Title: The Good Professor
Author: TaRionne / el-inquisidor
"Protective custody of the Queen," the occupiers kept saying. "We have taken protective custody of the Queen and will rectify this problem for the people of Naboo."
It did, like all good propaganda, possess its own seeds of truth. While still being completely and utterly untrue in spirit, of course.
Nevertheless, propaganda was no reason to become a traitor to the Republic, Palpatine thought, steepling his hands and gazing down at the boys before him.
He didn't say a word. It was always better to let people confess their own wrongs. The torture was often more thorough that way.
"I did it," one of the boys blurted. His voice shook slightly, but his chin jutted out with the idealist pride that only a freethinking liberal arts student could possess. The boy was Palo Corrino, a third-level art student of the University of Theed. "I put up the flyers."
The boy next to him sighed. "I did too," he confessed.
"But Lor just wrote them," said Corrino, giving his companion a look. "I'm the one who did the drawings."
"I see," said Palpatine, leaning back in his seat. "The drawings were rather…unwise."
Corrino squirmed, but his companion spoke up: "We did it to protest the Occupation, Professor. Sir, we had to show those frakkers that they couldn't just march in and hold our Queen hostage like some kind of—"
Professor Augustin Palpatine, Doctor of Philosophy, Chair of Classical Studies at the University of Theed, held up a hand. The young man quieted. Students tended to respect him, despite his unassuming looks. They called him "a good professor."
"I understand," said Palpatine. "But there was no reason to—"
"Of course there was!" exclaimed the student, "Lor," whose full name he couldn't quite remember. "I mean, there was, Sir. Just because a citizen of Naboo refuses to give her child to the Jedi doesn't mean the Jedi can just come down here and take it."
"And the Separatists," Corrino added. "It's because we're hosting talks with the Party of Independence and the Trade Federation… The Jedi want to arrest anyone here who speaks against the Republic. So anyone who tells the truth about all the corruption and even the disappearances—"
"The disappearance of Senator Valorum is still under investigation," Palpatine reminded them.
"But they're saying it's the Separatists like they've proven it already."
"I understand," Palpatine said again. And he really did. Seeing those two young men standing there before him, their eyes shining with the hope that they could change the galaxy… He'd stood like that once.
It had almost been his undoing, but once… he'd thought he could change the galaxy too.
Palpatine sighed, looking down at his desk. There were papers strewn about it—some departmental memos, a student's thesis on Gungan government, and some opinion papers on Freedrik Neetzhe, a controversial Zabrak philosopher from over two millennia ago. He also had to draft a lecture the Scholars' Collegium had invited him to give, and return the thesis by that evening…
But somehow none of it seemed important anymore.
"I know the Queen," Corrino said softly. "We were friends in school together. And I…I don't want to think of Ami—Her Majesty—standing with a room full of Jedi negotiating with her…while I'm just sitting around doing nothing."
"So you made the flyers," Palpatine finished.
"Yes," said Corrino.
Palpatine reached for the flyer, which lay facedown on his desk. "You wanted to protest what you see as a Jedi encroachment on the sovereignty of Naboo…by drawing a flyer depicting personifications of the Senate and the Jedi Council engaging in…" How could he say this? "…inappropriate and rather crude personal relations?"
The students shrugged. "Well, when you put it like that, Professor…" Lor muttered, squirming. "I'm sorry, Professor."
The corners of his mouth turned up, and Palpatine fought back a chuckle. "Apology accepted, Mr. Needa," he replied, finally recalling the boy's surname.
Lorth "Lor" Needa looked genuinely sheepish, but Corrino, upon seeing his handiwork, started grinning. He was still proud of his flyers, however scandalous they might be. And his cohort looked terrified, which amused Palpatine to no end. He was just a history professor, after all.
Though he hadn't always been so.
Palpatine put down the flyer and laughed in spite of himself. He didn't know how to describe it, but for the first time in a long while, he felt…
"Sir, don't you agree that what they're doing here is wrong?" demanded Needa.
Palpatine looked at the two students. At the moment, they struck him as very, very young. And angry. He could see the righteous anger inside them, wisping through the room like smoke. He could feel it.
He had abandoned the Force a long time ago, but the Force hadn't abandoned him.
"No," Palpatine admonished, and Needa's eyes grew wide with incredulity. "Don't ask me like that," he continued, beginning to pace. "That's not how you win political support. You don't ask someone how they feel—you tell them. But," and here he smiled again, remembering his fiery days in the Youth Legislature, "You don't make it obvious that you're telling them."
"Sir?" Needa asked.
"I was once interested in politics," Palpatine replied, feeling the need to explain. "Before I realized that going into politics meant being around other politicians."
Corrino laughed and Needa relaxed a bit.
"You are going about your protest in exactly the wrong way," said Palpatine. "You must win popular support in the most…legitimate way that you can. And…" He looked down at the flyer's scrawled title: "'Jedi Master Windu's Sithin' Good Time with Chancellor Amedda' is entirely unsuitable for this purpose."
Sithin'? Palpatine would never understand youth slang. Perhaps the students were going for irony with that word.
"I understand," said Corrino, and Palpatine knew that he did.
"Maybe we should plan a demonstration?" Needa suggested.
A demonstration. Palpatine could almost see it…rows and rows of angry students staring down a line of Jedi. Once he would have laughed to see such a thing, but now all he could feel was a quiet dread. His students were all so young…
"Maybe," Palpatine admitted. "But you would have to do things carefully. Demonstrations can easily become…"
Dangerous.
"Misunderstood."
"We know," Corrino said impatiently. He was a student in his fifth level. Which meant that he knew everything, of course.
Once, Palpatine had known everything. He'd known everything and he'd controlled everything and the galaxy had been his to be wooed—wooed by Force, that is—and he'd been…
Young.
So very young.
"Professor?" Needa began.
Despite his renunciation of the Force all those years ago, he still knew some things. He could still lead. He could still reclaim the place he'd given up so long ago…
"Yes?" Palpatine asked.
A university of indignant students would be a decent place to start. And he could do it.
He could foresee it.
"Can you help us?"
No. He wouldn't.
Not like that.
"We aren't really sure what to…"
"I hate those frakkers. Marching onto our world…"
He would have to do things a different way now. The old way (that primal, seductive, beautiful way) wouldn't work, not for his students—and not for him.
"I will help you," said Palpatine, giving the boys a grim smile. "But this will not be the grand crusade you think it is. It will be quite difficult."
"We know that," Needa blurted.
"Good," said Palpatine, though he knew they didn't. A good professor always knew how much to expect of his students. "Then we'll begin."
