Jedi Insurgency 214 (Interlude 22)

Whilst Corvus was busy blackmailing CEO's, and stealing blueprints, a historical meeting at the Senate was taking place. 

Thousands of repulsorpods hovered in concentric rings beneath the great dome of the Galactic Senate building, their occupants murmuring in low, expectant voices. The light of Coruscant’s endless city filtered through the transparisteel above, refracting into a golden haze.

At the center platform, a lone figure stood.

Emperor Palpatine, cloaked in black, hands folded within his sleeves, stood hunched, yet defiant. 

The old man allowed the murmurs to grow, until, with a subtle wave of his hand, a suffocating aura that demanded obedience spread throughout the crowd. Only when every whisper had died did he begin to speak.

“My loyal citizens…my devoted Senators…my beloved galaxy.”

His voice carried effortlessly, rich and measured, amplified not merely by technology, but by something far more insidious. 

The Darkside. 

It wrapped around the chamber, coiling into every ear with velvet temptations. 

“For two months, we have mourned.”

A subtle gesture of his hand, and the central holo-display flickered to life. Short videos of destruction appeared. Of twisted durasteel, shattered towers, and smoke clawing endlessly into the sky. The scene depicted showed the ruined skyline of Coruscant.

“Two months have passed since innocent lives were stolen, families torn apart, and our beloved capital was scarred once again by an act of unimaginable violence.”

Palpatine lowered his head, as if each and every death personally affected him, his tone softened, and was full of aching melancholy, like the voice a man might speak with when eulogizing his best and only friend. 

“And I…have shared in that grief. You have seen the cost etched upon me. Not even the surgeries of the recent weeks have incurred me to the worry I feel for this body's citizens.” 

The hood dipped slightly, revealing his pale, ravaged features beneath. A collective murmur rippled outward. Whether born of pity, fear, or something more complicated, it did not matter. It served its purpose.

“But today…” His voice rose, steadying. Strength replacing sorrow. “Today, I bring you clarity.”

The holoprojector shimmered, showing a battered, one armed, dark skinned figure. His long white dreads were dirty, and hung over his face making him look like an insane homeless man. 

Bound in energy restraints, Mace Windu's broken figure was illuminated. Although on the surface he appeared weak, and defeated, one glance, and anyone could tell his spirit was strong. That this man was a threat. Someone who could bring violence upon someone else at a moment's notice. 

Gasps broke across the Senate floor like distant thunder as the various politicians recognized this high profile Jedi. 

“The architect of this atrocity has been found. The assassin who deformed me so, who brought down no less than thirty skyscrapers, slaughtering 5 million innocents has been reigned in. ”

Palpatine stepped forward, his presence swelling to fill the chamber.

“The Master of the Jedi Order, rots, like the rat he is. Justice. My friends, shall be his fate. Justice for the poor, justice for the unfortunate, justice for all! ” Palpatine said, raising his hands high, allowing the sleeves of his robe to retract, and showed pale scars on his thin arms. 

His words coiled into righteous fury, sending the Senate floor into a rapturous applause. The building shook as Palpatine coaxed the foolish politicians to dance to the strum of his tune. As they settled down, Palpatine took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and then said the name of that most heinous of Jedi once more. Simply speaking it, any viewer could tell that the Emperor was like a rape victim saying the name of his assailant. 

“Mace Windu…” Palpatine slowly dragged out, each syllable was like ground glass leaving his throat. 

The name echoed, repeated by a hundred whispers, each one carrying a little more disbelief, a little more anger. Women watching this speech from across the galaxy all clenched their fists, or stared at that image of Windu with hatred in their hearts. The once handsome Palpatine-a dream man for any well read, college educated activist-had barely regained his charm due to multiple surgeries, yet one needed only look into his sincere eyes to see that the pain of that day haunted him months later. 

“Mace Windu has done irreparable harm to millions by his own hand, yet those are what everyone has seen openly. For years, the Jedi Order cloaked itself in virtue, in false humility. They spoke of peace, yet hoarded power. They claimed to serve you, whilst plotting in the shadows.”

His gaze swept across the pods, as if meeting each pair of eyes individually.

“And when their ambitions were threatened…when they manufactured this war with the Jedi, Count Dooku, they revealed their true nature. It was only thanks to my heir and friend, Anakin Skywalker, the newly reborn, Darth Vader, that we survived this latest Jedi plot.” 

The holo shifted again, this time showcasing footage of the death defying duel that took place on Coruscant. Several scenes were heavily edited, deleting Palpatine's presence completely, and showed Vader in his wretched armor protecting buildings, and taking damage in defense of a group of school children. Windu, meanwhile, had a deranged look on his face, as if he wanted to feast upon the blood of those younglings. 

“It was only through the courage and unwavering loyalty of Lord Vader-my enforcer, my protector, my adopted son-that this traitor was brought to justice.”

A measured swell of applause began, it was tentative at first, then growing as Palpatine inclined his head ever so slightly, as though reluctant to accept praise even as he orchestrated it.

“Where others faltered…he stood firm. Where chaos threatened this great planet, he restored order. Lord Vader even now crusades across the galaxy in the name of freedom. Nar Shaddaa, the corrupt den of thieves has suffered a humiliating defeat at his hands. The Hutts, like the Jedi shall no longer lord over the common man, this I promise you!” 

The applause became thunderous at that. Many Senators were extremely wealthy, or represented multiple interests. Without criminal elements squeezing them on the side, their wealth, power, and influence was sure to rise. 

Palpatine raised a hand, and silence returned instantly.

“My friends…we stand at a crossroads.” His voice lowered, becoming intimate. “We can allow this wound dealt by the Jedi to fester…to divide us…to weaken the unity we have fought so hard to build…or we can heal.”

His last word lingered, heavy with the promise of a brighter tomorrow. 

“And healing…requires justice.”

The holo-image of Windu flickered once more, bound and defiant.

“This man, this traitor who dared to strike at the heart of our civilization, who disfigured your Emperor, who sought to plunge us back into war…Will. Be. Executed.” His voice was soft, yet full of conviction. At the very end, Palpatine's final three words were stated with definitive resolution. 

“The sentence shall be carried out in seven days’ time, on the anniversary of the attack on Geonosis. That was the day when the Jedi first ignited this unnecessary conflict. When Mace Windu led the attack on the Geonosian arena, and colluded with Count Dooku to drag this galaxy into war, he had no clue that we would become aware of his treachery! He thought we were stupid! And now, we shall mark Windu's duplicitous folly as the date of his reckoning!” 

Waves of applause came, but Palpatine was on a roll, and continued to speak. 

“There shall be no more fear. No more uncertainty. No more Jedi.”

His voice then swelled to become grand, magnetic, absolute.

“Only order.” He gestured to the left. 

“Only peace.” He gestured to the right. 

“Only…the Empire.” Palpatine finally said, raising both hands high. 

The Senate floor shook with applause, a roaring tide of voices swept into unity. Pods drifted, lights flared, and the great machine of governance bent around the will of one man.

At the center of it all, Emperor Palpatine stood unmoving.

And though his expression remained solemn, dignified, there was, for the briefest moment, a smile underneath his hooked nose. 

The applause swelled like a tidal wave.

It rolled through the Senate Rotunda in thunderous crescendos, repulsorpods drifting as their occupants rose, some shouting, others simply basking in the certainty that had just been handed to them. Order. Justice. Peace. The words lingered in the air like incense.

At the center, Emperor Palpatine stood unmoved, absorbing it all: every cheer, every ounce of devotion fueled his ego. 

This was control.

This was triumph.

This was what he had fought for ever since he first stepped onto the path of the Sith. 

And then, when the heedy breath of power had reached its peak, she chose to interrupt. 

“Order? Peace? Forgive me, Emperor Palpatine, but the galaxy is at war.” 

The voice was soft, and was neither angry, nor did it come across as petty or narrowminded. It cut effortlessly through the sycophantic applause. 

Several people stopped clapping, and like a ‘record scratch moment’ at a party where everything suddenly becomes awkward, silence once more returned to the venue. This time, there was no aura of control, or solemn sanctity. Instead, this silence was filled with confusion, dread, and in some cases, consideration. 

Heads turned. Pods shifted. And Palpatine loyalists groaned to themselves as the most annoying Senator made herself known. 

At the edge of the Senate floor, a single platform began to slowly rise. Standing inside was a figure many had thought died due to some Jedi plot, however, the fact remained that this beautiful woman was none other than: 

Padmé Amidala.

A collective intake of breath swept the chamber.

She. Was. Radiant.

Not in the ostentatious way of courtly display like the former royalty that she was, but in something far more refreshing. Her presence was composed, her posture unshaken, her expression calm yet resolute. Draped in elegant senatorial attire, she looked nothing like the desperate, fretful girl worried about her pregnancy, but like a leader. 

Some people unconsciously stared at her. Not out of lust, but due to long lost memories. For the 5 years of the Clone Wars, this young firebrand had been a leading figure in the peace faction, and had her speeches used as reference material in both universities, and research papers. For most young women, she was a symbol of freedom, whilst young men fantasized about being her lover. 

Perhaps a change had occurred unbeknownst even to Padmé. Although she was not Force Sensitive, carrying two of the most powerful children to term had in some way altered her. The Force surrounded her like a blanket, transforming an already radiant-yet previously dead star-into a risen phoenix, a star reborn! 

Palpatine did not move, but his eyes narrowed as his mind raced. 

“Senator Amidala, how pleased I am that you have joined us. The galaxy was led to believe you perished. Your return to the Senate is a most welcome occurrence.” Palpatine warmly stated, and led a gentle applause heralding her return. 

Padmé did not bow, smile, or wave for the cameras. Instead, as soon as the vapid clapping petered out, she went on the attack. 

“Since the formation of the Empire, the galaxy has been led to believe many things.” Padmé said in an accusatory tone. “You speak of grief, Your Majesty.” She said, her gaze sweeping across the Senate.

“And we have all grieved. For the lives lost. For the destruction. For the fear that has crept into every level of our society.” Her eyes then returned to him. “But grief alone does not mean we should abandon our principles.”

The words landed with select members of the Senate, whilst those conspiracy theorists, and people with anti-Imperial thoughts who were listening in perked their ears.

Finally. They thought. Someone was finally speaking up for them! At home, at school, at work, everyone spoke about how good Palpatine was. About how good the Empire would be. These doubters always said that the Empire was bad now. Yet loved ones, friends, and coworkers ignored them. Now, here was Padmé Amidala, calling out that which many had become social pariahs for saying. 

“You present us with images. With a prisoner. With a narrative.” She gestured lightly toward the holo-display, where Mace Windu remained frozen in restraint. “And you ask us to accept, without question, that this man-who verifiably served the Republic for decades-has suddenly become a terrorist responsible for the devastation of our capital.”

She tilted her head, not in mockery, but in quiet scrutiny.

“Where is the proof? Where is the trial? Are we a Democracy?! Shouldn't the courts decide his guilt? Not this, this arbitrary, unilateral decision?!” 

The people in the chamber began to feel stifled. Many people with guilty conscious’ stared down in shame. For whatever reason, her words had a magical affect, seemingly even the most cutthroat of politicians-the type that owned slaves, embezzled money, and abused the common people-even they for the briefest of seconds, felt uncomfortable with the direction the Empire was heading. 

“We are told the Jedi betrayed us. That they plotted to overthrow the Republic, and rule with an iron fist. So I ask of you a question. Who has benefited most from their fall?”

Her gaze did not leave Palpatine, and a brief, pindrop silence spread across the vast Senate hall like the waves of a still pond after a rock had been tossed into the center. 

“You ask this Senate to trust in justice, while denying it transparency. You ask us to believe in peace, while announcing an execution. An execution scheduled not for necessity, but for symbolism. The anniversary of Geonosis, an event where I was to be sacrificed to entertain the Confederacy's sick amusement. Yet we are to believe-without evidence-that this entire war was a setup?” Padmé asked in an incredulous tone. 

Now the discomfort was palpable, and Palpatine's prolonged silence was beginning to make some of his supporters feel as if they were sitting on pins and needles. 

“If we accept this, if we allow a man to be executed based on words alone, without scrutiny, without truth, then we are no longer a Senate. We are an audience.” Padmé, with one final look at Palpatine, lowered her pod, and floated back to her place along the wall of the Senate Chamber. 

The silence that followed was suffocating. Where moments ago there had been unity, now there was fracture. Where there had been certainty, now there was doubt.

And at the center of it all, for the first time since he had taken the throne, Emperor Palpatine did not speak.

Some took this as a sign of weakness, but only Palpatine knew the truth. Because at that moment, the Sith Lord was distracted. His consciousness had inexplicably been transported to a vast scenic view of the galaxy. 

There, his mind brushed up against a host of unforeseen rivals. 

A dark cloud expanding endlessly. 

A gear ticking like a clock. 

A withered branch. 

A pure black sarcophagus. 

A fading blue light. 

A patient chessboard.

A burning symbol.

A resigned persistence. 

A red mountain billowing black smoke. 

And an ever expanding shadow. 

~~~~~~~~~

AN: Even if Corvus & Padmé have beef, that doesn't mean she isn't a Hero or suddenly became stupid. I always hated stories (cough cough Harry Potter fanfiction) where people who disagree with the MC suddenly become stupid/incompetent or so outrageously immoral that the MC is justified in killing them.