(Vaylin POV - One Year After her escape)
The perpetual twilight of Coruscant's lower-level lights wrapped around like a familiar shroud as she walked beside her mother through the crowded thoroughfare. The hood of her robe cast deep shadows across her face, concealing features that had grown sharper and more angular over the past year. Her hair, now grown back to shoulder length, fell in waves of midnight black streaked with blonde highlights. A permanent reminder no matter what she tried to change it back, of what the zealots had done to her.
The press of bodies around them felt simultaneously comforting and suffocating. Here, in the masses of the Republic's capital world they were just two more travelers among millions. No one looked twice at the hooded figures moving with purpose through the market district. The air carried the scents of a dozen different worlds ranging from exotic spices, processed foods, industrial lubricants, and the underlying metallic tang that seemed to permeate everywhere so far they have traveled. I couldn't help but pick up fragments of conversations in a dozen languages. Traders haggling over shipping rates, spacers comparing hyperspace routes, families discussing dinner plans. The mundane normalcy of it all felt almost surreal after everything they had endured.
"Do you think we've finally shaken them?" I asked quietly, my voice barely audible above the ambient noise of the crowd. She kept her head down, eyes focused on the worn permacrete beneath their feet. The question had been weighing on her mind for weeks now, whether the retrieval squads her father had undoubtedly dispatched were still hunting them across the galaxy.
Senya's response came after a measured pause, her voice carrying the careful control that had become habitual years ago when she first started training. "Perhaps. But it's safer to assume we haven't." Her hand rested casually at her side, though Vaylin could sense the tension in her posture. "The reach of... our former associates... extends far beyond what most people realize. Better to keep moving for now."
The careful phrasing wasn't lost on her. Even here, surrounded by the noise and chaos of a Republic world light years away, they couldn't risk speaking openly about her father's forces. Too many ears, too many potential informants, too many ways for careless words to find their way back to Zakuul. They moved through the crowd with practiced efficiency, two more shadows among thousands. It had been difficult to learn how to walk differently over the past year - less of the unconscious authority she'd carried as a princess and more of a naive heiress trying not to be noticed. The transformation hadn't been easy; years of conditioning in royal protocol and imperial presence were difficult habits to break.
As they navigated around a cluster of Twi'lek merchants arguing over some mechanical components, Vaylin noticed a subtle shift in the crowd ahead. People were unconsciously stepping aside, creating a clear path through the otherwise chaotic press of bodies. The deference was subtle but unmistakable the kind of respectful space that beings created around those who carried visible authority or a dangerous reputation.
Two figures emerged from the crowd, walking with the confident stride of those accustomed to having space made for them. The first was an older human male, his graying hair neatly trimmed and his weathered face bearing the calm expression of someone who had seen much and feared little. His companion was younger, a Zabrak female whose pale skin bore the traditional tattoos of her species in intricate patterns around her temples. Both wore simple brown robes that managed to convey both humility and unmistakable authority.
"Master Drayen" the younger woman was saying as they passed within earshot, "shouldn't we be focusing our search in the upper levels? Force-sensitives with are more likely to seek refuge among the wealthy districts instead of down here."
I could feel my blood turn as the word 'Jedi' whispered through the crowd around them. She'd heard the stories of course, the Republic's mystical warriors who served as both diplomats and generals, wielding lightsabers and the Force in service to democracy and justice. But seeing them here, now, while she and her mother carried their own dangerous secrets...
"Patience, Kess" the older man replied, his voice carrying the measured cadence of a teacher. "Those we seek may not follow expected patterns. Sometimes the best place to hide is among the masses."
I couldn't help but sigh as the slight movement as a breeze stirred her mother's cloak, revealing for just an instant the distinctive shape of a lightsaber hilt at her belt. The weapon was concealed again in moments, but the brief exposure sent a spike of adrenaline through Vaylin's system. They continued walking, maintaining their casual pace while her heart started to pick up and hammer against her ribs. She started looking around for objects and items to throw at the Jedi. It had been far to long since she could let loose.
The crowd flowed around them like water, and for a moment it seemed they would pass the Jedi without incident. Vaylin allowed herself to hope that they could simply disappear back into the anonymous masses, just two more travelers among millions.
Then the older Jedi stopped.
Vaylin felt it first as a subtle pressure against her consciousness not intrusive or aggressive, but unmistakably present. Someone was extending their awareness through the Force, probing gently at the edges of her mental defenses. The sensation triggered immediate memories of Nathema, of zealots poking and prodding at her mind with their crude instruments of psychic torture.
"Master?" the younger Jedi asked, noting her companion's sudden stillness.
Master Drayen turned slowly, his experienced eyes scanning the crowd before settling on Senya and Vaylin with a certainty. His expression remained polite and non-threatening, but there was an unmistakable intensity in his gaze as he studied their hooded forms.
"Excuse me" he called out, his voice carrying clearly across the ambient noise of the market. The crowd around them seemed to sense the building tension, people unconsciously creating more space as the Jedi Master approached. "Might I have a word?"
Vaylin saw her mother shift her feet into a formation of heightened readiness. Years of combat experience were evident in the way Senya turned to face the approaching Jedi, her movements fluid and controlled as I shifted into the 2nd royal stance slowly and began preparing to flee.
"Of course" Senya replied "How may we assist you?"
His eyes moved between them, taking moments on each to study them. I couldnt decide on what exactly the man was looking for but He had to see something from the way she caught him studying her from the corner of his eye, as if trying to puzzle out something that didn't quite fit. The girl stepped closer, her hand resting casually near her lightsaber but not quite touching it.
"I'm Master Jorik Drayen of the Jedi Order" he said formally, inclining his head in a gesture of respect. "This is my apprentice, Kess Varda. I couldn't help but notice the both of you as we were walking by." His words were sounding diplomatic, but the way his sideways glance at me never stopped seemed excessive. "It's not often we encounter individuals with such... pronounced presence walking among the population."
Her mothers posture remained relaxed "I'm not sure what you mean, Master Jedi. We're simple merchants from Alderaan, recently arrived to conduct business in the Mid Rim shipping lanes."
"Have you perhaps noticed anyone suspicious during your travels?" Drayen continued gently, his focus finally moving back to Senya "We're investigating reports of Force-sensitive individuals who may have recently arrived on Coruscant refugees, possibly, from conflicts in the Outer Rim territories. Some may have connections to Imperial forces."
"I'm afraid we haven't seen anyone matching that description" the cover story flowing with practiced ease. "We only arrived yesterday aboard a cargo freighter from the Alderaan sector. Our business here is entirely legitimate just securing shipping contracts for Alderaanian luxury goods. Nothing more exciting than trade negotiations and customs paperwork, I assure you."
Drayen nodded thoughtfully, but Vaylin could feel his Force presence continuing to probe at the edges of their defenses. The sensation made her ager crawl higher, reminding her too much of the invasive examinations she'd endured on Nathema.
"Of course" the Jedi Master said. "Forgive me for detaining you. The Order has been tracking some concerning individuals, and we must be thorough in our investigations."
As he began to step back, his apprentice leaned close to whisper something urgently in his ear. Vaylin caught fragments of the hushed conversation: "—power levels—" "—suppressed signatures—" "—not what they seem—"
Drayen's expression shifted subtly as he processed his apprentice's observations. When he looked back at them, there was a new intensity in his gaze.
"Forgive me" he said, his tone remaining polite but carrying new weight, "but I must ask directly—are you Jedi?"
The question hung in the air like a blade poised to fall. Vaylin felt her mother's carefully controlled composure tighten almost imperceptibly.
"No" Senya replied firmly. "I believe you're mistaken, Master Jedi. We are not so honored to have a connection to your order."
The words had barely left Senya's lips when I couldn't suppress a derisive snort. The idea of her mother, the best Knight of Zakuul who had served the Eternal Throne being mistaken for one of these degraded Republic lapdogs was almost laughable. The sound escaped before she could stop it, a bitter expression of contempt that carried more weight than any spoken words.
I could see how Kess Varda's eyes snapped back to me "That's an interesting reaction" the Zabrak said, her voice taking on a harder edge. "Especially from someone who radiates such darkness." Her hand moved to rest on her lightsaber hilt, no longer casual but ready for action. "With that level of contempt for the Jedi, I'd say we're looking at a Sith."
Before Senya could intervene, before diplomatic words could smooth over the confrontation, I couldn't contain the disgust felt inside my chest. The careful control she'd maintained for months, the suppression of everything she'd become on Nathema, suddenly seemed pointless in the face of such breathtaking ignorance.
"Sith?" laughing, the sound carrying a cold edge that made nearby civilians unconsciously step further away. She pushed back her hood with deliberate slowness, revealing her features and the black hair that marked her as something far more dangerous than these fools could comprehend. "You think I'm Sith?"
The markings on her arms began to burn as power pressed against her carefully maintained barriers. "Why would I want to be like them? The Sith are pathetic slaves to their emotions, forever bowing and scraping to whatever master happens to be stronger at the moment. They're weak."
Her pale eyes fixed on the younger Jedi with predatory intensity. "But the Jedi? You're even worse. At least the Sith are honest about their hunger for power. You wrap yourselves in righteousness while serving the corrupt whores that can't even maintain order in its own territories. You speak of peace while carrying weapons, preach about letting go of emotions while forming your precious bonds with padawans and masters."
The temperature around them seemed to drop several degrees as anger began to leak through her control. Passersby were now actively avoiding their area, sensing danger even if they couldn't identify its source.
"Both your orders are relics" she continued, her voice carrying the absolute certainty of someone who had seen what true power looked like. "The Jedi cling to outdated traditions and failed philosophies. The Sith tear themselves apart with infighting and petty ambitions. You're all so busy fighting each other that you can't see how small and insignificant you really are."
Master Drayen's hand had moved to his lightsaber, though he hadn't drawn it yet. His expression showed the kind of focused concern that came from encountering something genuinely dangerous.
The Jedi Master's words hit me like a physical blow, cutting through my carefully constructed armor of contempt and rage. "Child, I sense great pain in you, but also tremendous power corrupted by suffering. The path you're walking leads only to destruction."
Pain. As if he had any comprehension of what real pain looked like. As if his training had prepared him to understand what I had endured in those ritual chambers, what I had been remade into by zealots whos suffering was a pathway to transcendence.
"You understand nothing" I said, my voice carrying the fury that had been building since Nathema. The markings hidden beneath my sleeves burned with pleasurable fire, responding to my emotional state. "Nothing about pain. Nothing about power. Nothing"
"Master Drayen, please" my mother said, stepping forward slightly with her hands raised in a peaceful gesture. "Surely there's no need to involve additional authorities. We're simply travelers passing through—"
"I'm sorry, but this is not negotiable," he replied, his other hand raised thumb hovering over a comlink's activation switch. "Your Companion concerns me as she is unlike anything we've encountered. The Council must be informed immediately."
Mother's shoulders sagged slightly, and she let out a soft sigh that seemed to carry a tired weight. "Vaylin" she said quietly, her voice carrying a particular tone I had learned to recognize very well over our year of running together.
My smile was sharp as broken glass.
I raised my left hand with deliberate slowness, my fingers positioned as if I were grasping something delicate and precious. The Force responded to my will like an extension of my own body, wrapping around the Jedi Master's arm, his eyes widened as he felt the pressure building around his limb, but by then it was far too late. With a sharp counterclockwise twist of my wrist, the sound of bone snapping was audible even over the ambient noise of the marketplace a wet crack that made the watching people nearby gasp in horror. Drayen cried out in pain as his broken arm contorted at an unnatural angle, the comlink falling.
Before the device could even finish its descent, I gestured with my right hand, closing my fist around empty air. The comlink crumpled like cheap metal, its components crushing together with a sound like grinding teeth. Sparks flew from the destroyed electronics as I continued to apply pressure, reducing the communication device to nothing more than a twisted lump of scrap.
"Let's go" Mother said urgently, already pulling her hood back up and moving away from the confrontation. Her voice carried the crisp authority of someone accustomed to making life-or-death decisions in seconds.
I followed her lead, drawing my own hood up as we began walking rapidly through the crowd. Behind us, I could hear Master Drayen shouting through his pain, trying to rally his apprentice and call for assistance despite his shattered arm. The Zabrak padawan was torn between helping her injured master and pursuing us, her uncertainty buying us precious seconds.
The marketplace erupted into chaos around us. Civilians who had witnessed the confrontation reacted with predictable panic—some screaming, others pulling out recording devices to capture footage of what they had just seen, still others running toward the nearest security station to summon the authorities. The sound of multiple beings shouting overlapped into a cacophony of fear and excitement.
"Guards! Someone call the Coruscant Guard!"
"Did you see that? She broke his arm without even touching him!"
"Are those holos still recording? This is going straight to the HoloNet!"
"Force-users fighting in the market! Where's security when you need them?"
Mother navigated through the panicking crowd with practiced efficiency, her years of military experience evident in how she chose our path. She avoided the main thoroughfares where security forces would likely converge, instead leading us through side passages and maintenance corridors that most civilians wouldn't even notice.
We had been moving for perhaps five minutes when she suddenly stopped beside a narrow alley where two beings were engaged in what appeared to be a heated negotiation. A Duros male and a human female, both wearing simple brown traveling cloaks not unlike our own, though of better quality.
"Excuse me" Mother said politely, stepping into the alley with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'm afraid we need your assistance."
The Duros looked up in confusion. "I'm sorry, but we're in the middle of—"
He never finished the sentence. Senya hand shot out with lightning speed, striking at the base of his neck that dropped him unconscious before he could react. The human woman opened her mouth to scream, but I was already moving, using the Force to apply pressure to the arteries in her neck until she slumped to the ground beside her companion.
"Quickly" Mother said, already stripping the unconscious Duros of his cloak. "We need to change before security forces start their sweep."
I pulled the human woman's cloak off her limp form, noting that it was made from expensive fabric with subtle embroidery that spoke of wealth and status. The garment was longer than what I had been wearing, falling almost to my ankles.They would wake up confused and missing some clothes, but otherwise unharmed. Mother was worrying about avoiding unnecessary casualties when possible.
"This way" she said, leading us deeper into the maze of corridors and service passages that honeycombed this section of the city. I noticed that she had unclipped her lightsaber from her belt, holding the weapon concealed within the folds of her stolen cloak. A few moments later we emerged from the service corridor into another crowded marketplace. This one was more upscale than where we had encountered the Jedi, filled with well-dressed shoppers examining luxury goods from across the galaxy. Our stolen cloaks would helpfully let us blend in. As we walked I looked over our robes making sure there wasn't any blood or mud on them.
Behind us, I could hear the distinctive whine of approaching speeders and the sharp commands of security forces mobilizing in response to the disturbance we had caused. The Coruscant Guard was finally responding, though whether they were acting on the Jedi's call for assistance or simply reacting to civilian reports of the incident, I couldn't tell.
"The recording devices" I said quietly to Mother as we walked. "Multiple civilians captured what happened back there. By now, footage of me using the Force against that Jedi is probably spreading across local networks."
Mother's expression remained calm, but I caught the slight tightening around her eyes that indicated she was already thinking through the implications. "Then we need to accelerate our departure timeline. Staying on Coruscant is no longer viable."
The irony wasn't lost on me. We had come to the Republic's capital world seeking anonymity among the billions of inhabitants, only to find ourselves more exposed than ever.
"You're smiling" Mother observed.
I touched my face and felt the unfamiliar pull of muscles I hadn't used in months. The expression felt strange after so long maintaining carefully neutral features in public, but I couldn't quite bring myself to regret it. The memory of Master Drayen's arm snapping, the satisfying crunch of his comlink being crushed it had been deeply gratifying after months of suppression.
I forced my features back into neutrality, schooling my expression into the blank mask I had perfected during our year of running. "Better?" I asked, though the satisfaction still burned warm in my chest.
Mother studied my face for a moment longer before nodding. "This way" she said, leading me toward what appeared to be a maintenance entrance built into the side of a massive support pillar. The opening was nearly invisible unless you knew what to look for, camouflaged by architectural details that made it blend seamlessly with the surrounding structure.
The entrance led to a narrow stairwell that descended into the depths of Coruscant's maze. Unlike the well-lit commercial areas we had just left, this passage was illuminated only by dim emergency lighting that cast long shadows on the worn durasteel steps. The air grew cooler as we descended, carrying the metallic scent of recycled atmosphere and the distant hum of massive machinery that kept the city functioning.
Our footsteps echoed in the narrow stairwell as we descended. Level 5062, 5061, 5060—each floor was marked by faded numerals painted on the walls, though many were barely legible after decades of neglect. We passed occasional maintenance workers and a few beings who looked like they were trying to avoid attention for reasons of their own. No one made eye contact, and no one asked questions.
"How much further?" I asked quietly as we passed level 5059, each level taking longer to cross then the last. My legs were beginning to ache from the constant downward steps, and the recycled air was making my throat dry.
"Just one more level" Mother replied without slowing her pace. "Level 5058 should have what we need."
The descent took nearly ten minutes, our progress slowed by the need to navigate around maintenance equipment and occasional groups of workers servicing the city's infrastructure.
Finally, we reached level 5058. The stairwell opened onto a platform that stretched away into a vast cavern carved from neon signs in a dozen languages advertised services both legal and questionable, while the air carried the scents of exotic foods and industrial lubricants in equal measure. The ceiling was lost in shadow high above us, supported by massive pillars that had been decorated with murals and graffiti accumulated over generations. Speeders moved through lanes that wove between the support structures, their lights creating streaks of color against the perpetual twilight of the deep city.
"Excuse me" Mother approached a mechanic who was working on what appeared to be a heavily modified cargo hauler. The being looked up from his repairs, his large eyes reflecting the flickering light of his welding torch.
"We're looking for transportation" Mother said, her tone polite but carrying the subtle undertones of someone accustomed to being taken seriously. "Something fast and private. Do you know where we might find taxi services in this area?"
The Rodian's head tilted as he studied us, taking in our expensive cloaks and the way we carried ourselves. Then he laughed a chittering, dismissive sound that echoed off the nearby support pillars.
"Taxi services?" He turned back to his work, clearly considering the conversation over. "You're in the wrong place, lady. Try the upper levels."
Mother's jaw tightened slightly, but she maintained her composure as we moved away from the unhelpful mechanic. The dismissal stung not because we needed this particular Rodian's help, but because it highlighted how out of place we were in this environment despite our attempts to blend in.
"Let's try someone else" she said quietly, her eyes scanning the busy platform for other potential sources of information.
We approached a Twi'lek who was loading cargo containers onto a small transport. When Mother asked about transportation options, he barely glanced up from his work before shaking his head. "Don't know nothing about taxis" he muttered in heavily accented Basic.
The third being we approached a woman in coveralls stained with engine grease was slightly more helpful but equally dismissive. "You want transportation? Build yourself a speeder," she said with a laugh before turning away.
As the two of them walked away from the garage, Vaylin kept the woman out of the corner of her eye through her peripheral vision. The mechanic had returned to her work beneath the hovercar, sliding back under the elevated vehicle with practiced ease. The hydraulic lift held the speeder steady at chest height, supported by thick mechanical arms that extended from a central pillar. The woman's legs were visible beneath the vehicle as she resumed whatever repair work had been interrupted by their brief exchange
The dismissive laughter of the Rodian mechanic still echoed in her mind. The way the woman beneath the hovercar had barely looked up from her work, treating them like naive tourists who didn't belong in the depths of Coruscant's industrial levels. The casual contempt in their voices when they'd suggested she and her mother "build their own speeder" or "try the upper levels."
Weak. Pathetic. Beneath notice.
Just as they reached the garage's threshold, Vaylin made her decision.
Without breaking stride, without even turning her head to look back at the hovercar, she raised her left hand slightly and made a small, precise twisting motion with her index finger. The gesture was so subtle it could have been mistaken for adjusting her grip on her cloak, barely more than a twitch of movement.
Through the Force, her will reached out like an invisible hand finding the specific stress points in the hydraulic lift's support mechanism. The primary safety lock that held the lift's arm in position was a simple mechanical device effective when properly maintained, but vulnerable to precisely applied pressure in exactly the right spot.
The sound was soft, almost inaudible over the ambient noise of the garage, but Vaylin felt the satisfying snap as the safety mechanism disengaged. The hydraulic lift, no longer properly locked in position, began to descend under the weight of the hovercar.
The woman beneath the vehicle had perhaps a second to register that something was wrong. Her legs kicked frantically as she tried to push herself out from under the descending mass of metal and repulsorlift technology. Tools scattered across the garage floor as she scrambled backward, her hands slapping against the duracrete in desperate haste.
She almost made it.
The hovercar's undercarriage caught her across the torso just as she was pulling her upper body clear. The weight wasn't quite enough to crush her completely the garage's safety systems engaged automatically, emergency repulsors activating to prevent a total collapse but it was more than sufficient to pin her beneath several tons of speeder.
I felt a warm surge of satisfaction as they stepped out of the garage and into the dimly lit corridor beyond. The woman's screams were already being muffled by distance and the sound of emergency equipment being activated. By the time medical personnel arrived, she would be extracted and treated, most likely recovering fully within a few weeks.
But she would remember this pain. She would remember that her casual dismissal had consequences, even if she never understood exactly what those consequences had been or how they had been delivered.
As they walked, She couldnt help but glance sideways at her mother, curious about Senya's reaction to what had just occurred. The older woman's expression remained carefully neutral, her pace steady and unhurried as they navigated through the maze of lower-level corridors. Her hands remained visible and relaxed no anger at all. Yet Senya said nothing.
They walked in silence for several minutes, putting distance between themselves and the garage before the older woman finally spoke.
"We'll need to find another source of transportation" Senya said quietly, her voice carrying no hint of judgment or concern about what had just transpired. "The commotion from before will draw attention.'
It wasn't until Mother approached a elderly man sitting beside a small parts stand that we finally got useful information. The being's weathered face showed the kind of patience that came from decades of watching the galaxy's troubles come and go.
"Transportation, you say?" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as Mother discreetly pressed a credit chip into his palm. "Ah, yes. You'll want the landing pad over there." He pointed toward an elevated platform in the distance. "See that structure? They've got rental droids for standard speeders, and usually some independent operators looking for passengers. Much more... flexible... than the official services."
"Thank you" Mother said with genuine gratitude. The man pocketed the credit with a knowing nod and returned to arranging his modest collection of mechanical components.
As we made our way toward the landing pad, I found myself studying the various stalls and vendors that lined our route. Most sold mechanical parts, tools, or processed foods, but one particular stand caught my attention. It appeared to specialize in decorative items small sculptures, jewelry, and various trinkets that spoke to the aesthetic sensibilities of Coruscant's deep-level inhabitants.
Hanging from thin wire hooks along the front of the stall was a collection of wooden carvings, each one depicting different creatures from across the galaxy. Most were crude but charming representations of common animals that she has not seen, but one piece stood out from the rest.
It was a small carving of what appeared to be a feline predator. The craftsmanship was superior to the other pieces the wood had been carefully selected to show natural grain patterns that enhanced the creature's muscular form, and the artist had captured something fierce and proud in the pose despite its small size perhaps only as long as my hand.
I wanted it.
Without breaking stride or altering my pace, I extended my consciousness through the Force. The wooden carving hung from a simple wire hook, swaying slightly in the artificial breeze created by passing air traffic. I wrapped invisible tendrils of telekinetic energy around the small sculpture, applying just enough pressure to lift it free from its hook without causing vibration that might alert the vendor.
The carving carving rose silently into the air, floating perhaps two meters above the heads of the crowd as I guided it along our path. The vendor, engrossed in negotiating with a potential customer over the price of a bronze bracelet, never looked up. Other pedestrians were focused on their own business, their attention directed toward ground-level concerns rather than the empty air above their heads.
I was quite pleased with my technique until the floating carving encountered an unexpected obstacle.
A tall Zabrak male, his attention focused on something displayed in a nearby electronics stall, stepped directly into the sculpture's flight path. The wooden nexu bonked him squarely on the back of his head with a soft thud that was audible even over the ambient noise of the marketplace.
"What the—?" The Zabrak spun around, his hand instinctively moving to the spot where he'd been struck. His eyes swept the crowd around him, searching for whoever had thrown something at his head. Several nearby beings looked up curiously, but no one appeared to be holding anything that could have been responsible for the impact.
I maintained perfect control over my expression and pace, though internally I was mortified by the clumsiness of my theft. The Zabrak's confusion was evident as he continued to look around for several more seconds before finally shrugging and returning his attention to the electronics display.
With more careful attention to obstacles, I guided the carving the remaining distance to my position, letting it settle gently into my waiting palm before tucking it quickly into an inner pocket of my cloak. The whole acquisition had taken perhaps thirty seconds. The small victory gave me a surge of satisfaction that was probably disproportionate to the actual achievement. It wasn't about the carving itself, though I genuinely did find it appealing. It was about demonstrating to myself that I could still act with initiative and independence, that I wasn't just a passive follower letting Mother make all the decisions about our existence.
The landing platform materialized ahead of them through the maze of lower-level corridors, exactly as described. The structure was larger than Vaylin had expected a sprawling expanse of duracrete and metal that jutted out from the city's superstructure like a shelf carved into the urban cliff face. Multiple levels of landing pads accommodated everything from single-person speeders to small cargo transports, their surfaces scarred by countless takeoffs and landings over the decades. The constant hum of machinery provided a backdrop to conversations conducted in a dozen different languages.
As they approached the main cluster of vendors and independent operators, she could see the rental droid standing next to an automated kiosks that dispensed access codes for standard civilian speeders. But it was the collection of beings gathered around a modified cargo hauler that drew her attention. These weren't regulated taxi services, these people looked more like what I imagined smugglers those who were the kind of pilots who asked few questions and remembered even fewer details about their passengers.
Mother moved with purpose toward the group, her stolen cloak billowing slightly in the breeze created by passing air traffic. Vaylin followed, noting how several of the pilots looked up with interest as they approached, the promise of credits had a way of focusing attention quickly.
We were perhaps fifty meters from the landing pad when the sound of approaching voices made both of us tense simultaneously.
"—reports indicate two female humanoids, one adolescent and one adult—"
"—Force-sensitive individuals who assaulted a Jedi Master in the marketplace—"
"—considered extremely dangerous—"
The voices were getting closer, accompanied by the distinctive sound of multiple beings moving with coordinated purpose. I risked a glance over my shoulder and felt my blood turn to ice.
A group of six figures was making its way through the crowd toward our general area. Two wore the unmistakable brown robes of Jedi not the same ones we had encountered earlier, but clearly members of the same Order. The other four were Coruscant Guard troopers in their distinctive armor, their weapons clearly visible and their formation suggesting they were prepared for trouble.
They were still perhaps a hundred meters away, but their path would bring them directly past the landing pad we were approaching. More concerning, they seemed to be systematically checking with vendors and civilians, undoubtedly showing descriptions of us and asking if anyone had seen suspicious Force-users in the area.
"Change of plans" Mother said quietly, her voice carrying the calm authority that emerged whenever our situation became critical. "Instead of the rental droid, we're going to approach the independent operators."
As we altered our course toward the figures standing around the edges of the landing pad, I could see perhaps a dozen beings of various species, each standing beside their own personal speeder or airspeeder. Unlike the standardized rental vehicles, these craft were clearly customized. Some looked for speed, others for cargo capacity, and a few that looked like they were built for avoiding unwanted attention from law enforcement.
Mother didn't waste time with subtle negotiations. As we approached the group of independent operators, she raised her voice just enough to be heard by all of them without shouting.
"Eight thousand credits" she announced, her tone carrying the desperate authority of someone with limited time and unlimited resources, "to whoever gets us out of here and somewhere we won't be found."
The reaction was immediate and polarized. Several of the operators stepped forward with obvious interest eight thousand credits was serious money, even for beings who specialized in discrete transportation. But an equal number stepped back, their survival instincts recognizing that jobs offering such inflated payment usually came with proportionally dangerous complications.
Behind us, I could hear the search party's voices growing louder and more urgent. One of the Jedi had clearly spotted us in the crowd, because the organized questioning had transformed into directed pursuit.
"There! Two females in expensive cloaks, heading for the landing pad!"
"Move to intercept! Don't let them reach transportation!"
A human male with extensive modifications covering the left side of his face stepped forward from the group of interested operators. His augmented eye whirred as it focused on us, then shifted to track the approaching security forces.
"Eight thousand for a hot extraction?" He grinned, revealing several gold teeth that gleamed in the platform's lighting. "Lady, you've got yourself a pilot."
Turning he gestured toward a blue speeder with practiced efficiency, his augmented eye never leaving the approaching security forces. His vessel was clearly a custom job what she assumed was once been a standard airspeeder had been extensively modified with additional engine pods, reinforced armor plating, and what appeared to be sensor equipment integrated seamlessly into its hull.
"Move fast, ladies" he said, already heading toward the driver's position. "My ride's got two passenger rows and enough juice to outrun anything the Republic's got in this sector."
Vaylin followed her mother toward the speeder, her heart hammering against her ribs as the voices of their pursuers grew increasingly urgent behind them. The Jedi and Guard were close enough now that she could make out individual words of their coordinated search pattern.
"Secure the perimeter around the landing pad!"
"Check every vessel for unauthorized passengers!"
"Do not let them escape into the lower levels!"
As they reached the speeder, Mother climbed into the rear passenger area first, immediately sitting behind the pilot where she could monitor both their pilot and the approaching threat through the transparent canopy. I followed, settling beside her mother and instinctively reaching for the crash restraints as she had been taught during their various escapes over the past year.
But rather than immediately firing up the engines and lifting off, their pilot calmly settled into the driver's seat and reached into his jacket pocket. He withdrew a thin cylindrical object that Vaylin didn't recognize.
"What are you doing?" Vaylin asked, genuine confusion coloring her voice as the pilot placed the cylinder in his mouth and activated what appeared to be a heating element at its tip. "They're getting closer!"
The man inhaled deeply from the device, then exhaled a thin stream of aromatic smoke that carried a strange, almost sweet scent mixed with something sharper and more chemical. His augmented eye continued to track the approaching security forces, but his features remained completely relaxed despite the obvious danger.
"Deathstick" he replied casually, as if the name explained everything about his calm demeanor in the face of imminent capture. "Helps with stress management during high-risk extractions."
"We need to leave," Senya said urgently, her voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to life-or-death timing. "Now would be an excellent time to demonstrate why we're paying you eight thousand credits."
The pilot took another long drag from his deathstick, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the Jedi-led search party was now less than fifty meters away and closing fast. "Where exactly are we headed, ladies? Can't plot a course without a destination."
"Somewhere we can disappear completely" Senya replied, leaning forward in her seat. "The best place to be forgotten and remake our lives without questions about our past."
The pilot's response was immediate laughter not nervous amusement, but genuine mirth at what he apparently considered an easy question. "Lady, there's only one place on Coruscant for that kind of fresh start" he said, finally reaching for the speeder's ignition controls. "The City of Dreams."
The name meant nothing to Vaylin, but something in the way he pronounced it suggested significance beyond its simple designation. Before she could ask for clarification, however, the pilot activated the speeder's repulsor engines with smooth precision.
The sensation of liftoff was immediate and exhilarating. The modified speeder rose from the landing pad with surprising grace, Through the transparent canopy, Vaylin watched as the platform fell away below them, the figures of their pursuers rapidly shrinking to tiny specks against the industrial landscape.
"The city is located around level three thousand" the pilot explained as they gained altitude and began blending into the normal flow of aerial traffic. "Deep enough that surface authorities cannot maintain any patrols, but so deep your past dealing with the truly dangerous elements. Perfect for people who need to vanish. Down there, the Republic's laws are more like suggestions, and nobody asks inconvenient questions about your past."
The pilot took a final drag then casually flicked the spent cylinder out through a small ventilation port. "Should be a smooth ride from here" he said, settling back in his seat with obvious satisfaction. "Eight thousand credits well earned."
The first indication of serious pursuit came almost immediately. Brilliant blue energy bolts began crackling past their speeder's hull, the distinctive whine of Republic stun weapons cutting through the ambient noise of the engines.
"I can't believe they are shooting at us" i couldnt help but mutter, watching more energy bolts sizzle through the air around them, some passing close enough that she could feel the heat through the transparent canopy.
"Stun bolts" the pilot confirmed, banking sharply to avoid a particularly well-aimed shot that would have struck their port engine. "They want you alive, which is good news for all of us. Dead passengers don't pay their bills."
The pilot immediately dove into the densest part of the aerial traffic, weaving between massive cargo haulers and civilian transports with precision. The tactic was brilliant within moments, their pursuers were forced to cease fire as the risk of hitting innocent civilians became too great.
"Can't shoot what they can't see" the pilot said with satisfaction, threading their speeder through a gap between two enormous atmospheric processors that would have challenged even military pilots. "And the Republic doesn't appreciate collateral damage on their capital world."
As they descended through the increasingly dense traffic patterns of Coruscant's middle levels, Vaylin watched in fascination as the character of the city began to change around them. The clean, regulated architecture of the upper zones gave way to something more utilitarian and crowded. Buildings pressed closer together, their surfaces showing the wear and staining of heavy industrial use.
Level by level, the descent revealed different societies. At level 4993 they passed through commercial districts where the signs were in multiple languages and the businesses catered to spacers and traders from across the galaxy. At level 4500, the architecture became more organic, built by beings who valued function over form and the buildings reflected that.
But their pursuers were persistent. The chase continued through the maze of lower-level traffic, with the Jedi speeder and security craft maintaining pursuit despite the increasingly difficult flying conditions. Energy bolts continued to flash past their hull whenever the Republic forces had clear shots, forcing their pilot into increasingly dramatic evasive maneuvers.
"We've got more joining the party" the pilot announced, checking his sensors as additional blips appeared on the display. "Looks like they've called in reinforcements from the lower-level patrol units."
Vaylin could see the new arrivals through the rear viewport three additional speeders rising from landing platforms in the depths below, their hulls bearing the markings of Coruscant Guard units assigned to the deep city zones. The net was closing around them as the Republic forces coordinated their efforts to cut off escape routes.
"Time to get creative" the pilot muttered, suddenly diving toward what appeared to be a massive opening in the city's infrastructure.
"Where are you going?" Senya demanded, her voice sharp with concern as they plunged into the unknown depths.
"Level four thousand" the pilot replied grimly. "The abandoned zones. Dangerous as hell, but it's also where Republic pursuit teams really don't like to follow."
As they descended through the gap between inhabited levels, the transformation of their surroundings was immediate and dramatic. The organized chaos of urban civilization gave way to something that looked like the aftermath of an apocalypse. Ancient infrastructure stretched away into shadow, its surfaces corroded and stained by centuries of industrial decay.
The buildings here if they could even still be called buildings, were skeletal frameworks of metal and stone, their original purposes lost to time and neglect. Massive support columns disappeared into darkness above and below, their surfaces covered in a patina of rust and chemical residue that created grotesque patterns of color across the ancient materials.
"Look at this place" Vaylin breathed, pressing her face against the speeder's viewport as they flew deeper into the abandoned infrastructure. "How long has it been like this?"
"Centuries" the pilot replied, his attention split between flying and monitoring their pursuers. " As the city grows the overlives just built over it and left it to rot."
Through the transparent canopy, I gasped entranced as I could see evidence of the environmental catastrophe that had claimed this section of the city. The air itself seemed thick and discolored, carrying particles that caught their speeder's lights like toxic snow. Pools of liquid that definitely wasn't water had collected in the low-lying areas, their surfaces reflecting unnatural colors that spoke to heavy chemical contamination.
But it was the movement in the shadows that truly captured her attention. Something large and angular scuttled between support pillars, its chitinous form reflecting their lights before disappearing into the darkness. In another direction, she spotted what appeared to be a pack of creatures that might once have been human but were now twisted into something else entirely moving with coordinated purpose through the debris.
"Rakghouls" the pilot said, noting her horrified fascination. "Plague victims from ages ago. The disease mutates them into those things that are infectious, aggressive, and nearly impossible to kill. They hunt in packs and they're smart enough to set traps. It's mostly contained though, both sides have strong enough containment that no one worries."
As if summoned by his words, more movement became visible throughout the abandoned infrastructure. Creatures that defied easy classification emerged from hiding places among the debris. Some were clearly once-human forms twisted by mutation or disease, while others appeared to be artificial malfunctioning droids and automated systems that had been running unsupervised.
"The air quality down here is toxic to most organic species" the pilot continued, his hands moving across the speeder's environmental controls. "I'm sealing the cabin and switching to internal atmosphere. Don't open any windows, don't activate the air recyclers, and definitely don't go outside."
With a soft hiss, the speeder's canopy sealed completely, cutting them off from the poisonous atmosphere outside. Vaylin could immediately feel the difference as the internal air circulation system took over, providing clean breathable air while filtering out the contaminants that filled the abandoned zone.
"How do those things survive down here?" she asked, watching as more creatures moved through the toxic landscape with apparent ease.
"Adaptation" the pilot replied. "Centuries of exposure to industrial chemicals, radioactive waste, and various plagues have created populations that can thrive in conditions that would kill normal beings in minutes. They've carved out their own ecosystem in the ruins."
Behind them, their pursuit had initially faltered as the Republic speeders reached the edge of the inhabited zones. Through the rear sensors, Vaylin could see that two of the pursuing craft had stopped at the descent point, their pilots apparently unwilling to follow them into the toxic depths.
But not all of them had given up.
The Jedi speeder continued its pursuit without hesitation, followed by the heavily modified security craft and what appeared to be one additional unit that had joined the hunt. The remaining three pursuers were clearly committed to following them regardless of the environmental hazards, their determination suggesting that capturing the fugitives was worth risking exposure to the toxic wasteland.
"Persistent" the pilot observed with grudging respect. "Most Republic forces turn back at this point. They are either very dedicated or very stupid."
"Two left" Vaylin reported, watching the persistent pursuers maintain their formation despite the increasing distance.
"Not for long" the pilot replied with confidence, banking sharply around a massive geological formation that stretched from floor to ceiling of the vast cavern. "We're approaching the deep territories now. Even Jedi have limits when it comes to flying blind through unmapped wasteland at maximum velocity."
As if summoned by his words of confidence, the speeder's proximity alarms suddenly began screaming with urgent electronic warnings. Multiple new contacts appeared on their sensor display, some rising from concealed positions in the cavern depths below others descending from hidden alcoves in the ceiling above. The reinforcements had been lying in wait, coordinating their ambush through encrypted Republic channels.
"Well, kriff" the pilot cursed as energy bolts began crackling through the air around them from multiple directions. "Should have kept my mouth shut."
Vaylin couldn't help herself despite the obvious danger of their situation, she found herself giggling at the absurdity of their pilot's timing. "You jinxed it" she said, watching as their sensor display lit up with at least six new pursuit craft closing in from various angles.
The cavern erupted into a light show of blue and red energy bolts as the Republic forces opened fire from multiple vectors. Their pilot was forced into increasingly dramatic evasive maneuvers, rolling and diving through the underground landscape as stun bolts sizzled past their hull with alarming frequency.
"This is getting expensive" the pilot said through gritted teeth, pulling their speeder into a spiraling climb that used a massive stalactite for cover. "Time to call in some professional assistance."
He glanced back at Senya, his cybernetic eye whirring as it tracked multiple incoming threats while his organic eye maintained visual contact with his passengers. "Ma'am, you got another two thousand credits burning a hole in your pocket? Because I can put on quite a show for the right price."
Senya was quiet for a moment, clearly calculating the cost against their desperate situation as energy bolts continued to flash past their speeder. More contacts were appearing on the sensors as the Republic forces were throwing serious resources at their capture.
"It better be worth it" she said finally, her voice carrying the authority of someone making a life-or-death decision.
The pilot's grin was visible even through the stress of their high-speed flight through the underground maze. "Lady, you're about to see why I charge premium rates for extractions."
As they continued their descent through the abandoned infrastructure—now passing level 3995 according to the speeder's navigation display—the pilot's hands moved across his control panel with practiced efficiency. One screen came alive with communication options, and he tapped a specific frequency with the confidence of someone who had made this type of call before.
The connection was established almost immediately, crackling with the static of long-range transmission through Coruscant's dense urban interference. A gravelly voice emerged from the speakers, carrying the casual authority of someone accustomed to handling unusual requests.
"Night City Border Control speaking, what do you need?"
The pilot's response was immediate "Need to arrange a hot jump over the river. Requesting some ice for five thousand credits. Time frame is immediate we're coming in hot with significant heat behind us."
There was a pause on the other end of the line, during which Vaylin could hear the sound of data being processed and cross-referenced through various systems.
"Negative on five" the voice replied. "Conversion rate today puts it at six minimum, especially given the heat signature we're picking up on your tail. Republic forces don't usually venture this deep unless they're serious about their quarry."
Their pilot cursed creatively in what sounded like at least three different languages, his frustration evident as energy bolts continued to flash past their hull. "Fine, six it is. But you better not skimp on the coverage. I'm paying premium prices and I expect premium service!"
"Understood. Package will be deployed when you exit the tunnel. Border Control out."
The connection terminated with a soft click, leaving them alone with the sounds of their engines and the increasingly urgent proximity alarms as their pursuers continued to close the distance. They were now descending past level 3890 according to the navigation display, the ancient infrastructure around them growing ever more alien and threatening.
The pilot turned in his seat to face both Vaylin and Senya, his hands remaining on the controls even though his attention was focused entirely on his passengers.
"Don't worry about the show" he said with obvious confidence, even as their speeder rolled inverted to avoid a particularly well-coordinated barrage from their pursuers. "Should start any minute now, once we hit level thirty-five hundred. Night City takes care of its own, and anyone willing to pay for professional services."
Vaylin found herself fascinated by his casual attitude toward what was clearly an extremely dangerous situation. Energy bolts continued to flash past their hull as the Republic forces maintained their pursuit through the toxic wasteland, but their pilot seemed genuinely unconcerned about the outcome.
"What exactly did you just purchase?" Senya asked, her voice carrying the sharp edge of someone who needed to understand the tactical situation.
"Insurance" the pilot replied cryptically, executing a sharp turn that used a collapsed building for cover. "The City doesn't like it when Republic forces venture into the deep territories. Bad for business, unsettles the locals, interferes with the carefully maintained balance of power that keeps this place functioning."
As they continued their descent through the abandoned infrastructure, Vaylin could see that they were approaching something significant. The ancient caverns were giving way to structures that looked more intentional, more organized as if they were entering territory that was still actively inhabited despite the toxic environment.
Level 3600, 3550, 3520...
The navigation display continued its countdown as they approached whatever threshold their pilot had purchased for six thousand credits. Behind them, the Republic pursuit forces maintained their relentless chase, apparently unaware that they were flying into someone else's carefully controlled territory.
"Any second now" the pilot said with obvious anticipation, checking his chronometer as they passed level 3510. "Border Control doesn't disappoint paying customers."
The underground landscape around them had changed dramatically as they descended. What had been random debris and natural caverns was now organized infrastructure, ancient but maintained in a way that made a stark difference on where the border ended.
The navigation display showed level 3505 when their pilot suddenly banked hard to the left, steering them toward what appeared to be a massive tunnel entrance carved directly into the bedrock. The opening was barely visible until they were almost upon it.
"Hold tight" the pilot warned as they plunged into the tunnel. "This gets a bit narrow."
That proved to be an understatement. The tunnel walls pressed close on either side, forcing their pilot to thread the speeder through a passage that seemed designed more for maintenance droids than full-sized vehicles. The sound of metal scraping against stone filled the cabin as their hull made contact with the tunnel walls during particularly sharp turns.
Behind them, the pursuing Republic forces had no choice but to follow single-file through the constricted passage. The advantage their numbers had provided in the open caverns was now strangled by the tunnel.
I watched through the rear viewport as if it was a show as one of the security speeders misjudged a particularly sharp turn. The pilot overcorrected, slamming into the tunnel wall with enough force to rupture fuel lines. The explosion lit up the tunnel behind them like a miniature sun, the fireball consuming the speeder and creating a temporary obstruction that forced the remaining pursuers to reduce speed.
"One down" the pilot said with satisfaction, noting the explosion on his rear sensors. "That tunnel's not forgiving to poor piloting."
As they continued through the underground passage, it was hard not to notice that the quality of the tunnel's construction was improving dramatically. What had started as rough-hewn stone was giving way to finished surfaces, proper lighting, and the kind of infrastructure that suggested active maintenance and regular use. This wasn't abandoned it was a functional transportation corridor that connected the toxic wasteland above to whatever lay ahead.
The pilot began counting down in a voice that carried anticipation mixed with professional satisfaction. "Ten... nine... eight..."
Ahead of them, the tunnel was beginning to expand, its walls pulling back to reveal glimpses of something massive beyond. Warning lights began flashing along the tunnel's edges along with red strobes that painted the passage in blood-colored light and created an atmosphere of controlled danger.
"Two... one... welcome to Night City."
And there it was.
In the distance, rising from the cavern floor like something from a fever dream, stood a city that seemed to exist outside the normal rules of urban planning. Towering structures of metal and glass reached toward the invisible ceiling, their surfaces alive with millions of lights that created a constellation of human civilization in the underground darkness.
The city was surrounded by what appeared to be wasteland areas of sand and dirt that stretched between the cavern walls and the urban core, creating a buffer zone that emphasized the settlement's isolation from the outside world. Scattered across this desolate landscape were the rusted hulks of vehicles, abandoned structures
"Eight pursuers still on our tail" the pilot reported, checking his sensors as they raced across the wasteland toward the distant city. "Republic forces are nothing if not persistent."
Behind them, the surviving pursuit craft had emerged from the tunnel and were spreading out across the open terrain, taking advantage of the increased space to resume their coordinated assault. Energy bolts began crackling through the air once again as the security forces attempted to disable their speeder before it could reach the protection of the city proper.
It was at that moment that the display screen mounted in their speeder's dashboard began to flicker and stutter, static lines running across its surface before resolving into a new image. A countdown had appeared ten seconds displayed in bold red numerals that pulsed with each decreasing number.
"Here we go" the pilot said with obvious satisfaction. "Six thousand credits of professional courtesy, about to be delivered."
The countdown continued its relentless progression: Nine. Eight. Seven.
Vaylin found herself holding her breath as she watched the numbers decrease, though she had no idea what would happen when they reached zero. Behind them, the Republic forces continued their pursuit across the wasteland, apparently unaware that they were flying into carefully prepared territory.
Six. Five. Four.
"What exactly happens when—" Senya began to ask, but her question was cut off by the pilot's raised hand.
Three. Two. One.
Zero.
The response was immediate and devastating. From concealed positions throughout the wasteland, the very landscape seemed to come alive with coordinated violence. What had appeared to be empty terrain revealed itself as an elaborate network of hidden defensive positions, each one perfectly positioned to create overlapping fields of fire across the entire cavern approach.
Ground-based vehicles emerged, first modified cars and trucks that threw off camouflaged covers with mechanical precision. These weren't civilian transports but purpose-built combat vehicles, their chassis reinforced with armor plating and their roofs bristling with mounted weapon systems. Heavy machine guns, missile launchers, and energy cannons swiveled toward the Republic pursuit craft as the vehicles accelerated across the wasteland with speeds that spoke to extensive engine modifications.
But it was the aerial response that transformed the cavern into a killzone. From hidden alcoves carved into the cavern walls, sleek atmospheric vehicles launched with predatory grace.
The lead AV was a masterpiece of combat engineering. Its elongated hull tapered to deadly points at both ends, while weapon pods extended from its wings like the claws of some metallic predator. Energy cannons swiveled independently of the craft's movement, tracking multiple targets simultaneously with targeting systems that glowed with malevolent red light.
"Nomad clan vehicles on the ground" their pilot explained with obvious admiration as they watched the defensive response unfold. "Those are best desert fighters in the business. And those AVs are Arasaka design."
The coordination was flawless. Ground vehicles raced to cut off escape routes while the aerial craft established overlapping zones of fire that left the Republic forces with nowhere to maneuver. It wasn't just overwhelming firepower it was tactical artistry executed by professionals who would have made my teacher back home proud.
The first Republic speeder to die was caught in a perfectly executed pincer movement. Two Nomad vehicles approached from opposite sides while an AV descended from above, their combined fire creating a triangle of destruction that the security craft couldn't escape. Heavy cannon rounds punched through the speeder's armor while energy bolts overloaded its shields, the accumulated damage causing catastrophic power failures that sent it tumbling toward the cavern floor in a ball of flame and twisted metal.
The Jedi speeder proved more resilient, its occupants clearly using Force-enhanced reflexes to anticipate incoming fire. The craft twisted through impossible maneuvers, diving and climbing with movements that defied conventional physics as the Force-users aboard guided their pilot through the storm of weapons fire.
But even supernatural reflexes couldn't overcome the sheer volume of coordinated fire being directed at them. A quartet of AVs had formed up specifically to engage the Jedi craft, their targeting systems linked to create a web of crossfire that adapted to every evasive maneuver. Energy bolts converged from multiple angles while missile systems tracked the speeder's heat signature with relentless precision.
The end came when one of the Jedi made a tactical error, using the Force to deflect incoming energy bolts. The distinctive glow of a lightsaber activating inside the speeder's cabin was immediately detected by Night City's sensor systems, marking the craft as a priority target for every weapon system in the cavern.
The response was instantaneous. Every AV, every ground vehicle, every defensive position in the cavern focused their fire on the Jedi speeder simultaneously. The concentrated barrage lasted only seconds, but it was more than sufficient to overwhelm even Force-enhanced defenses. The speeder simply disintegrated under the assault, its component parts scattered across the wasteland in a shower of debris that glowed briefly before fading into darkness.
"Welcome to the place where credits matter more than citizenship" their pilot said as they approached the city's leaving the sound of gunfire behind them "and where the Republic's authority ends at the tunnel entrance."