Previously, on A Night for Opera and Everything Else…
During an ambitious assassination attempt by his own secretive aide Sly Moore, Palpatine's alter-ego has been revealed to none other than Anakin Skywalker. The two begin to scheme: Anakin seeking to save his wife, child, and mentor, and Palpatine seeking to complete Anakin's fall to the Dark Side while condemning the Jedi Order. Warriors and scholars alike, Jedi all over the galaxy have been placed under arrest at their temples, academies, and praxeums, awaiting full senatorial investigation for the attempted assassinations of the Supreme Chancellor and Bail Organa's wife. They are growing increasingly desperate to stop the revealed Sith Lord and escape his tightening noose.
Palpatine, hoping to deepen the mistrust that the Senate holds for the Jedi, launches a risky plan to implicate the Jedi Order with the Separatist movement. He is counting on Grievous to invade Naboo and "secretly" demand the release of the Jedi, sending Senator Amidala to her homeworld to negotiate. By doing so, he hopes to draw Anakin Skywalker away from the influence of Obi-Wan Kenobi and into the shadows of his deepening lies. In the meantime, tense disagreement between the Jedi and the ARC troopers on H'ratth threatens to explode into violence that could envelop the galaxy.
"Everybody liked better to conjecture how the thing was, than simply to know it; for conjecture soon became more confident than knowledge, and had a more liberal allowance for the incompatible."
Chapter Twenty-Five
Coruscant
Galactic Senate Medical Center
Early Afternoon (4th day since collapse)
"Sim…" Palpatine clasped his hands behind his back as he gazed down into the bustling traffic lanes. "Is it possible? Are the Jedi going to make it so simple for me?"
Sim Aloo, his most senior political advisor, looked up from his datapad schedule. "You mean the rising tension on H'ratth?"
"What else?" Palpatine turned back to face the older man and limped across the room to the small table near his bed. On it, his afternoon meal lay untouched, the carefully prepared food offering no allure. He sank into the plush hover chair and pushed an unidentified green object around the bowl. "The report Sate brings me from our agents is clear. Multiple Jedi are contemplating forcing their way out. It could be a matter of hours, or minutes."
Palpatine speared the edible greenery and pushed it off the utensil again. He was growing agitated over the time he was forced to remain here. Whether or not the doctors stood for it, he would be returning to his own quarters by day's end. From there, he could more easily orchestrate the final tragedy of the ill-omened Jedi Order.
He stood again, ignoring the pain in his left leg. It bothered him more than the right still. "If we, say, helped this situation along, do you think the benefits would outweigh the potential for a Jedi military response?"
Aloo set aside the schedule. "You feel they would attempt a wide-scale revolt?"
Palpatine scoffed. "The Jedi are on the knife's edge of chaos, and the future is, of late-" and here he repressed a bitter snarl, "-very much in motion. One wrong move, no matter how insignificant, would tip the balance. Yes, I believe they may attempt to break our hold if we are connected in any way to the situation on H'ratth. What is the Senate's present view on the Jedi?"
Aloo came to stand beside his leader. "The current polling data collected this morning shows that over seventy-seven percent of Senators are mistrustful of Jedi intentions. Fifty-three percent believe they are responsible for increasing the war's duration and tensions, and forty-seven percent have confessed to entertaining the belief that the Jedi are working in league with the Separatists. It's not a clear majority yet, my Excellency, but it could be with the right pressure applied."
Palpatine gazed up at the looming Senate dome. "Pressure," he hummed. "And how do you find the emotional state of our beloved senators?"
Aloo sucked in a deep breath. Having served Palpatine since the days of his ambassadorship for Naboo, he had been inducted into Palpatine's tightest circle of advisors. More, as a Force-sensitive, Aloo had been chosen for the singular honor of becoming the first of the Adepts of Sidious's future Empire. He knew Palpatine was asking him to reach out with the Dark Side. He concentrated. "There is much fear among them, my lord. But it is unsure fear. They don't really know who is at fault."
"Uncertainty is a powerful weapon, Sim," Palpatine laid a hand on his shoulder. "Nothing is harder to turn than a zealot. But work with someone who doubts, and eventually they succumb to the inevitability of your power." He swung away and moved stiffly toward the set of chairs that Aloo had abandoned. "We need more uncertainty, but too much chaos and the Jedi zealots will try to step in. Contentious fools," he sighed, easing into the comfortable seat. "Revealed too early, I was, and yet the situation is still ripe with opportunity."
"The risks have increased, that much is clear." Aloo joined him at the chairs. "But consider the situation, my lord. All Jedi assigned to stationary temples and praxeums are being carefully monitored. Over seventy-five percent of the Jedi in-field have been pulled from the front lines, replaced by our newly trained academy officers. The remaining Jedi are being monitored with entire squads of ARC troopers as they complete their missions. The governors are taking over the war strategy with ease. Perhaps a few Jedi have slipped through our grasp, but the vast majority could be culled without too much difficulty. I don't think we even need the situation on H'ratth."
"You believe an up-rising could be quickly crushed, then," Palpatine raised one eyebrow. "I am not so convinced. Not yet, anyway, not until I know that the Senate would commit completely to the necessary purge. Your numbers are not the most reassuring."
"They grow better every passing hour," Aloo insisted.
"And I did not get to where I am by playing wild games of chance," Palpatine let a note of warning ring through his voice. He then pulled the holotransmitter from his vest pocket and activated it again.
The small blue figure stood in front of the temple, engaged in a heated argument with the localized ARC commander on the steps of the main entrance, gesturing wildly.
"Only an hour ago… This Knight Juube," Palpatine mused. "He has a reputation for being rather hotheaded, does he not?"
Aloo had done his research well. "He currently has three reprimands from the admirals he operated under, my lord. They were not always pleased with his methods."
"Yet if we kill him and start the riots on H'ratth, the Jedi may move against us in the different sectors. What else would they have to lose?" Palpatine paused the transmission, gazing closely at the troops that ringed the Jedi. He briefly pulled on the currents of the Force and received nothing. "Let them be pawns…"
"My lord?"
"Haste makes terrible waste sometimes, Aloo. It would not be difficult on that chaotic mess of a planet to create the dissension we seek. However, I will let the Jedi move against themselves at this point. If we let them act freely, and if we monitor the media coverage, then the situation could become the tipping point for our undecided Senators."
"Or the Jedi," Aloo cautioned.
Palpatine brought the tips of his slender fingers together. "Well then, we must make certain every contingency is considered. Have Director Isard restrict on-site access for the media communications that are less trustworthy. Put all troops guarding the temples and praxeums on high alert, and have the command at the Temple move into battle-ready deployment. If we sense the Jedi moving against us, we may be able to execute a preemptive operation."
Aloo stood, sensing that the conversation was over. "I will do as you command, my lord."
"Make certain they understand that we cannot move first."
"Of course."
Palpatine waved him through the door, already turning his thoughts to the next step. Improvising, especially when reliant upon the foolishness of others, had never been his favorite pastime. He enjoyed his opportunities lined up for the taking like plump fruits, which had been his experience until the debacle at the Opera House. Now, the future was bringing him warnings, whispers of caution. They were coming more often now.
But when he reached out again into the darkness, there was no hesitation. These frightened Jedi would play directly into his hands. He needed to speak with Sate Pestage.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
All the way to the Temple Archives, Anakin's thoughts dwelt on the heated argument with Padme, and hot shame flushed through him every time he recalled the brutal sharpness of his verbal attack. He might have blamed it on stress, or lack of sleep, or the General Stupidity of the Universe. All three certainly applied.
But inside, he knew. He knew and he feared. The Dark Side of the Force made him bold in ways he had never experienced, made him stronger, faster, more confident. It also made him angrier, the last thing he wanted where Padme was concerned. Does that come from looking into the future? I spoke before I thought. She forgave me. But I don't know if I can forgive myself. I hurt her.
The rest of the morning had passed in awkward silences and gentle, uncertain touches. He carefully avoided her concerned and watchful gaze, but he also resisted taking leave and returning to the Temple, knowing that he would only find the sight of the clone battalions with their barrels trained directly on their former commanders. Knowing that he was partially, if not entirely, responsible for the current state of affairs in the Republic.
Yet when he thought of the Republic, he found it much harder to care. None of his empathy passed to the madness that called itself his government. Padme's involvement with the Senate was unfortunate, especially the influential circles that tried to sway her into treasonous territory. Even fully recognizing Palpatine for the Sith Lord that he was, Anakin firmly believed the Republic was better off in the hands of a man who knew what he wanted and was bold enough to take it.
He compared himself to a force of nature…Can I really blame him for wanting to build the Republic from the ground up? Anakin wondered. When I was telling Padme much the same thing three years ago?
This was why he preferred the physical battlefield. In a battle, you tended to know who your enemies were, and you could use a variety of weapons to accomplish your mission. To win.
There were no clear enemies or friends here.
And he was quickly coming to realize… there was no winning here either.
Anakin glanced up from under his lowered lids at Obi-Wan Kenobi, walking by his side through the Jedi Temple as if nothing had changed in these last eventful days. In that moment, Obi-Wan reminded Anakin of nothing more than a rock of solid, unmovable calm. The Force blew gale-winds in the eyes of the galaxy, and Obi-Wan smiled his tight little grin and kept being the perfect Jedi.
The younger Jedi entertained faint jealously. If Obi-Wan were in this position, he would know what to do. But then again, Obi-Wan would never have been in my position. He pushed the melancholy thought from his head as they approached the sealed doors of the Holocron vaults.
"I spoke with Padme about the situation here," he broke the heavy silence at last. "She told me that the Senate has authorized Division C47 to remain at the Temple until specific dismissal by the Office of the Supreme Chancellor. She also told me that smaller units of ARC troopers are going to be commissioned for patrols on the grounds."
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and placed his palm against the code reader. "Actually in the Temple itself?" The door swished open.
"Evidently," Anakin shrugged off the surprise in his former master's face. "Some sort of preventative measure cooked up by the idiots in the Senate. Look, I don't want that any more than you do, but it's not actually Palpatine pushing that one through."
Obi-Wan's lips may have twitched. "At least not personally."
Anakin moved past him into the vault without answering.
He picked up where he had left off during their last venture to the vaults. The section on healing and positive thought power was large, taking up the majority of one long, low wall. Unfortunately, nearly every Holocron he perused was an echo or variation of Light Side caution toward attachment.
Anakin sighed and reached for a smaller Holocron tucked on the highest shelf. Its gatekeeper, an ancient Duros Jedi male, welcomed him in a sibilant hiss of a voice. As he posed his questions, he initially felt the keen bite of disappointment when the faint blue hologram intoned, "Attachment is not the way to heal the broken body or mind…"
"So you all keep saying," Anakin muttered and reached for the deactivation switch.
"…but love is."
"What? Say that again," the young Jedi demanded, pulling the Holocron closer to his face.
"Love, master Jedi," the Duros repeated. "Many of the Masters and most of the knights have forsworn the stronger emotions, and in doing so they have lost the ability to conquer all trials. You see, love is an emotion that should never have been abandoned, for it gives us purpose in this galaxy. Those who will not love, will sit by and watch the evil spread."
"How does love keep people safe?" Anakin asked, feeling the eagerness fill his body. "And what is the difference between love and attachment?"
The memory banks of the Holocron caused a small, momentary shift in the Duros's image. "The difference is both great and small. To remove attachment completely would stifle the power of love. If you fail to personally invest in the wellbeing of others, life will cease to matter. Atrocities of legend have come to pass due to lack of caring. Governments toppled, environments ruined, people slaughtered-"
"Go on, please," Anakin tapped the corner of the Holocron.
The Duros feigned irritation. "On the other hand, attachment at the cost of the target leads only to pain for both target and attached. True love does not hurt others. Love is long-suffering and gentle. Love does not boast or lord over the defeats and heartache of others. Love protects and perseveres through heartache and darkness. Some early Masters promoted the idea that love can even transverse the stars in its power, reaching across time and space."
Anakin pondered the Holocron's words and found his mind helplessly rewinding to the morning at Padme's apartment. I love her, but I hurt her. Is that all I am destined to do: hurt the ones I love the most? If I turn Palpatine in to the Jedi, he will be lost to me forever, and maybe Padme too. If I support Palpatine, Obi-Wan and the others will surely suffer for it.
He forced the dark train of thought away and pressed the Holocron for answers. "And can the power of love keep people alive?"
The Duros lifted blank eyes. "The healing arts? You speak of the communication with the midi-chlorians and the will of the Force in the Jedi's body…"
"Or a non-Force sensitive," Anakin blurted.
The Duros blinked. "Always, it has been easier to heal one whose body and spirit lies in tune with the power of the Light Side. Those who travel the path of darkness will ever struggle with true healing, and those who lack midi-chlorians or contact with the Force do not generally respond to cellular manipulation."
"So it can't be done," Anakin's fingers itched to crush the useless tool in his palm, felt the anger surging up.
"Your supposition has not been proven," the Duros raised one long hand. "As the majority of Jedi veer from the stronger emotions and from contact with those who cannot access the Force, studies and knowledge on this matter remain highly limited. I, for one, believe love has power that cannot be underestimated. For instance, it is known that a pure enough and sharply directed love can strike a Dark Side user senseless. I performed this maneuver upon a Dark Side user on Rostus IV, and the results were illuminating."
Anakin scowled. "Well and good, but that doesn't answer my question." But he had begun thinking about Palpatine's story, of the Sith Lord who had been able to create life itself. Had this been accomplished through the midi-chlorians? And if so, could Palpatine teach Anakin to command even the smallest components of life? Could the Dark Side heal through attachment where the Light Side didn't even care?
He reached out, flicked the deactivation switch, and watched the small figure dissipate into nothingness.
Just like his dwindling hope for a solution from these vaunted and obsolete Jedi Masters.
He would speak with Palpatine tonight.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
In the Senate chambers, Padme Amidala felt sick to her stomach. Even without the lauded skills of a Jedi, she could feel the tension and fear that boiled under the surface. The entire Senate body vibrated with ill will, most of it directed squarely at the Jedi and those who dared support the Order publicly.
Like herself.
Padme sighed, twisting her hands absently together. Her mind reflected the turbulence in the massive chamber. Her eyes fixated on the podium in the center of the Senate hall, on the empty seat in the middle, flanked now by Mas Amedda and Sate Pestage. The visual reminder punched a fresh hole in her aching chest.
All of it, a bold lie. All the years of friendship, all the talking, all of the encouragement, it was all a lie to him. But it was real to me. Palpatine had been her friend and mentor since before her bid to become Queen of Naboo, and she knew that his relationship with her parents stretched even further. Ruwee and Jobal considered themselves close companions to Palpatine, as close as anyone was likely to get, Ruwee often boasting good-naturedly to his friends at Theed University about his connections to the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic.
Padme gritted her teeth. Palpatine had done nothing to dissuade Ruwee and Jobal of the notion; in fact, he seemed to encourage communication from them. And now she knew why. All of us used to perfect degree, placed in positions that he chose and formatted for our unique abilities, a puppeteer picking out his main characters from a limitless chest of lives.
Thinking it, trying to analyze it, did not lessen the hurt in her heart. She too, had fallen under his spell, only coming to regard him in new light within the last few years and even then out of concern for his well-being. She had feared that he was being dragged into the moral morass of Republican politics at last, his gentle nature corrupting at the edges as the Senate forced more powers upon his reluctant shoulders.
Padme choked back a harsh laugh, thankful for the sound cancellation feature on her Senate pod. If only that had been the case… The truth proved much, much worse. Now, thanks to her blind faith, she stared into a disaster unlike any other. A Sith Lord, poised to rule over the Republic and bring every political ideal she had ever supported crashing to the ground. The Jedi, viewed with suspicion by the Galaxy at large and surrounded by thousands of crack Republican troopers. The Senate, in love with a leader who lured them ever closer to their own impotent destruction.
Wake up! She wanted to scream at them. All this talk of safety and security is a ploy. None of us will be safe from him. He is everything we swore to fight against.
And Padme knew what her warning would bring: scoffing, derision, scorn, even suspicion. She would be accused of shoring up the Separatist argument, of being a sympathizer. Her career would end in a matter of hours, or possibly her life. She had no proof, and the one man who might, Count Dooku, was dead at Anakin's hand.
The thought of her husband chilled her. Palpatine had played the young Jedi more effectively than anyone else, spending years to cement a powerful emotional bond between them. Padme knew Anakin wanted to save her from his terrifying visions, but she also knew he loved the older man like a father. And somehow, even now, Anakin was managing to rationalize his protection of the Sith Lord.
She suspected she understood, in a deep, dark place of her soul. I rationalized too, when Anakin killed the Tusken Raiders, when he brutalized Rush Clovis, when he… her mind flickered back over all the times she had seen his eyes burn with fire-bright rage and fear and jealousy. Love leads us to terrible choices. Anakin has always been loyal to a fault. He doesn't really care about the Republic, not like I do. In fact, sometimes I get the feeling he would prefer Palpatine to be in charge.
He simply did not understand the stakes here. To Padme and trillions of other beings, the Republic was more than a governmental system; it was a way of life that if left to Palpatine, would be lost forever. She was not ready for that, and she never would be. Anakin was a Jedi, unaware of the freedoms and life outside the Temple, though he glimpsed it in her arms for brief moments when away from the prying eyes of the Council. He took no issue with the idea of spycams in the streets and facilities, accustomed to his every move already being broadcast within the Order. He smiled at the thought of sector governors, seeing only a way to streamline the efficiency of a corrupt system.
Well, Padme would need to do everything in her power to make him understand, before he lost himself completely in the heady assurances of the Chancellor.
I wonder if he is there now…
"Senator Amidala?" Her name being called roused Padme from her morose dread, and she looked up to see Senator Mon Mothma standing shadowed in the door to her pod. The Chandrilan senator appeared as composed as ever, but Padme saw a tightness around her lips that spoke of some new development.
"Senator, it's good to see you," Padme stood slowly from her seat, suddenly aware of the effort such motion now required. I feel so much heavier every day now. It won't be much longer, I'm afraid. "Did something happen?"
Mothma offered a brisk nod. "When does it not? But yes, I've been with the other members of the Loyalist Committee, and we've received a communication about the Jedi praxeum on H'ratth. I think you'd better come with me."
The two of them walked side by side down the long, wide Senate hall that circled the inner chamber. Around them, the building buzzed with talk of the Jedi, the assassination attempt, the Separatists. So many rumors… More than once, Padme shivered when she heard the anger in the voices around her. He's turned us against each other, to the point where no one knows who can be trusted. She watched Mon Mothma walking beside her and felt the warm glow of instinctual approval. I can trust her, I think.
Mon Mothma caught her looking and smiled, "I'm seeing that expression on more and more faces these days, my friend."
Padme flushed. "I'm sorry," and she almost told her the truth then and there, but something held her back. After all, Palpatine being the Sith Lord was an idea almost too ludicrous for anyone to believe. Senator Mothma was not overly familiar with the Jedi Order, and including the Sith legends now might be too convenient. No, she needed to stay focused on clearing the Jedi and protecting the Republic through the power of the Senate. The Jedi would need to handle Palpatine.
Mothma studiously ignored her friend's discomfort. "In here," she waved the younger Senator into a small conference room on the outer edge of the Senate chambers. "We have several transmissions already."
Padme stepped into the room and spotted over half a dozen of the Loyalist Committee members. She dipped her head to Fang Zar and Malé-Dee and clasped the hands of and Chi Eekway and Bana Breemu. Bail's absence was obvious and painful, as was Orn Free Taa's presence, the massive Twi'lek's blue body smashed into a tight chair at the head of the conference table.
"Senator Amidala!" he called, stretching both meaty hands out to her. "The Jedi seem determined to make trouble for all of us."
"That remains to be seen, Senator Taa," Padme replied, cold frost tinging her tone as she thought of him under the sway of Palpatine. A spy in their ranks, so to speak. She nodded to Giddean Danu and Nee Alavar, both of whom sat next to Orn Free Taa at the table. Behind the tall, handsome Kuati senator, a large Holonet screen ran a short loop of grainy figures, and they appeared to be…fighting?
Alarmed now, Padme moved past the table. "Is this the start?" she demanded. "What's going on?"
Beside her, the Thesmian senator, Silya Shessaun, suddenly appeared and spoke in a near whisper, "Padme, it's awful. It appears that the Jedi on H'ratth tried to force their way past the clones. They killed many of them."
Her heart dropped in her chest. "Clones? Or Jedi?"
"Both," Nee Alavar ground out, her beautiful and normally pale face now red with helpless frustration. She joined Padme and Silya at the screen, staring up at the now frozen images. "It's bad, very bad."
Padme furiously blinked back tears. "Then start at the beginning."
Mon Mothma, still calm and composed, moved to the opposite end of the table from Orn Free Taa. "The beginning started several hours ago, Padme. From what we can see in the footage, the incident began with an argument between one of the convalescing Jedi and the local commander of the assigned ARC troopers." She reached down and compressed a panel in the table.
The image disappeared and revealed a new scene, a young Jedi in dark clothes with striking blond hair and a powerful jaw, caught up in a heated discussion with a faceless ARC commando. Padme nearly gasped at the similarities she saw to Anakin, felt the pressure squeeze tight around her chest. It's not Anakin! Calm down.
"That's Jedi Knight Lute Juube," Mothma pointed out. "He was the catalyst, by all appearances. Watch closely, Padme."
She did, her sharp eyes catching the moment when Juube thrust his fingers into the chest armor of the commander, his blue eyes wild with anger. Another ARC trooper, a subordinate, reached out and shoved the Jedi back, bringing up his blaster in a clear warning. Padme's breath snagged in her throat.
No.
She could barely see the Jedi's response, it was so swift. The bright flush of a blue lightsaber, and the front of the blaster sheared away just as the trooper squeezed the trigger. Almost instantly, the barrel of the blaster overloaded and exploded, cracking the ARC trooper's armor and shredding his flesh. The subordinate's body slammed into his leader and sent both tumbling down the steep front steps of the praxeum.
Padme watched horror and then determination cross the young Jedi's face. Juube strode down the stairs, his lightsaber deflecting the sporadic fire from the clones at the bottom. The Jedi turned and shouted something back at the praxeum's entrance, but the sound was muffled.
Mothma paused the recording. "Preliminary analysis suggests that Knight Juube was attempting to rally the other Jedi to action. Whether or not that will remain true with deeper sound dissection, you can see what happens next."
Stop the video! Padme wanted to shout but could not pull her gaze away. Nearly a dozen Jedi poured from the main doors, their lightsabers a kaleidoscope of green and blue hues. Twi'leks, Niktos, even a small Weequay whose blade wielded a deadly force. Most of the Jedi already sustained wounds of varying degrees, but they remained potent threats. The clones at the bottom caught multiple reflections and went down hard. One clone in the far lower right of the screen readied a missile launcher on his shoulder and released it into the clump of Jedi coming down the stairs.
Padme felt the explosion in her bones as she watched in horror at the body parts and blood filling the center of the screen. At least six of the Jedi had to be dead, and down below Juube let out a wordless roar and hurled himself at the munitions trooper.
Beside her, Silya Shessaun forced back a gag reflex as the trooper's head went flying. Mothma's steely blue gaze never left the screen as she paused it again. "The investigative reporter indicates that he fled the scene at this point, fearing the Jedi would locate and kill him next. However, he states that Knight Juube was killed in the return fire of a new wave of clones on the scene. Military headquarters so far has only confirmed that multiple Jedi were able to break through the lines and escape into the rough terrain around the praxeum. One of these individuals was a Jedi master, Tuquese Skeev."
Orn Free Taa growled from his place at the other end of the table. "Ran like cowards, but what did we expect? Only guilty beings run like that, Senator Mothma. What do you think they might be running from, hm?"
Fang Zar pulled on his thick beard. "In our Republic, Senator Taa, the accused are usually innocent until proven guilty," he scolded. "We certainly don't know what caused this incident to escalate, since we have one, perhaps two recordings at most. And we have no reason to connect this tragedy with the assassination attempt here on Coruscant."
"Well said," Giddean Danu's grim line of a mouth turned down. "But H'ratth is troubling all the same in its timing if nothing else."
"I agree," Malé-Dee murmured, bright red top-knot bobbing with his nod. "Show her the rest, Senator Mothma, please."
Mon Mothma pressed the console once more, and new footage blazed to life. This new scene was smoky and chaotic, showing the praxeum in flames in the distance; the reporter had clearly taken up a position much further away. Tiny figures knelt on the broken steps, armored troops moving among them. Several TX-130 tanks could also be seen hovering in the background, turrets trained on the complex. Padme squinted, leaned closer.
The reporter's voice was hushed, frantic, his breath coming in rapid gulps that overwhelmed the microphone's receiver in gusts, "And you can see for yourselves, the rebellion here appears – appears to have failed, but I know many Jedi got away. If they get off this planet, if they come for the government, gods forbid if the other temples do the same thing-"
"Turn it off!" Padme exclaimed sharply, blood draining from her face. "I've seen enough. I don't need to hear his wild commentary."
"It's conjecture," Silya tried to comfort her. "He doesn't know what's happening either, Padme. He's scared."
Padme paced across the room, throwing her hands out. "Only conjecture? Come now, Senators, we all know what that can do to those of us who are frightened. They'll hear this, and they'll subconsciously agree with him. The audio will present a biased view against the Jedi Order." This is exactly how Palpatine would like it to go, too.
Orn Free Taa preened at that. "Like it or not, Senator Amidala, the rest of the Senate will view this footage in short order. We owe them our honesty in such precarious times."
Padme glared at him and approached Mon Mothma. "Who supplied these videos, Senator? Did the Office of the Supreme Chancellor deliver them to you?"
Mothma shook her head. "No, Padme. This footage came straight from the Holonet company that filmed it. It's already local news in the H'ratth system and several others. We can't hide this for long, and unfortunately, Senator Taa is correct. We shouldn't."
"We are supposed to be impartial, Padme," Chi Eekway had not moved from her place at the table, but her blue face was pinched and withdrawn. "We will do everything we possibly can to make certain the Jedi are given fair treatment in this investigation."
Padme's gaze slid to Orn Free Taa, who smiled at her. "Of course we will," his hollow words echoed in her skull. She slipped into one of the chairs, feeling as though her bones had been sucked from her body, unable to stand any longer. This is indeed very bad.
The ramifications could be staggering.
Even if Palpatine were not directly involved, the Jedi's aggression would be seen as one more damning piece of evidence. The H'ratth Incident (as she was already labeling it in her mind) could be the end of civility in this investigation. Once Palpatine returned to his office, the situation would only grow worse. She would have to stand and face him, watching that grim and knowing smile that was both so familiar and alien, watching her husband at his side.
Padme shuddered. The child within her turned, churning. She was going to be sick.
A slender hand dropped to her shoulder. Above her, Mon Mothma radiated concern. "Are you all right, my dear?"
Padme swallowed hard. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm just overwhelmed by all of this."
"We all are," Fang Zar commiserated, coming over to pat her hand gently.
You have no idea, she wanted to tell him, staring into the lined, blank features of his face. Would any of them believe her?
No…no, the only ones who believed her were the Jedi themselves. She thought of the Council and wondered if they knew yet. The thought galvanized her. They needed to know, but not through the Chancellor's office or the Senate. She would go to them alone and together, they would determine the best course of action.
If there is such a thing, a tiny cynical portion of her mind told her as she abruptly excused herself from the suffocating room.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Author's Notes:
The quote at the beginning comes from George Eliot.
My goodness, I've been AWOL for a while… I took a wrong turn at Saturn on a mission and ended up in the next galaxy over. It took a while to find a way back. Real life has a tendency to catch up to me with a vengeance. On that note, life is greatly changed, but briefly stabilized. Henceforth, I bring you some more writing. I've been attempting to work out the end of Part 1, and the good news is, I've written multiple chapters. The bad news is, I have yet to write several in-between chapters, so updates may not be terribly often until I get those hammered out. I apologize for that, but I will do the best I can, and I am determined to finish this story, definitely before starting and posting other multi-chapter stories which I confess to beginning this summer.
In the time I've been gone, many things have changed in this galaxy: new books, new canon, new movies coming soon, etc. I'll address those things eventually, probably on my profile page. However, Numero Uno: Palpatine has a first name now…oh my…I guess since he and I are buddies, I need to start calling him Sheev… Sheev, how I have missed you! (*cue Sithly snicker and subsequent Sith Lightning-induced pain).
For all those still interested in this tall tale, thanks for all your kind reviews, your favs, and your follows. I am pleased that I can bring at least some entertainment to you through my writing.