Every time Amir lay here gazing down at the planet below, he found himself once again captivated by its allure.
A city-planet, Coruscant was covered entirely in towering skyscrapers, some of which pierced through the atmosphere. At the bottom, tangled and decaying layers festered in rot and corruption.
The upper levels fed off the nutrients of the lower, flourishing like overgrown branches.
Amir came from the lower levels, but thanks to his outstanding aptitude, he had been selected by the Imperial Academy. That was the only reason he now lay on this space station, looking down upon the neon ocean of the surface. Still, his thoughts always wandered.
"Amir, slacking off again? Curfew's about to hit—better get moving." A tall man stepped onto the platform, clad in a fitted black flight uniform that made his figure appear even more upright and commanding. This was Kain Davidson, Amir's fellow cadet and an exceptional pilot.
"Done with your extra training, golden boy?" Amir teased.
"The new TIE fighters are insane. Missed this chance and who knows when I'll get another. I'd sleep in the cockpit if I could," Kain grinned sheepishly. Amir knew he wasn't joking.
"Just one more year and we'll be doing fleet internships—not just stuck on this station. You'll definitely get your pilot assignment. Then you'll really get to fly to your heart's content," Amir said with a smile.
He stood up. Though also in a black uniform, Amir appeared leaner than Kain's muscular build, yet he stood just as tall. His golden hair and blue eyes, coupled with his languid tone and gestures, gave him a charm all his own.
Kain scratched his short black hair, smiling awkwardly.
"Come on, let's head back to the dorms," Amir said, walking into the station. Kain followed out of habit.
Behind him, Kain rubbed his palms against his pants repeatedly, as if debating something. For such a tall guy, it made him seem a bit silly.
"I know what you're going to say. All this constant training is exhausting. I might as well quit and go back to Coruscant, open a lazy repair shop, and hire a couple of Twi'lek babes," Amir said, stretching with a carefree grin. "If you ever retire, come be my deputy manager."
Kain chuckled helplessly and gave up on trying to convince him.
Chatting along the way, they returned to the dorms. Amir climbed into his bunk, a cramped little space just big enough to lie down in. To him, a bed where you couldn't even roll over was unacceptable. Every time he slid in, he couldn't help but grumble at the Empire's extreme utilitarianism. Everything was built for efficiency. Comfort? Not something Imperial soldiers needed.
Lying in that narrow space, Amir found it hard to fall asleep.
A long-buried memory was becoming clearer. He had once been a perfectly average young man from a blue planet—a Chinese son of Yan and Huang. Somehow, by a twist of fate, he had been transported into this world. He grew up normally here, but gradually began to recover memories of his previous life.
These resurfacing memories gave him a constant sense of disconnection from reality. Who was he, really? He closed his eyes and saw a hospital bed—his deathbed from a past life, taken by liver cancer before the age of twenty.
After much contemplation, Amir finally came to terms with who he was. He was both the man from his past life and this native son of Coruscant. Every experience, from both lives, made him who he was now.
And from those past memories, he realized exactly where he was: the Star Wars universe.
He'd only seen a few movies and spin-off shows, so his past-life knowledge of this world was less than what he'd learned as a native over the past sixteen years. At best, he knew the broad strokes of the main storyline.
It was now ten years before the Battle of Yavin. The Clone Wars had ended roughly a decade ago. Under the rule of Emperor Palpatine, the Empire had crushed the Confederacy of Independent Systems and transformed the Galactic Republic into the Galactic Empire, reigning over the entire galaxy.
The next ten years were destined to be turbulent. From what Amir remembered and knew, the Empire was deeply rooted in power, with its colossal fleets and countless supporters. There was no way he would have believed that in just a decade, the Empire would be toppled by the now obscure Rebel Alliance.
Thinking back on the films, the Empire's brutal massacres of innocent species, the destruction of peaceful, disarmed planets, the enslavement of the kind, the corrupt regime in its later years, and the rampant space piracy—all of it made Amir grow increasingly disgusted with the Empire.
Two years at the Imperial Academy had exposed him even more to the Empire's darkness. His original intent for joining had never been pure, and now, he had lost all desire to become an Imperial soldier.
He'd made up his mind: drop out of the academy, live as an ordinary citizen of Coruscant, maybe help out the Mels family who had raised him.
The next morning, a troop transport flew from the station to the Imperial Academy on Coruscant. That day, Amir officially submitted his withdrawal.
Three days later, as Amir had long been planning this, and with a rather average academic record, his departure was accepted without much resistance. Like countless other discarded soldiers, he carried his bag into the dazzling city.
Only Kain stood at the gates, watching his silhouette for a long time.
The surface of Coruscant was a sea of flickering signs. Restaurants, bars, and shops of all kinds clustered together. Hidden organizations lurked deep below the surface, like pieces of a vast puzzle forming a monstrous whole.
Life of all kinds bustled through the airways and streets. Humans were the majority, but many species mingled among them—Duros with huge blood-red eyes, Ishi Tib with mouths on either side of their necks, and even little robed Jawas. The din of languages was an unrelenting chaos pouring into Amir's ears.
He smiled. This was the planet's charm—an orderly chaos born of infinite species, thriving commerce, robust industry, and the political and economic heart of the Empire. Yet beneath that shiny veneer, there was endless confusion and helplessness.
"Feels kinda cyberpunk," Amir muttered to himself.
He weaved through the twisting alleys, heading downward. The maze-like terrain was etched into his mind. He'd roamed these districts more times than he could count.
Eventually, on the third sublevel, he reached a narrow metal door. He pressed a button, and with the sound of gears sliding, the alloy door opened. Amir stepped inside.
"Amir?!" A surprised voice called out. A human woman greeted him and took his bag. "You're back already? Academy gave you a vacation?"
"Sis Pierre, I got kicked out. My wounded soul needs some comforting," Amir said with mock sorrow, spreading his arms wide.
But Pierre, long used to his antics, ignored him completely. She set his bag down, tossed him a wrench, and said, "Well, if you're not in school, you can help me out."
"Where's Big Mels and Little Mels?" Amir asked, grabbing the wrench and walking toward a speeder bike. Without waiting for a reply, he muttered, "Did this bike go swimming in acid? It's hideous..."
"Sein went to get parts. No clue where Little Mels ran off to," Pierre replied with a smile.
Amir gave a casual hum and started repairing the bike, grabbing and installing parts with practiced ease. A lifetime of exposure, two years at the Imperial Academy, and perhaps some innate talent had given him an extraordinary gift with machines.
Pierre didn't interfere. She simply watched as Amir worked. She remembered the six-year-old Amir, who had escaped the orphanage and watched her assemble droids in this very shop. From taking him in as an apprentice to sending him to the academy—Pierre was more of a mother than a sister. Her bond with him was no different than the one she shared with Little Mels.
"I really want to give this thing a makeover. From now on, Sein can handle ugly bikes like this. Just looking at it gives me goosebumps," Amir groaned after finishing the repair and testing the engine.
Just then, a blue-skinned Twi'lek entered the shop, pushing a crate on a repulsorlift. With long head-tails, a strong build, and dark workwear, he laughed heartily, then wrapped Amir in a bear hug.
"Heard you were back! Couldn't take the military life, huh? Looking for some freedom?"
"You know me best, Sein. Once I run this shop, I'll make sure to take care of you," Amir joked.
"Enough of that. Come with me—I've got something awesome to show you!" Sein said excitedly, dragging Amir toward the back of the warehouse.
Amir exchanged a knowing smile with Pierre, then followed.
Behind the warehouse doors lay mountains of parts. Off to the side sat a red-painted speeder bike—sleek, vibrant, completely different in style from the others. If it weren't for the silent engine, Amir might've struck a dramatic pose and called himself a street racer.
He'd built this bike from scraps years ago. Despite its solid performance, its standout feature was its striking appearance—which Little Mels had envied for ages.
"Can't believe my 'Cola' survived Little Mels' mischief. Guess he's been behaving," Amir commented. Cola was the bike's name.
"He stopped riding it after you chased him for a mile for scratching the paint," Sein said, urging Amir forward. "Come on—this one's the real deal!"
Amir rolled his eyes. Sein was always dragging junk into the shop and treating it like treasure. He and Pierre had long gotten used to it.
In the corner, covered with a gray tarp, sat what looked like a starfighter.
"No way... is that a fighter?" Amir's eyes lit up. "Fix it up and let me take it out for a spin?"
"Heh. Guess again," Sein grinned as he dramatically whipped off the tarp like unveiling a masterpiece in a museum.
"Tada! A Jedi starfighter! Snatched it from the scrapyards on Bracca," Sein boasted, completely missing Amir's eye-roll.
"This thing's at least a decade old and completely outdated. Fix it up and it still won't outrun a cloud car," Amir laughed. "And you call it a treasure? Hah!"
"It's nostalgia, man! I grew up on Jedi stories. During the war, Anakin Skywalker and the wise Obi-Wan Kenobi were my heroes. Even if we lost..."
Sein gazed at the rusted relic before him—the chipped paint, aged components, shattered canopy.
"Who didn't have childhood dreams?" Amir said, a bit moved. Caught in the moment, he declared, "Sure, it's a piece of junk, but maybe—just maybe—we can fix it!"
In that moment, their eyes met with a mutual, wordless resolve.
One hour later, staring at the massive pile of scrap, both men fell silent.