Chapter 21: Vulnerati Tyrannus

-Part Two-

The Senate Rotunda was packed. The decadent circular stadium and the thousands of parked pods lining its sloped walls filled with beings from all corners of the galaxy. A gentle roar of chatter stirred on the air; the telling sign of unrest and nervousness amongst the gathered senators. Sat quietly in her pod, Padmé stared at her fingers, savouring each polished curve as they traced longingly over the delicate crystals embedded in her wrist-com.

Last night had been rough, and after returning from Bail's apartment, she'd barely slept, managed to hold down a meager two bites of her breakfast and was running on fumes. She truly was tired, and she couldn't stop thinking about Anakin. About how he hadn't answered any of her calls or made any attempt at contacting her. Now there was this solid ball of dread that sat like a weighted lump inside her chest. And to make matters worse, she was about to come face-to-face with the man who was behind most of her troubles.

"Padmé..." Bail said, leaning in close to whisper quietly in her ear. "Is everything alright? You left rather suddenly last night."

She tensed, but didn't look up. "I was tired."

"I know," pressed Bail, seemingly unsatisfied. "But I thought... perhaps..."

Dazedly, she lingered over one of the cool obsidian stones; the glossy rock as black as her husband's armour, as polished as the curved lenses in his mask. For a blink she could see and feel him, could see the domed helmet and angular mask looking back at her — a mien as familiar to her now as his rugged face used to be. Motion stirred in her abdomen at the thought, and a despondent sigh escaped her lips. "I'm fine, Bail. Really. Please... I don't want to talk about it."

The Alderaanian Viceroy fell silent for a moment, but his gaze remained steadily fixed on her. She could feel his stare, his scrutinising. Bail cleared his throat. "That's quite the wrist-com you've got there," he said, breaking the awkward silence. "Remarkable craftsmanship. Where in the galaxy did you get it?"

Padmé sighed again. Heart aching, her thoughts briefly drifting back to the wrist-com's embedded holo, to the love, and pain, and memory. "It ... it was a gift."

"Well, whoever gave it to you must be very close to your heart." He chuckled then. "I haven't been able to pry your eyes away from it."

As if stung, feeling as though she had suddenly betrayed Anakin and his secret by simply revealing the com's existence, Padmé quickly tugged the sleeve of her robe down to conceal it. Nervous now, she let her hands fall to the soft black velvet of her gown-skirt, then looked up. Bail was still staring at her, his brown eyes curious and full of questions.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you, Padmé," he said, apologising. "It's just ... well after seeing you last night, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried about you. You're not yourself."

Padmé shook her head. No, she wasn't herself. Bail was right. But she couldn't exactly think straight either. What with the constant worry and fatigue. All she knew right now, was that she was tired. So very tired. She shivered, and the ball of dread suddenly swelled, stole her breath and brought with it a bone-numbing chill that had her skin prickled. She looked up at the Rotunda, saw the ominous sleek pedestal slowly rising in the centre ... and then, as the occupants became clear ... she saw him.

Emperor Palpatine. Darth Sidious. Her husband's Sith master. The hood of his customary black robe drawn low, hiding his painfully familiar and disfigured face. He stood safely nestled between two of his most loyal flunkies: the blue Chagrian vizier; Mas Amedda, and the pale-faced Umbaran; Sly Moore.

Padmé could tell he was looking at her. Those cold, menacing yellow eyes of his staring down at her in the pod, like she was some precious new toy he couldn't wait to get his hands on. And she suddenly felt vulnerable ... and afraid ... and very, very exposed.

"Chilling, isn't he?" Bail again whispered in her ear. He paused. "And to think, Padmé... we did this. All of us here in this Senate. We voted for him."

Padmé could only stare up at the podium, paralysed. Her body stiff and rigid, frozen like ice.

"Order!" the Chagrian vizier barked, slamming down his staff, the resounding bang so loud she almost leapt from her seat. "We shall have order!"

The rotunda fell silent, and Emperor Palpatine moved forward to the podium's microphone to address the Senate.

"Honourable members of the Senate," Palpatine started, the meticulously perfect facade of the benevolent Supreme Chancellor firmly in place. "I have called you all here on this day to discuss urgent matters that have been presented to me by our diligent heads of security. Once again, our beloved systems are under threat. Not by Separatists or droid armies, but by means of malicious lies and deceit. Lies fabricated and spread by our own people, the likes of whom stand amongst us in this exact room.

"These people ... these dissidents ... are determined to undermine the legitimacy and stability of our government," he continued, his voice growing more impassioned with each word. "Allying themselves with traitors. Harbouring dangerous fugitives and conspiring to strike against us."

Chatter and whispers suddenly erupted from the pods, and Palpatine paused —seemingly for dramatic effect— allowing the discontent and mistrust to fester and rot within the Senate. Padmé glanced around, noted the finger-pointing and agitated body language of the Senators either side. He was playing them to a tee, and as always, his loyal audience willfully swallowed the bait. Hook, line and sinker.

"He still knows how to manipulate a crowd," Bail commented, quiet enough so that only she could hear.

Oh Bail, you have no idea, Padmé thought. She laid her hand over the robe covered wrist-com, forced herself to lean back, and tried to settle in for what was going to be one very long day. "Yes, Bail," she said quietly. "So, it would seem."

STAR DESTROYER EXACTOR: HYPERSPACE

"Inhibitor chip located," the modified 2-1B surgical-droid working the bed scanner stated as the fluorescent blue lasers swept around and over Commander Cody's head inside the capsule. "Performing diagnostic scan now."

Arms folded at his chest; Vader loomed over the scanner read-out console in his private med-bay waiting for the droid to announce its diagnosis. Every scan would yield the same result, of course, regardless of patient. A fault would soon be identified in the chip and his modified droid would immediately recommend its removal, just as he'd programmed it to. The procedure was flawless, and since the droid's uplink to the Imperial mainframe network had been permanently severed, it was most importantly, discreet.

"Cody was rather apprehensive about coming in here, my lord," Vill said from across the theatre, leaning on the door. "He said every time he and his men were taken to the med-centre, only half of them ever returned."

"I am aware of that, Commander," Vader said flatly. "However appreciable as his concerns may be, they do not negate the necessity of this procedure."

Vill moved to stand across from him on the other side of Cody's feet and folded his arms. "Because of Order 151?"

Vader's breathing caught. Furious, he clenched his jaw and snapped his helmet up from the console to glare at the trooper. A sudden moment of tension passed between them. Then, evidently realising the magnitude of his mistake, Vill shifted beneath his stare and lowered his eyes. He cautiously studied the trooper a minute longer before returning his attention to the scanner console. "That ... among other reasons," Vader ground out, working hard to bring his anger back under control.

"Diagnostic scan complete," announced the droid, oblivious to the hostility surrounding it in the theatre. "Critical fault identified. Inhibitor chip functionality is compromised. Immediate extraction recommended."

Vader nodded and gave the order: "Proceed."

The droid quickly set to work, ignorant of the two agitated men stood accompanying it. Neither man spoke; the sterile med-bay alive with the constant beeps of medical monitors, the whine and sizzle of surgical lasers, and the steady rasp in-and-out of the Dark Lord's respirator.

After several more minutes, Commander Vill finally broke their silence. "Forgive me, my lord," he said quietly, sheepishly. "I — I meant no disrespect."

Vader slowly lifted his head to regard the trooper. There was obvious sincerity in the man's unease, and the knowledge settled his ire somewhat. Vill was fiercely loyal to him, an independent loyalty that had been proven more than once over time. And with his chip having been removed roughly six standard months ago, there was no risk of him being remotely commanded to execute the more singularly-targeted version of Order 66.

It also meant that if such an order did happen to be issued, if the clones still under influence of their inhibitor chips did suddenly turn on him, Vill would be right by his side, willing to die, willing to kill his very own brothers in order to protect him. For that reason, and perhaps that reason alone; he could forgive him. Still, he couldn't have him broadcasting his knowledge of that specific order to anyone, let alone be discussing it within earshot of any of the clones still susceptible to it.

Standing tall, Vader squared his shoulders and stabbed the space between him and the trooper with his finger. "You will not speak of that again," he warned lowly. Seriously. "Do I make myself clear, Commander?"

Vill slumped forward, as if all air had suddenly been let go out of him, and lowered his head. "Yes, sir. I misspoke. I'm sorry, sir."

The surgical lasers whirred to a stop and the 2-1B droid announced its success. The procedure was complete. Impatient, spurred into motion by the sudden desire to slow time, Vader strode around the foot of the bed and waited behind Commander Vill. With every second his ship drew nearer to Coruscant. Every minute he got closer to his Master. And these troopers —these pre-programmed clones— had to be freed of their controls before they reached orbit.

Commander Cody sat up on the scanner and sluggishly rubbed at the fresh scar on the right side of his head. He groaned and went to stand.

"Easy soldier," Vill said, dropping his hand heavily onto Cody's shoulder to ground him. "You've just had surgery, give it a minute. The haze will pass shortly."

"What ... what happened?" Cody muttered, his eyes slowly lifting from the floor to focus on Vill, then shifting over his shoulder to regard Vader standing behind him. Vader offered no response, and the convalescent trooper redirected his attention, and his questions, back to Vill. "What was that all about?"

"Ah, that. Well, you've just had your inhibitor chip removed. I suppose you could call it your initiation," Vill said. He chuckled and offered the man his hand. "Congratulations Commander, you're officially one of us now. Welcome to the First Legion."

Leaving the two men to discuss their situation, Vader returned to the droid, gave the order for it to prepare the remaining three consoles for operation and went to leave. As he approached the exit, Cody stopped him by the door.

Standing to attention, the trooper commander offered him a full salute. "Lord Vader," he said, his voice loud and proud.

Vader's throat constricted at the sight. That was a trooper's way of showing respect and gratitude toward their commanding officer, and it was a gesture that wasn't lost on the dark lord. He hooked his thumbs to his belt and nodded back. "At ease, Commander," he said. "I must leave you now, I am required on the bridge. As for the two of you, I want you to remain here and see that the rest of your men undergo the procedure."

He spun on his heel and strode through the door. "You have three hours, gentlemen. Make the most of them."

CORUSCANT: SENATE BUILDING

Standing by the long transparisteel wall in one of the senatorial meeting rooms, dressed in her floor-length black gown and robe, Padmé watched the busy Coruscant midday traffic criss-crossing the skylanes. Seated behind her were Bail and Mon Mothma, along with a handful of other senators they were hoping to sway to their rebellion cause. And emotions were running high.

Not only due to Palpatine's inflammatory speech in the rotunda minutes before he'd called for the mid-session break, but because on their way to this meeting, they'd bore witness to a considerably shocking and disturbing event. Yarua, the Wookie senator for Kashyyyk, and her two aides had been arrested. Wrists manacled, the three of them had howled in protest as they were marched unceremoniously through the corridors by the Coruscant guard. Now everyone was afraid.

"More star destroyers. More trooper patrols. A galaxy wide census?" one of the senators declared.

Padmé didn't need to turn around to know who that was, she recognised his voice. Senator Ask Aak, the three-eyed Gran representative for Malastare. Even though he'd been a passionate member of the Loyalist Committee before and during the Clone War, he and Bail had often found themselves at odds with each other. Especially when it came to discussing the conflict with the Separatists. Where Bail had been like her, wanting to pursue a more diplomatic solution to the dispute, Ask Aak had been adamant on their need for an army.

"This is an outrage!" Aak continued, "my people are already tired of being subjected to identity scans before they travel. When will it stop?"

"I'm afraid it isn't going to stop, Senator Aak," said Mon Mothma. "Things are only going to get worse. Far worse. That is why we've called everyone here. So, we can discuss options."

Options, Padmé thought, inwardly rolling her eyes. Mon Mothma could call it whatever she wanted. At the end of the day, what she was proposing to them was still treason.

"Options? Senator Mothma, you can't be serious," Senator Danu of Kuat contested. He waved toward the door as if pointing at something. "Did you not see what just happened to the Wookie Senator?"

"I don't think the arrests are isolated to Senator Yarua," the Corellian Senator; Garm Bel Iblis added grimly. "If what my source tells me is accurate, the whole of Kashyyyk has been taken over by the Empire."

"Taken over?" the soft-spoken Humbarine Senator; Bana Breemu echoed incredulously. "You are certain of this?"

"My source and his crew were at the trading outpost preparing for their return trip to Corellia, when Darth Vader and his troopers attacked," Bel Iblis said. "When they fled the facility, they flew over one of the nearby villages and saw hundreds of Wookies being loaded onto some sort of military transport ship. Their suspicions were further solidified when they spotted a huge prison barge accompanying the Imperial blockade."

Padmé turned from the window to see the other Senators all looking to Bail for confirmation. Being one of the most senior serving members of the Senate, his opinions were more often than not sought after by others and well-respected. An admiration that she herself had once shared, up until more recent events.

Bana Breemu adjusted the shimmering hood of her silk blue dress-robe and spoke up first. "Senator Organa, is this true?"

Opening his mouth to respond, Bail paused when a chorus of beeps rang from all corners of the room. Padmé pulled out her datapad, as did everyone else, and checked the alert. It was an urgent security notification from Mas Amedda. All transfers to and from the Wookie planet were now prohibited until further notice. Kashyyyk had just been officially declared as being under martial law. Oh, this wasn't good. Padmé lifted her gaze from the pad to survey the room and a round of muted gasps sounded from each of the chairs.

"Well, Senator Breemu... does that answer your question?" Garm Bel Iblis demanded, rising from his seat. Clearly agitated, he started to pace aimlessly around the room.

"Senator..." Mothma called after him, "I understand this development is concerning. But please, I urge you to sit back down. Divided, we are powerless to stop this. But if we stand together—"

"Like before, Senator Mothma?" Danu interjected scornfully. "Like we did with the petition? Has it been so long already that you've forgotten what the ISB did to Senator Alavar?"

The Corellian representative spun in place and stabbed the air with his finger. "Let's not forget about Darth Vader being called in to assassinate Senator Fang Zar," he added. "We're already being picked off one-by-one as a result of that petition. Anything else we do will merely be used as evidence against us in our own incarcerations."

Rising to his feet, Bail turned to face Bel Iblis head on. "Your reaction is precisely what the Empire is striving to achieve, Senator Iblis," the Alderaanian countered. "If we continue to do nothing ... if we allow fear to force us into inaction ... we are effectively condemning our communities to a lifetime of servitude and oppression. Any one of our homeworlds could soon become the next Kashyyyk."

Bail shot a brief glance over his shoulder to Padmé for support, but she simply folded her arms and chose not to respond. Where was the point? Motivation-wise, the other Senators were already on his side, but fear of repercussion was successfully keeping them from committing to anything. And she couldn't blame them. Independently, none of them stood even the slightest of chances against the growing Empire. A chance that was still only marginally improved if they all joined forces together. Violence was not going to be the answer here —not yet at least.

"What are you suggesting we do, Senator Organa?" Bana Breemu asked.

Senator Ask Aak jumped in before Bail could say another word. "We go after Vader," the Gran representative said. "Without the direction of their ruthless Supreme Commander, the Imperial army will be lost. If we can take him out, it might just scare the Empire enough to make them think twice about striking against any of our systems."

And, as if somehow knowing that that comment would be enough to spur her into finally getting involved in the debate, Bail shot Padmé another —not so subtle— sideways glance. She dutifully ignored the look, catalogued it in the back of her mind under: I will have to deal with that later, and instead focused her attention solely on the Senator for Malastare.

Taking one determined step from the window, Padmé thrust her hands to her hips. "Senators, have you all really learned so little from the Clone Wars?" All cordiality aside, she allowed her simmering anger and frustration to rise to the surface. "How many of you in this room, personally took up a blaster and fought the Separatists alongside the Jedi?" She looked between them then, as they each stared at her in a sudden stunned and awkward silence.

"I did," Padmé continued. "And I can tell you right now —as the Jedi would have, had they survived— that violence doesn't solve anything. The only thing it does guarantee, is more violence. Senators, I implore you to remember; we are politicians, not generals or soldiers. Our place is in the Senate. Our duty is to our people. To speak on their behalf and solve any grievances they may have politically, and by means of civil and constructive diplomatic debate. Not by declaring war and taking up arms against one another."

Mon Mothma shot her a warning glance, as if to say: Careful Padmé, you are overstepping your place. "Senator Amidala," Mothma said condescendingly, still holding her icy stare. "Since your however unplanned extended leave of absence has fortunately kept you away from the many questionable events leading up until this moment, I believe you may have misunderstood the gravity of the situation we are currently dealing with. The Imperial Senate is not what it used to be—"

"No, Senator Mothma. On the contrary, I understand perfectly," Padmé said indignantly, folding her arms over her chest and cutting the Chandrilan Senator off mid-sentence. "The Imperial Armed Forces are larger and more powerful than any one of us in this room can possibly imagine. And while Senator Aak may argue, that taking out the Empire's reigning Commander-in-chief is what he believes to be, the best course of action; he is wrong.

"As powerful and mysterious as Darth Vader may be, he is still only serving as Emperor Palpatine's main enforcer. If someone does manage to take him down, I suspect yet another ambitious Imperial will likely be promoted in his place. Tell me, Senators... why in the galaxy would you aim to take out the right-hand, when you could aim for the head instead?"

Padmé paused for a moment, and allowed them all to chew over her statement. This plan was rash, and it was something she'd only come up with on the spur of the moment, but if it worked, it had the potential to give her just the leverage she needed over Palpatine. No doubt she would be hearing an earful from the fiery Chandrilan Senator after the day was through, but that was the least of her worries. After all, there were only two people left alive in this corrupted and Force-forsaken galaxy that she truly feared... and Mon Mothma certainly wasn't one of them.

Bail soon moved to join Padmé by the window. He looked her straight in the eyes, patted her shoulder and smiled, as if he were praising one of the young legislative cadets. "Alright Senator Amidala, would you care to enlighten us?" he said, encouragingly, throwing his hand out and gesturing widely to the circle of senators. "I think I speak for everyone here in this room, when I say, you have our undivided attention."

• • •

Mask of his alter-ego put aside for now, safe inside the sanctuary of his private office, Darth Sidious sat staring contemplatively out the sweeping transparisteel wall over his dominion, methodically drumming his fingers on the armrests of his chair.

"The Wookie Senator and her cohort have been taken into custody, My Lord," Mas Amedda said, interrupting his thoughts. "I have done as you instructed, and sent the security notification out to all members, informing them of the respective changes to the Intergalactic trade routes."

Sidious sneered. He turned from the window to face the vizier and clasped his hands neatly together upon his gleaming obsidian desk. "Ah, good... That should be enough to bait our enemies, and tempt them from their protective little hidey holes."

Amedda stepped closer, his blue horns twitching. "What now, My Lord?"

"For now, Vizier ... we wait." He lowered his gaze to the desk's data terminal and busied himself with the mundane responsibilities of being the ever-doting emperor of the galaxy. "We wait and see ... how many rats we catch in our trap."

The com-alarm rang on his private channel garnering his immediate, unfettered attention. With a speed unbefitting of a man his long years, Sidious quickly flicked the controls and activated his desk's inbuilt transceiver, all but snarling when he answered. "Yes, Sergeant. What is it?"

"My Emperor, we've just received confirmation from Port Control. The ISD Exactor and her two escorts have dropped out of lightspeed and are preparing to enter orbit. You said, you wanted to be informed the very instant they arrived."

Sidious felt a smile tug at his lips, a genuine and almost sickening smile. His apprentice had returned, had he? Excellent. Steepling his fingers on the desk, he gently tapped the tips together one by one and stretched out toward him with the Force. "Indeed, I did, Sergeant. Thank you," he said distantly. "Have Captain Kagi ready my shuttle and bring it to my office at once. And inform Lord Vader on his arrival, that I await his full and immediate report at the palace."

• • •

Back in her pod, Padmé found her chair, sat down and blew out a long breath. Never far behind, Bail promptly took his seat right beside her.

"You know, Padmé," Bail said leaning forward, "that was quite a show you put on in there. You almost had me scared for a moment. And you know I don't scare easily."

Padmé raised a brow at him. "Scared, Bail? Whatever for?"

He chuckled. "Well, one minute you were this timid young thing, hovering by the window ... and the next you were unloading on Mothma and the others like they'd just butchered your pet loth cat." He shook his head and smiled wryly at her. "You, my lady, were truly intimidating."

She sighed, shrugged her shoulders and looked back to the empty rotunda. "I'm not that young, Bail. Besides, I don't like being spoken down to like I am some sort of naive little child."

"No. Well, you certainly made that clear." He took her hand in his, and gently squeezed. "Just for the record, Padmé. I've never thought of you that way."

She looked down to their entwined hands, then lifted her eyes to stare silently at him, growing increasingly aware of Commander Bly's presence at the rear of the pod. Anakin was going to be furious if he found out about this. Mentally, Padmé willed him to let go, to see the mistake he was making. But he didn't. Oh, Bail, what are you doing?

Still he held on. So, apparently it was down to her to be the bad guy. Wonderful. Ever so gently, paying careful attention not to hurt her long friend's feelings, Padmé feigned a shiver, extricated her hand from under his, and tugged the edges of her robe in tight to her chest. "Is it cold in here?" she asked looking down. "I — I think the heating must be broken."

Pulling his hand back, Bail sighed, stood up and immediately started to unbutton his tunic. "Here, take my coat. I don't need it," he offered, his voice noticeably more guarded than before.

Feeling slightly guilty, Padmé shook her head and waved him back down. "That's very kind of you, Bail. But, no, thank you. I think I can manage."

Saved by the bell it seemed. The chime announcing the recommencement of the meeting rang and echoed throughout the still filling rotunda. Padmé shifted in her seat and tried to relax, then, chancing a cautious glance over her right shoulder, watched Bail do the same. She let out a long breath and stared at the centre podium as it slowly rose into position. Only, when it came to a stop in the middle of the stadium and the occupants finally became visible, she noticed someone missing.

"So, no emperor. How interesting," Bail said. He spread his knees apart slightly and pushed further back in the seat. "It would appear this meeting isn't quite as important as it was made out to be."

A sharp and uncomfortable twisting churned in her belly. Padmé blinked instinctively at the pain and did her best to ignore it. "Or, maybe it is... and a more important, more urgent meeting has been brought to his attention."

Bail snorted. "Hah! Right. What could possibly be more important than further subverting the many willing minions in his illustrious Empire?"

The twisting sensation intensified and she suddenly felt sick. She was miles from the nearest fresher, and if she stood up now, she wasn't sure she would even make it. Bad timing —very, very bad timing. With a sigh, she rubbed her stomach to try and settle it, and slowly turned to look at him. "Honestly, Bail... I don't know."

AUTHOR'S NOTE

So I decided to do a double upload and split this chapter into three parts instead of two. It became too long and I felt like the third part really needed its own space to breathe. FYI, the next part was heavily influenced by the song Hurricane, by Fleurie (just in case any of you are interested in that sort of thing)

Quick shout out to Sfloresf, princesselsaamidala22 and Guest for your reviews. And my heartfelt thanks to everyone who has followed/favourited my story, you guys are amazing.

Guest: I know what you mean.

princesselsaamidala22: aww shucks, you made me blush, lol.

Sfloresf: Yeah, Vader might have come across a little over-powered in that chapter, but that was kind of the point. I liken the relationship between him and Sidious similar to that of the one between a circus Lion and his trainer. That mental control the trainer constantly reinforces to keep the teeth end of the lion far away from him.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy these two chapters.

And, as always, MTFBWY.