beauty of the planet and lustrous patterns of urban sprawl. Most people from backwater worlds reacted in the exact same way during their first flyover.
A subtle cough was aimed at attracting Zonia's attention.
"I've requested a Jedi to escort you folks to the Senate district. They should be here shortly." the first officer said, hands clasped behind his back - "We can't risk anything on the surface. But assessing the economic costs of restoration is of prime importance."
Dark brows furrowed. Zonia could take care of herself, no space wizards were needed. Her dislike of Force-sensitives was generally very well hidden, but sometimes it surfaced.
"I haven't requested an escort." she said, half-proud, half-irritated - "But fine."
Crossing arms over chest, Kalranoos stood by the viewport and peered into the city lights below. Mere thought of what she will find on the surface tied a knot in her stomach; how many dead, wounded, how much destruction?
"Freedom is never free." she murmured to herself, quietly, like speaking to the wind.
