PRIVATE LOG – THEXANN PEHNATAUR
COO, Guardian Authority Ltd. | Secure Archive Entry
Location: The Obelisk – Sub-Deck Theta-9 | Hidden Temple Threshold & Safehouse Annex
We reached the threshold in near silence.
The ambient hum of the station above had faded—no crowds, no fountains, no casino bells. Just quiet. Real quiet. The kind that makes your heartbeat sound louder than it should. The kind that makes even
Jedi pause. This was not "haunting" but "clean" and "quiet".
The door wasn’t made to impress. It was made to
last.
Polished stone. No panel. No obvious mechanism. Just a subtle pulse in the Force that Valery would feel before any of us—an invitation woven into the bones of the place.
When the wall parted, it didn’t hiss. It
sighed.
The chamber beyond was low-lit, warm. A hidden Jedi Temple, nestled within a space station designed to distract the galaxy. Old stone floors inlaid with songsteel. Meditation alcoves. A tree—yes, a
tree, somehow alive in the artificial light—its roots embedded into a plasteel planter that looked older than the station itself.
There were holocrons in alcoves. A still pool. A statue, half-shadowed, of Caltin Vanagor standing
not as a warrior—but as a guardian.
No lightsaber drawn. Just arms folded, cloak draped, face watching.
No inscription.
Because none was needed.
They just seemed to stay quiet more than anything. They didn’t ask if it was real.
That told me everything.
To the left of the temple? The safehouses. Four, maybe five—each unassuming from the outside. Modular quarters built into old utility spaces and retrofitted with Guardian Authority tech. No signage. One entry, one exit. No data trail. Fully shielded. Fully stocked.
Each one was assigned a different ‘purpose’ on the Obelisk manifest:
- Exhibit Storage Room 17.
- HVAC Substation C.
- Overflow Housing – Staff Roster 4.
- Executive Archive Wing D (for guests who don’t exist).
- And one simply labeled: Retired Server Cache – Do Not Disturb.
In truth, these were cells. Not prison cells—
resistance cells. Safehouses where messages could be exchanged, identities discarded, wounds healed, plans made. This wasn’t an opulent sanctuary. It wasn’t meant to be. The flooring scuffed. The walls plain. One bulkhead showed signs of weld repair.
Serviceable. Durable.
Honest.
And that’s when I turned to them—not as a guide, not as a host, but as
me.
Liram Angellus and Caltin Vanagor didn’t build this for show,
I said at this point. My voice didn’t rise, but it carried.
They built it because they knew.
I looked from Valery, to Vince, to Zarion, to the Broker. Even the silence felt respectful now.
Guardian Authority Ltd. was born out of war. Out of failure. Out of a need to give people something worth fighting for. Liram started it because he wanted to keep building after the blasters went silent. Caltin backed him because… he never believed they would.
I stepped aside and gestured to the safehouses.
This place? It’s not on any stock ledger. It’s not funded through investors or client dividends. This was the first thing Caltin quietly financed after the Battle of Denon. And Liram—he let the Board think it was overflow housing.
I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes.
They lied. Because they had to. Because they believed the Jedi, and the good people left in this galaxy, might one day need a place to start again.
I let that hang. A pause. A moment of clarity. Was there really "fate", like the Force plans everything? Or really just two people planning for many potential outcomes?
I didn’t build this. I don’t claim the legacy. But I’m standing in it.
I looked back at the statue one last time before meeting their eyes again.
I don’t have unlimited funds. We’re not a shadow fleet or a deep-pocket cartel. But what I do have, I can give.
- “I have a manifest of ships. Some outdated. Most reliable.”
- “I have gear. Crates of it—stored, tested, clean.”
- “I have supply lines hidden beneath trade routes. Legitimate ones—ones no pirate would dare touch.”
- “I have droids. Shuttles. Uniforms. Medical gear. Generators. Fuel.”
...But more than that, I have
her.
That is where I tapped my comm, bringing up a holo of a woman in an executive blue-white suit. Elegant. Sharp-eyed.
Alyksandra Angellus. My boss.
She’s Liram’s widow. And she is—by every metric that matters—more determined than he ever was. She doesn’t want to rebuild the galaxy’s trust in the Alliance. She wants to rebuild the galaxy. Period.
I looked back at them all.
I’m not a soldier anymore. But I can be useful. I can help you build something quiet, something capable, something that outlives every tyrant currently drawing breath. So if this is the moment we start… then I’m already in.
End Log
Security Addendum:
- Zeltron and bodyguard continue idle surveillance. No aggression. No proximity breach.
- Perimeter drones looping standard sweep. One unit repositioned to maintenance crawl near deck intersection E5. Continue passive tracking.
- Consider test run of “drift route” courier system via shuttle bay 4D – tagging for supply drops.
Personal Addendum:
Caltin built the foundation.
Liram gave it direction.
I will give it
teeth.
And if the galaxy doesn’t see what we’re doing here?
Good.
That means it’s working.
TAG:
Valery Noble |
Vince |
Zarion Threx |
The Broker
This is what he is saying to people, just like a cutaway
The Broker
Vince
Valery Noble
Thexann Pehnataur
