Lina Soh rested the palm of her hand on the rough surface of Umate, the tallest peak of the Manarai range. The mountain’s summit was some twenty meters above her head, and its base was somewhere 5,216 levels below, at the very bottom of the city-world that was Coruscant. This was the one spot left on the planet where its original topography could be seen. Farther below, the mountain’s structure had been incorporated into the city, becoming a sort of hive of tunnels and passageways and chambers surfaced by durasteel and permacrete, barely distinguishable from other parts of the planet. But here, a bit of wildness remained.

People from all over the Republic came to Monument Plaza to see Umate, and many did as Lina Soh had—felt its surface and took a moment for reflection. A darkened ring around the peak’s base served as evidence of the countless hands that had touched it over the generations. All those minds, all that sentience, all those many perspectives. Umate meant different things to different beings—endurance, the imperturbability of nature despite the efforts of sentient beings to remake the galaxy, even just the novelty of a natural thing in an artificial world.

To Lina Soh, chancellor of the great Republic that was bringing light to the galaxy’s many worlds, stitching them together into an enlightened union in which anything was possible, Umate meant…choice.

The city-world’s planners could have removed the mountain at any point in its millennia of history, but generation after generation had not. They had repeatedly made the decision—the choice—to preserve this one place, this one thing. Many political systems had claimed Coruscant in its day, from brutal empires to the purest democracies, but all had chosen to keep Umate as it was, Monument Plaza climbing upward century by century as new levels were added to the city’s surface.

Progress was inevitable and crucial, but was not the only goal. Mindfulness was also important. Choice.

Chancellor Soh stepped back from the mountain. She turned away. Matari and Voru lifted their great heads and stepped toward her, the huge, beautiful beasts sensing her mood and knowing she was ready to move on. The two targons—twins, a red male and a yellow female, both taller than she was with thick fur and tufted ears—took their accustomed stations at her side, keeping pace as she moved away from Umate. The giant cats accompanied her everywhere, acting as guards, companions, even sounding boards. She often spoke aloud to them as she worked through ideas or plans. The creatures did not understand her words, but targons had low-level empathic abilities, as unusual as that was in a predator species. Matari and Voru might not comprehend…but they understood. More than anything else, the creatures were utterly loyal. Lina worked in politics. Loyalty was the quality she valued above all else.