Star Wars_ Coruscant Nights II Streets of Shadows - Michael Reaves [55]
Its shape sustained by powerful tractor and pressor fields, the Aquala Tower rose only a modest distance into the sky—but it was composed entirely of water. Nonaquatic visitors could don underwater breathing gear at the top or bottom and swim through multiple levels of real sea life, while citizens from water-breathing worlds could relax and enjoy the scenery without being burdened by specialized hydrorespiratory equipment.
The greatest companies in the galaxy constantly competed to create corporate headquarters that were the most spectacular, the most innovative, and the most recognizable on Imperial Center. Mobolo Machines’ office complex consisted of half a dozen sky-towers in constant slow motion. Demonstrating the proficiency of its product line, Kiskar Repulsorlifts’ headquarters floated exactly five meters off the ground. Anyone could walk underneath the enormous structure and marvel at the power and technology that kept it not only aloft but also in the same exact position, day after day.
Captain Typho stepped out of an airtaxi on the fringe of a structural complex that was not as tall as certain cloudcutters, not as elaborate as most commercial centers, and not as eclectic as the majority of Coruscant’s great entertainment venues. Notwithstanding a deliberate architectural modesty, the buildings that stretched out before him were in their way some of the most impressive on the planet, for they constituted the bureaucratic hives of the Imperial government.
For the headquarters of his civil service divisions, the Emperor had chosen to adapt and modify an existing business complex. Ostensibly this was done to save time and money. The actual purpose was to divert attention from the many interior modifications installed, some of which would have appalled the few long-established citizens’ rights groups still extant under the New Order.
From the outside the group of office structures retained their original innocuous, unprepossessing appearance. Within, they had been customized out of all recognition. In addition to a highly secure and specialized prison designed to temporarily hold dangerous and politically sensitive detainees, there was a complete medcenter intended to provide the best available care to the Imperial staff. Living quarters boasted varying degrees of opulence; the most modern and efficient communications facilities kept the new government in touch with its vast, far-flung member worlds, colonies, and allies. As with the Imperial Palace itself, there were redundant life-support systems capable of sustaining a habitable environment indefinitely. If necessary, the extensive compound could function without any contact with the outside world, which meant that, should the rest of Imperial Center fall into chaos and collapse, the Imperial offices would continue to function.
As he entered, Typho was impressed but not awed. The purpose that drove him, that had brought him here all the way from Naboo, was bigger than any building, more powerful than any threat, and exalted his spirits higher than the crown of any cloudcutter.
Once inside, he slipped into a steady stream of visitors. While the flow was more or less orderly, representatives from a majority of the civilized worlds occasionally jostled and pushed for position. No one came to this place for leisure; everyone was engaged in business of one form or another that required their personal, as opposed to holographic, presence. Typho understood this quite well. His own concern certainly warranted it. Revenge was not a matter best conducted from a distance.
Though the complex was enormous, it was designed to allow visitors and employees to carry out their assignments or complete their work within