Mas Amedda had been hastily awakened from his slumber. A group of Senate Guards, clad in their blue-tinted armor barged into his apartment, searching it thoroughly, deaf to his protests. "I am the Vice Chair of the Senate, this is without precedence. What are you doing?" The Guards didn't react to him until they were assured that his apartment was secured. The head officer of the detachment, a lieutenant, approached him and stood at attention. Crisp, formal, parade ready. Probably the child or the nephew of a Senator, Amedda thought. "What is the reason of this intrusion, lieutenant?", Amedda asked, his voice full of indignation.

The lieutenant didn't answer directly. With his movements still sharp and ceremonial, he pulled out a small holoprojector from his utility belt. "Hold for the Chief Justice."

Wyrlob Dyson, the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court appeared in front of Mas Amedda in his full official regalia. "Vice Chancellor Mas Amedda, Senator of Changria, I hereby inform you that Continuity of Government protocols are in effect". The Chief Justice spoke those nineteen words with the cold dispassion of a jurist that had a role to fulfill according to the stipulations of the Constitution. If he had any personal opinions about the issue, any deep private thoughts of where the Republic was heading, of what would happen now that the highest position of they institution that they both serve would change hands again so recently after an election, Mas Amedda couldn't tell. I can't even say for myself, damn it.

"I understand", the Changrian replied, unsure for perhaps the first time in his life of what else he could say.

"Very well. Raise your right hand and repeat after me. I, Mas Amedda…"

A few minutes later

He had asked for a few minutes on his own, in an attempt to compose himself.

I am the Supreme Chancellor.

The idea was alien to him, the very concept of taking that seat for his own, almost unbelievable. Mas Amedda wasn't a man that entertained fantasies. He knew that he didn't have the political capital for taking the position. Besides he was far more comfortable having other people sell his ideas while he went about making them a reality. The Senate Floor, the backrooms, the private clubs, that was where his power laid, that was from where he exerted his will over the Galaxy.

Palpatine had been the perfect vessel for his plans. That was why he had worked so hard to put him in the Chancellor's office. A sweet, fatherly figure that could bring the floor together, a reminder that the Republic could be better, it could become what it was in the past.

And then… it hit him. Of course…Of course!

What people loved more than a living, breathing person was a martyr. And Sheev Palpatine of Naboo had all the ingredients of martyrdom. A man elected from a world that directly suffered from the Republic's weakness, inaction and corruption in order to fix those ailments, those diseases that plagued the heart of the largest institution in the Galaxy, only to fall victim to the machinations of the perpetrators of those injustices. "Yes, yes…", he repeated to nobody in particular as he rose from his sofa and moved to his office. He got comfortable and prepared to write the speech that would cement his legacy.

His legacy as the man that would fix the Republic and bring it back to its Golden Age, the man that would finish what Sheev Palpatine wanted to start, the man that would put the Corporations, the people that murdered the late Chancellor before he had even concluded a month in office, and anybody else that wanted to see the Republic burn in their place.

As Mas Amedda leaned forward on his desk, his fingers finding their way to the holographic keyboard of his computer, he pondered on how he should start. Start simple and start strong, he thought

Such a great loss...

The holoprojector shifted through a variety of images. First, the broken window of the Chancery building, then shifting to a heavily censored photo of a mangled corpse. Calling it a corpse is a generous concession, thought Queen Amidala, while she kept her face frozen, fully conforming to the queenly mask that she was wearing around her counsellors. It's more of a red pulp.

"Shall we presume that Mas Amedda is in charge now?", she asked. She knew the answer of course, basic constitutional law was one of the earliest subject that someone with her interests and aspirations studied. Her people were in shock though and she didn't wish to be cruel to them by demanding their attention.

How could they not be in shock? Nobody in their right mind would expect such a radical change in the Galaxy's political climate. A week ago, Chancellor Palpatine had taken part in the victory ceremony for Naboo's liberation, gifting his smile and a kind word of advice and encouragement to everybody around him. They might have disagreed on the need for her return, the elder statesman urging caution, like so many others around her but Padme could feel that his advice came from experience and political calculation, not the thinly veiled and at times, very obvious disbelief in her abilities that some of her other advisors exhibited.

"Yes, your Majesty", replied Sio Bibble, the Governor of Theed and the head of her Council. His right hand was at his beard, as the elder statesman thought carefully before proceeding. "The constitution is clear on the subject and he confirmed as much during his confirmation appearance before Senate"

Padme nodded. Sabe had seen that appearance, giving her the broad strokes of the Acting Chancellor's speech. "He was instrumental in getting the late Chancellor elected", the Governor continued, "and for that, he retained his position. He is a… prickly man as you yourself might have seen but he is dedicated to bringing back the Republic to its illustrious past. He will certainly push harder for a guilty sentence in the Viceroy's upcoming trial."

Padme was in agreement, at least when it came to intentions of the Changrian. Whether or not, he would be successful, it would remain to be seen. "He seems sincere", she acquiesced, "but he was also blocking every initiative that Chancellor Valorum brought up. He is a politician after all, isn't he?"

"Yes, your Majesty. I agree. Now, with your permission, I would like to present some preliminary plans about the Chancellor's fun…"

Back to the "important" stuff, Padme thought. It surprised her how easily her Council and, to her shame, herself was retreating into the familiar patterns of Naboo aloofness so short after the invasion. Nobody was asking the important questions. Was it really murder? The Acting Chancellor had pointed the finger to the Trade Federation and Padme couldn't disagree. They had invaded her planet on the flimsiest of excuses. They were bullies and bullies thought that nothing they did could bring about consequences, the ire of others. They wouldn't balk at one more atrocity would they? If that was confirmed, should they be afraid of another invasion? Could they withstand another one?

What about little Anakin? Padme averted her eyes from her counsellors momentarily, as if she was ashamed to bring a personal thought into an important Royal meeting. The Chancellor's adopted son, the sweet boy that had followed her around on Coruscant, the little boy that had so clearly been infatuated with her was nowhere to be found. Was he also missing? Was he also dead, sharing his adopted father's fate? Nobody knew anything for certain anymore.

What she knew though was that she would expedite her meeting with Captain Panaka. He had drafted a new, comprehensive defense plan for Naboo, complete with a refurbished fleet and ground forces that had teeth.

Will I have to preside over Naboo's loss of innocence?, she thought while she kept pretending to be listening to Governor Bibble

Such a great loss.

Dooku sipped his wine, an expensive vintage from Alderaan, his eyes glued at the personal HoloNet terminal that the luxury liner had provided him with. The degradation of the Republic was in full swing in front of him. A group of individuals had managed to kill the Chancellor of the Republic and in all probability, his adopted son and everybody was powerless to do anything. The Judicials were looking into the case but either through incompetence or bribery, they couldn't find any indications of foul play. Other than a few broken statues, a destroyed office and a hole in a window, they couldn't find an explanation that made sense.

The Jedi weren't proving to be any more useful. They had investigated themselves but they had agreed with the authorities. No foul play in the case of the dead Chancellor.

Dooku was disgusted, with the Jedi, with himself for not having left them earlier, with the Republic that he used to serve. All of it was rotten. All of it deserved to be destroyed, brought low, reformed. He took another sip from his drink, emptying the glass. Waving at the stewerdess, he asked for another glass. There was one thing that he believed now more than ever. The Republic and its institutions had wasted its chance with Palpatine, letting her only chance at redemption die. Palpatine's loss was great and he was sure that it would be felt for years to come. I will name a street after him on Serenno. Or perhaps an entire plaza.

I am falling. How can I be fal...

That was all Palpatine thought before he met his end on the front of an incoming speeder. His first end that is. He would die many more times in the span of a week. Or was it more. The Sith couldn't perceive how time flowed in his current state, rushing to move from body to body as they quickly decayed, none of them strong enough to contain his energy, his potential in the Force. He had planned for this eventuality, for his death but he hadn't managed to put those plans in effect just yet. There were no cloned bodies waiting for him, no hidden stashes from which he could draw to remake his rule.

Arrogance. Arrogance had defeated him. He was a megalomaniac, certainly but he could see when he had made a mistake. And now all of his plans, all of the time that he had spent bringing himself to the peak of power within the Republic as well as within the Order had been for nothing. The future of the Sith would be in child's hands. A child that had the potential to be more powerful than him, definetely more powerful than the "luminaries" of the Jedi Order but a child nonetheless. Will the Sith be angry with me? With Darth Bane, Darth Zannah, Cognus, Tenebrous, even that fool Plagueis torture me for eternity?

He would know soon enough. With each essence transfer, he was growing weaker. He could hear the tendrils of Chaos coming closer. He could feel an eternity of torment inching closer and closer.

And Darth Sidious was afraid.

His last thoughts drifted back to Hypori, when he had killed Maul. Back then he had thought that the Zabrak's death costed him next to nothing. That it wasn't a great loss. Now, as he was about to be engulfed by the shrieking blackness of Chaos, as all of his plans for an unending dominion, his unending dominion were coming to an end, he realized that he had been mistaken.

It was such a great loss.

Such a great loss.

Author's Notes:

-I tried something different this time. I read the Stand during the quarantine and I was drawn to the infamous "No Great Loss" chapter in that book. I tried recreating that magic with what I think is mixed results. But I also think I got the point I wanted to across. Even in death, Palpatine's hand will be visible in the Galaxy for years to come, the lives that he touched and his effect on the Galaxy at large will still be significant. A smaller point that I tried getting across was Palpatine's strategy of being "everything to everyone". All of those close to him projected what they wanted to see on him.

-The next chapter will be an epilogue. Darth Vader's story though is not complete and indeed this will not be its end. Exactly because it has gone to a place I didn't expect much more quickly than I expected it, I have decided to turn it into the jumping off point to a wider story.

-Once again, thank you for your comments and interest in the story.

-Till we meet again.