Scattered debris of thousands of fighter craft littered the orbital pull of the city-planet of Coruscant. Hulking hulls of both Confederacy and Republic capital ships and cruisers appeared as decrepit derelicts from an ancient war. Ric Olié piloted the Falcon across the durasteel remnants of an obliterated Confederate frigate that sparked remaining electrical life from its exposed conduits drifting like an ominous ghost ship. Once stalwart ships died in the orbital planes as the Second Battle of Coruscant concluded.
A trio of droid tri-fighters rocked the Millennium Falcon followed by a pair of Republic ARC-170 fighters locked in attack position. The quintuplet craft continued by the forward cockpit as the ARC 170s fired hues of amber and crimson laser fire into the hulls of the Confederate snub fighters. The Republic Victory-class Star Destroyer Guarlara loomed in the distance, presiding over the descending stern of the Confederate flagship, Invisible Hand as the stern consumed into an atmospheric fire.
"Confederate ships, at the capital?" Teek shouted.
"Appears so, looks like we missed the bulk of the battle," Ric proclaimed, "Looks like we won," pointing to the collapsing debris of the Invisible Hand.
He glided the Falcon through a tangled web of fighter slivers and floating clone pilots as the more intact Confederate craft begin to flee into hyperspace.
"I hope that we can deliver this message to Senator Amidala in time. That is if Palpatine has not declared outright martial law and Empire as a result of this battle."
"If that recording is as important as the Jedi will find it to be, for your sake, I hope you're right, Teek." Olié concluded.
A brief crackle interrupted over the comm.
"This is Republic flagship Guarlara to approaching Jabiim freighter Twilight Sliver; do you have a security clearance for this sector?"
Ric Olié disguised the transponder signature shortly before take off from Dagobah to not alert the Republic craft of their true origin.
"We are on a diplomatic urgency to deliver a message to Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo," Ric responded, "We don't need a security clearance. We seek diplomatic asylum from Jabiim into Naboo. We request an audience with Her Honor."
"You are of Separatist hostility, and we will open fire if you do not turn back!"
"They're not falling for it." Teek muttered from the co-pilot seat.
Rité, sitting behind Teek reached through the Force toward the Guarlara. She shut her senses to the surrounding environment focusing into the bodies of the ship inside the bridge reaching into the captain's mind. Warmth overcame Rité's body as her influence toiled on the commanding officer; her abilities were still maturing however she had a feel towards her teachings.
"You may enter Coruscanti airspace as needed, captain." The Guarlara coaxed.
"Thank you. See, I told you they'd buy it." Ric Olié turned to the doubting Teek.
Rité opened a grin behind the pair as neither suspected her influence. The Falcon glided into the atmospheric pull of the city-planet rocking under the frictions induced by the massive forces of the air. Waves of plasma slinked across the Falcon's cockpit like strings of molten glass during descent. The massive, multi-layered city began to arrive into view amidst the artificial clouds and atmosphere. Exiting the friction pull, the Falcon drifted towards a mass of nimbus clouds. Precipitation bounced like quaint specks onto the cockpit windows giving the Falcon a much-needed wash from the swampy contrast of Dagobah. The Falcon descended further amongst the cityscape that appeared to Teek as spires of artificial stalagmites. The Coruscant skyline stretched for miles on end into infinity. The amber, ethereal glow of Coruscant's star bounced from the skyline as a river of golden lava.
Teek had never left Naboo, and to see the capital planet of the Republic left him in awe. This is where the Republic thrived, the heart of the galaxy. Rows of buildings as far as he could see overcame him as they glistened from the reflecting sun as the Falcon weaved around buildings to avoid collision. Streams of transports glided above and below the Falcon's perspective in a furious attempt to reach their destinations.
Ahead, the gargantuan, bulbous rotunda of the Senate Building eclipsed the surrounding city. The building appeared as a giant mushroom sprouting from an ornately decorated Avenue of the Founders while hundreds of ships littered the skies around the architecture. A massive undertaking indeed, Teek thought. Four spires protruded from the edges of the building as communications relays. Diminutive workers sprawled across the docking bays on the outer edges of the rotunda that consumed the circumference.
A goldenrod transport craft appeared in front of the Falcon faceted with a multitude of windows through which Teek could barely make out as the Falcon was directed into a landing bay below this transport's destination. Rité focused her attention towards the landing bay ahead of them. Ric Olié, a master pilot glided the craft intently into the assigned bay. Rité's Force urges directed her toward the transport above them as the images of the two Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker fluttered her mind.
"They're here." She muttered.
"Who's here?" Teek replied, revolving toward Rité's pastel, freckled skin. Rité tried to conceal her thoughts from the others.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi and his pupil, Anakin Skywalker, they're on that transport above us."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive." Rité said nothing more, concealing the information.
"Anakin Skywalker? A Jedi knight? I remember when he was but an inquisitive young lad." Ric input, "My how time flies."
Ric eased the landing struts into place to steady the Falcon into a docking procedure. Worker droids scrambled to place a refueling hose into the Falcon's fueling port. Other droids scrambled around with welding tools and other materials to aid in any other necessary repairs. Outside the viewing canopy, Ric Olié had noticed an old friend. Wearing the drab grey of the non-clone officers of the Republic Navy and the rank insignia of a Commodore stood a rugged man of dark complexion, Captain Panaka stood a few hundred meters in front of the craft. The glimmer of finely polished, raven boots capped off his commanding presence as he quickly clamped into an attentive stance with his hands behind his back.
The Falcon's landing ramp whined to a thud on the durasteel bay. Ric Olié exited first, followed by Teek and Rité. The artificially created breezes whipped her fiery hair in a display of majestic flame. The winds had also traveled the repugnant odor of Dagobah's marsh from their soiled tunics across the contrasting decks. Other humans nearby had held their noses as the whiff of Dagobah penetrated them while other sentients of equally harsh worlds breathed in what appeared as a sweet smelling aroma. A mixture of reactions greeted the travelers as they approached Captain Panaka on the landing bay.
"Ric Olié I presume? Look at you, you old pilot." Panaka greeted with a sense of nostalgia.
"You are correct Panaka. When did you become part of the Republic Navy?"
"When I left Naboo shortly after the Clone Wars began."
The two embraced in a handshake followed by a single-arm hug. Panaka clasped the right shoulder of Olié's rugged tunics as the two continued to reflect upon their pasts.
"Senator Amidala has received your request for urgency from Governor Bibble, I presume there is something of necessity to give her?" Panaka questioned Teek.
"Yes Captain Panaka," Teek replied struggling to fit a raven lock back into place from his bouncing onto his forehead.
"I'm not a Captain in the Republic Navy," Panaka joked, "Shortly after my heroics at the Battle of Jabiim, the Chancellor promoted me to Commodore."
"Very well then, Commodore." Olié grinned.
"Come then, I will take you two to Amidala. Ric, if you would stay with the ship?"
"Certainly. There are some repairs I will need to address anyway."
Ric Olié returned toward the Falcon, crankily ordering two droids away from welding any conduits in repair. Panaka and the young pair entered a doorway leading into the greater Senate building. E3-T4's shell lay on a hover-platform escorted out by two worker droids; the dome still scarred by torched solder joints and frayed wires. Olié examined the metallic carcass, ordering the worker droids to leave the droid with him.
A fine piece of Naboo machinery should not have been corrupted from a simple reprogram, he felt. Examining the wreckage of the former droid, a solder joint appeared out of place. The programming core reeked of acrid electricity which Olié studied further.
"The memory wasn't wiped, he was purposely sabotaged. That blasted Hutt-slave didn't even try to alter his memory core, she purposely destroyed it!" Olié muttered. Wire spaghetti impeded his removal of the memory core for further examination.
"Could she have also changed the navcomputer codes? She purposely wanted us to go to Dagobah or another planet. But why?"
Ric wiped his wrinkled brow in confusion. A suspicion arose in his mind about Rité but he could not warn Teek for there was no time. His only hope resided that Panaka still acted as an agent of Amidala's for necessities concerning Naboo.