Jubilation sweeps across the liberty loving peoples of the galaxy. A tyrant has been vanquished. The tides of the Galactic Civil War have turned. Reeling from the strategic and symbolic defeat at the Battle of Endor and the intertwined demise of both the herald and standard bearer of the New Order, Emperor Palpatine and Lord Vader, the forces of the Empire are fractured and vulnerable. Dissidents whisper in the shadows on Coruscant, Corellia and much of the rest of the Core have already openly stressed their Independent Sovereignties. Entire Sectors declared independence and shrugged off Imperial rule the moment the news of Endor broke.
Dac had been free for a few years since about the time of the Battle of Hoth. The local sentients did what most others in the galaxy could not, reclaim their planet from Imperial oppression. Since then they have made their homeworld the defacto home of the Rebellion and subsequently, the Alliance of Free Planets and New Republic. While a world of oceans, it was the rock of the Alliance. The threat of reprisal constantly loomed over the people of Dac. While their powerful homegrown star fleet could stand up to most any Regional Imperial Fleet, a full fledged invasion force could prove overwhelming. The delicate balance of time and logistics however, inevitably proved to be on the Mon Cal's side.
The Calamari were superior strategists and analysts. A tedious and methodical bunch with innate technological comprehension and craftsmanship. It reflected in the grand structure of their magnificent floating cities as much as it did in their beloved starcruisers. Supported by a complex intricate series of incredibly scaled repulsorlifts, not unlike the massive engines that keep Cloud City on Bespin aloft, millions and millions of metric tons and cubic meters of architecture lay gracefully suspended either on or above the waves. Entire sentient built land masses and settlements up to several square kilometers each. One of significant size may have hundreds of repulsor drives. Several of these hulking masses grouped together to form cities, dozens to form larger urban concentrations, and hundreds to form the capitol, Coral City.
It's structures ranged in height from a few to dozens and some even hundreds of levels. They tended to be streamline and mostly seem less, rounded, cylindrical or conical. Largely enclosed and clustered together as interconnected buildings of varying size, usually only with odd numbers of them in one group. Large garden or park areas keep comfortable distances between all clusters of structures. They feature wide ranges of local and imported flora, and usually even naturally fed pools, ponds or lakes with their own entire constructed ecosystems. Roads are laid out almost exclusively as either straight-aways or round-abouts and are always divided one-ways. Giant causeways connect it's numerous platforms. In rough seas, the city stays suspended safe distance above up to two hundred meters as one unit, while some sections can actually detach and levitate much higher. When the ocean is relatively tame, it descends to a perceived state of floating, though actually heavily supported by repulsors. Of the two hundred and thirty nine separate platforms or Districts that make up Coral City, one hundred and fifty one are residential and commercial, forty-nine are industrialized, twenty three are administrative and sixteen are military.
The city was normally an orderly almost seemingly orchestrated affair, but the Alliance victory at Endor has brought all the expected fanfare. A city-wide festival atmosphere has sprung up instantaneously. While it was declared to run initially for three days in honor of each of the cities sunk by the Empire, it has gone for the last seven days solid. Around the Administrative Districts, representatives from many worlds have flocked to Dac by droves in the last few days. An endless stream of diplomatic mission shuttle traffic proceeds in and out of the city's starports, bringing dignitaries with a range of purpose from outward pledges of allegiance and support to legitimate disputes looking for intervention accompanied by tepid commitment or even the occasional blatant handout request. For the Calamari, their crowning achievement Coral City was proudly on display to the galaxy. For the New Republic, it was a chance to show it's strength while still taking it's first slow trembling breaths.
Days ago, Mon Mothma and the Alliance Council issued a proclamation. It stated that the Rebellion had come to an end. The Usurper of the Grand Republic had been defeated and his regime left crumbling. The Alliance to Restore the Republic was dissolved and replaced by the transitional body, the Alliance of Free Planets, with Mon Calamari as it's Capitol until the inevitable recapture of Coruscant from the remnants of the Empire. The transitional nature and purpose of this confederacy being confronting the bureaucracy between the idea of and the realization of The New Republic. The new Alliance set to work to swiftly craft a new Galactic Government. The Rebel Alliance military wing however, took to the task of organizing and endorsing it's new form immediately. . .
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The Military Districts were bustling and congested, overpopulated and bursting at the seems. A state of celebration reigned, much like the rest of the City, but still driven by task, the business of conducting a new phase of the War persisted. Smaller nearby residential districts were temporarily requisitioned to serve as barracks to house and process the tens of thousands of volunteers that flooded the planet and city in the last several days. Foodstuffs had to be shipped in from as far away as Chandrila to feed the "Over Night Army".
Slews of supply ships and transports careened in and out of numerous loading docks on the outskirts of the massive city-supporting platforms from dawn til dusk and well in to the evening. The seas were rough today. Accordingly, Coral City sat comfortably suspended several dozen meters above the surface, but as night slowly swept in over the floating urban swell and fledgling galactic capitol and the shimmering orange sun reluctantly slid behind the horizon, the waters calmed and the City descended, riding along the gently rolling currents of Dac in to the night.
While the Residential and Commercial districts tended to be mostly Mon Calamari, the Military and Administrative areas catered much more to the vast array of tastes and sense of the many prominent galactic races. A quaint little booth in the most remote corner of one of the many packed, loud, neon-light, conspicuous cantinas offered refuge for a tired veteran officer, down to his last trigger days, having fulfilled a pledge held sacred and contemplating life after service.
The locale was a reputed low key establishment for relaxed sitting, catering exclusively to Officers and featuring high end drinks, entertainment, gambling, and unofficially, women. Each consecutive empty glass had found it's way, top side down, to the table a bit sloppier than the last with an increasingly forceful clank and ring, but the Sullustan sputtering of his compatriot somehow got a little bit easier to understand, or so it seemed.
"Muuka Du Norolo?" the familiar and faithful Sullustan, Captain Geet Urura, asked Calgan, while merrily handling a third or fourth mug of his own preferred intoxicating brew and full of visible self-satisfaction. Their history went back to the Battle of Hoth, since then Urura has served beneath Verose and risen through the ranks in tandem.
"What now?" Calgan rhetorically began as he leant back, kicking a leg up across the bench style seat and folding his arms and hands back behind his head.
It all flashed through his mind in the span of a few moments- the emptiness and pain of the total loss of a life left behind on Alderaan, the years of war that followed in search of something more personal, the comraderie, the brotherhood, the satisfaction of blood, the loss of more family, the Battles of Kalaan, Fresia, Yavin 4, Restuss, Turkana, Hoth, and ultimately the Vengeance of Endor, still fresh in the nostrils from just several days ago. Yet now, still, amidst the atmosphere of victory and celebration, the emptiness remains. The satisfaction is already fleeting.
"Nothing. It's over for me Captain." he said plainly.
The Sullustan deflected the seriousness of his tone with a jest and attempt at pronouncing Basic, "Mooba Mooba, ekolo shun. .'BEEFOORREE'"
An ewok sized crab like Server Droid skittered up to the booth interrupting them, one of it's claw like appendages placing an overflowing frothy warm mixture in front of Calgan. He shifted posture to reach forward and draw the drink closer for a sip. The crab droid released a barrage of annoyed sounding clicks and ticks before he'd remembered to pull a small Electronic Fob from his lapel and allow the droid to scan it, charging his account.
The Sullustan pursued the friendly taunt, physically struggling to sound out Basic syllables before bursting in to an almost snorting kind of laughter, "'HUUURD BEEFOORREE!, NYUK NYUK NYUK NYUK NYUK!"
Calgan smirked and conceded the point while sharing in the laughter, as a third party approached the two friends, inviting himself for a seat. . . To Be Continued!!!
