Senate Rotunda, Coruscant; 21 BBY
"The Chair recognizes the senator for the sovereign system of Naboo."
The consistent and constant lighting of the chamber served to lull the attendees into a state where the passage of the day outside was minimal to the work they were doing, and this was especially this time, as the session had carried over long into the night. Before the civil war that had been sparked on Geonosis, such a long assembly was unheard of, as the previous body of government was loath to work harder than absolutely necessary to keep their own positions. But that had all changed when the war started, now colloquially dubbed the 'Clone Wars' by political commentators. There was nothing quite like a conflict to keep government bureaucracy meshing like a well-oiled machine, an ironic turn of phrase considering the soldiers utilized by the Separatists in the war.
The repulsorpod designated to the Naboo system dethatched itself from the staggered inner curve of the massive spherical evocation chamber. Gliding silently before the Chancellor's podium, Senator Amidala addressed the Senate.
"Honored representatives of the Senate, we find ourselves in the most poignant of circumstances any government can find itself. We are embroiled in a conflict that can have no victory, only devastation," she exclaimed as she turned to take in the entire congregation, "We cannot, as the defenders of free democracy, be forced to enforce our laws by fiat. Only though cooperation can the Galaxy begin to heal, and we must be the arbitrators of that lasting peace, as we inadvertently played a role in this by past inaction that has lead to the dissatisfaction found in the systems the Confederacy is drawing from."
As with the vast majority of political speeches, this was greeted by an almost schizophrenic reaction. Proponents of change, spearheaded by Senators Mon Mothma and Bail Organa would applaud, while those who had divergent loyalties, even a financial incentive for the war, such as Lott Dod and other Corporate-aligned Senators would voice their restrained, lest they be investigated for said conflicts on interest, condemnation. The majority, though, merely waited, unwillingly to be on record for or against something before they could weigh the value such a position could have on their own political career.
"The Bill before us, Resolution 8835, will not help us defuse the situation we find ourselves in. Expanding the mandate of the Coruscant Guard to include other Core Worlds will only serve to antagonize those we wish to make peace with." Amidala continued, "Further militarization of Republic worlds only exacerbate the situation. Please consider that this vote will have a ripple effect in the war, making a conclusion to hostilities more difficult to achieve."
Her allotted time over, the delegation pod returned to its nesting spot in the upper echelon of the chamber. When no one else deigned to take the floor, the vote was taken. At the end, the Senate had chosen to expand the authority of the Coruscant Guard to encompass the Core, though the vote ended far closer than the pundits had expected. Political analysis would later credit Amidala for swaying some of the centrists to side against the resolution.
With the business of the day concluded, the Chancellor gestured to the Vice Chair to end the session, which the Chagrain quickly did. Despite the late hour, the halls of the Senate would be crowded as Senators, aides, and other functionaries finished up their work and made their way home for what was left of the night.
Mas Amedda was a worrier. That was not to say he couldn't control himself, or hide his outward appearance from displaying such emotions, but he was honest enough with himself to acknowledge when something caused him stress. Stress was a constant now, what with the war and his high position, that was standard now, but he found it immensely more tenuous when he was alone with Palpatine. The Chancellor had not voiced an opinion during the actual session, though that wasn't uncommon, he already had advocates to do that for him, anonymously. The Pressure Amedda felt now came solely from the silence in the Chancellor's private office. All alone, there was little need to keep up the facade, so the silence was more of volition than necessity.
The Chancellor left Amedda's side upon entering the elaborate office and calmly slipped into his chair, the rustle of fabric against upholstery sounded intolerably loud in comparison to the oppressive hush in the room. Amedda wasn't even sure why Palpatine was reacting like this, he had, after all, gotten what he wanted. The Coruscant Guard would soon be on every Core world, subtly enforcing the idea that the Republic would no longer tolerate dissention. Yet, he felt the need to ask slowly overpower the fear of actually getting an answer.
"My lord," Amedda began, "Are you not pleased with the vote?"
Palpatine had steepled his fingers on the desk, bony fingers creating a lattice of shadows on the surface of the desk, oddly resembling a silken arachnid web. His wintry blue eyes, so understanding outside the office, latched onto Amedda's own. The Chancellor collapsed the roof of digits as he interlaced his finger and leaned back.
"It would seem," Palpatine drawled, "That some members of the Senate have begun to doubt the dedication of the Separatists to their cause, even to the point in deluding themselves to the prospect of an expedient end of hostilities."
The chair swiveled around, away from Amedda, to look out upon the gloomy cityscape of Coruscant. While it was clearly night, the sky was irrevocably lit by an untold number of lights. Traffic lanes were ropes of luminosity and the buildings themselves were towers of illumination. Darkness, at least in a physical sense, would never fall of the galactic capital. That wasn't to say that other forms of darkness didn't exist there, they just didn't require the physical realm to operate, and as the singularity of said phenomenon, Palpatine decided that it was time for the Core to be shaken from their complacency. It was time to tinge their disinterest with the war with some healthy fear and what better way to do that than with direct contact?
"Leave me, I have a call to make"
Amedda didn't need to be told twice, he fled the suddenly chilly office. One did not last long in such positions by failing to jump when ordered.
Providence-class Destroyer, Resplendent; 21 BBY
Count Dooku was old. He could feel it in his bones, long removed from his youthful days as a Jedi they were now aged. True, he wore his 81 years better than most. He could still single-handedly defeat the best fighters in the galaxy, though now that would be more due to experience and technique than raw power, but of what use was physical power when it was so easily turned back on its source? No, Dooku was quite happy with his prowess on both the mystical and physical arenas, but he couldn't deny his age. It was rarely something he thought about, but when he did it was usually when he was kneeled before his master.
Darth Sidious seemed to have the innate ability to siphon off strength, even when it was clearly only a psychological effect. Even being an apprentice, the Count knew that. While it was possible to touch someone at great distances, something easily within the grasp of the Dark Lord, it was still an unnecessary expense of energy, and one Dooku would have felt regardless. No, Dooku fully realized that the effect was one purely in his mind, but that did little to help, as knowing what the problem is and knowing how to fix is are two distinctly different things.
Still listening as his master outlined the events of the Senate session, Dooku briefly turned his thoughts to the visage before him. Though, on further thought 'visage' may not be entirely appropriate, as it implied seeing something. His master only ever appeared clad in a voluminous cloak, presumably black, though one could never tell with holograms. With everything saturated in cobalt tones, it rendered aesthetics a rather moot point. Face half hidden by a raised hood, the only skin visible was that lower half, as his hands were tucked inside the cloak's substantial sleeves. It was simple and understated, but belied the true being underneath. It was a living embodiment of one of Dooku's first lessons under the tutelage of his master: What is done in secret has great power. As Sidious was, perhaps, the most powerful being in the galaxy, controlling two governments like marionettes, secrecy came in the form of anonymity.
"It is time to bring the reality of the situation home to the Republic, my friend, complacency cannot be condoned." Sidious concluded, gravelly voice given a tin-like quality from the speakers.
"What would you have us do, my lord?" Dooku asked, the Dark Lord never contacted him without an agenda.
"Distance breeds apathy, so we shall ensure that even the most secure is anything but." Sidious' contemptuous voice intoned as Dooku noticed an incoming data file pulsing green, "I am sending you various hyperspace routes you will utilize to that effect."
"You want a campaign against the Core?" Dooku scanned through the incoming files and was somewhat surprised, it was an incredibly aggressive move, and nigh impossible without the hyperlane routes provided.
Sidious' perpetual frown twitched into a facsimile of a sneer, "I want conflict, Count. Conflict to spread the Jedi reserves thin. Conflict to draw the Army into more and more battles. Conflict to impress upon the Republic that this is only the beginning of the war."
"Yes, my master, it will be done." Dooku punctuated with a deeper bow, strained joints silently creaking with the effort.
"Excellent, keep me appraised." Sidious curtly replied before severing the connection, leaving Dooku alone in his chambers aboard the warship.
Dooku rose slowly, still drained from his conversation, though his strength gradually returned. He studied the files provided by his master. An attack on the Core was unprecedented, but that meant nothing to Sidious, only success.
Chancellor's Private Office, Coruscant; 21 BBY
Palpatine cut the transmission and stared at the compact holoprojector. It was a work of art, literally crafted by the artisans of the Xi Char. When he had approached the cult of perfectionists years before for the Mechno-Chair Gunray currently possessed, Sidious couldn't help but indulge his artistic sensibilities. He had always liked antiques, but it was a rare treat to have something so aesthetically pleasing be functional and so often used. The lineage of the device, however, was not the subject of Palpatine's musings. Instead he thought of the person so recently displayed over it.
Dooku was old and feeble. His fire had long since burned out to a low ember, complacent in his new position and what the future held for him. Fool, Sidious seethed. Dooku couldn't even divine the obvious parallels in their conversation moments ago. Complacency cannot be condoned, indeed it will not be. But this wasn't the time to edify his ageing apprentice, no. Dooku was old and feeble, yes, but still useful.
Palpatine rose from his, for all intents and purposes, throne and slipped out of his cloak and telekinetically sent it into a hidden recess at the end of his office, followed by the ornate holoprojector. A monster he may have been, but he was neat. A place for everything and everything in its place.
Once again in only his robes of office, he walked the expanse of the room to his favorite works of art. Two of the Four Sages of Dwartii graced his inner office, with the latter two as guardians of the entrance. The lighting had been dimmed to the point where everything was cast in crimson from the floor. Sidious made his way to the Neuranium figurine of Sistros. Of all the statues, this held the most sentimentality for him.
Palpatine delicately traced a bony finger along the bronzium finish. Soon, he thought to the object nestled inside the effigy's hollowed out core. It was as close to a friend as he had, so long removed now that he only remembered it from sheer willpower. Soon, indeed, but first he would obliterate the Republic and exterminate the Jedi. Sidious didn't care if he razed every planet from Coruscant to Zigoola, he would burn the hope from every denizen of every planet. He would sit in his office and feel the light leave the universe as each Jedi met their inevitable fate, betrayal by their own subordinates. Every exquisite scream, every shattered heart, every bereavement would sow the seeds of darkness.
This new offensive is just a stepping stone to the horror that would come to define the so-called 'Clone Wars,' not some last ditched strive to democracy. The Confederacy would die far short of what they wanted to accomplish, but they would succeed in destroying the Republic. When Palpatine was finished he would rule on high, far higher than Chancellor of the Republic or as the de facto head of the Confederacy. He would rule the galaxy as Emperor. It was already decided, preordained by the darkness. Everything leading up to it a farce played out to appease the spectators. The Republic will fall, I have foreseen it.
Author's Note: Well, I've never really written something I intended to publish until now, and even with this I'm not really sure how far I'll go. A friend of mine, Larsdalen, came to me a few days ago wanting to write a story about Operation Durge's Lance. For those of you who don't know (by which I probably mean most), it was a series of attacks carried out by the Confederacy of Independent Systems against the Core worlds of the Galactic Republic during the Clone Wars. For the most part, there really isn't all that much written directly about it, and he asked me to fill in some of the meat of the stories.
I'm not particularly good with action, which is terribly ironic considering this is meant to follow various battles (i.e. action). But I did rather enjoy writing this, which could pretty easily turn into a vignette. Full disclosure: I am a pretty big huge Palpatine/Sidious fan, so if I do continue, expect him to show up. For people who've read some of the books, you'll notice I make a lot of allusions to them and took a lot of inspiration from them for the personalities of the characters as this is supposed to be able to fit in with canon. For this part, it mostly comes from Yoda: Dark Rendezvous by Sean Stewart, Clone Wars: Wild Space by Karen Miller, Labyrinth of Evil by James Luceno, and Revenge of the Sith by Matthew Stover. I even took a couple lines directly out of them they fit so well.
Of course, I should also say that I don't own any of the characters, locations, anything really. I just get to play with them. Dance puppets, dance! Muahahaha!