Peace has settled upon the galaxy. The Empire is ashes, and the Republic reigns. Chancellor Mon Mothma seeks re-election with the promise of reforming the Republic, squashing conflict on the Outer Rim, and eliminating corruption.
A violent war rages among the Five Crime Syndicates in the wake of Jabba the Hutt's death. A mysterious assassin acts on behalf of Rotta the Hutt's order, quietly stalking the violent Black Sun organization's leadership.
In the Unknown Region, Grand Admiral Thrawn nears completion of his plan to return to the Galaxy. He turns to Ezra Bridger, seeking his help one final time to enact his plans. . .
Coruscant, 9 ABY
Chancellor Mon Mothma gazed into the mirror as a trio of aids fluttered around her, refreshing her makeup, adjusting her gown, and rattling off reminders on her poise and presence on the debate stage. Her gaze shifted toward a trio of men huddled in the corner. She watched as the youngest of the three, fellow Chandrilan and chief speechwriter, Aven Bryton, attempted to persuade the older of the two aids, Chief of Staff, Yishun Tannah, and Operations Manager, Justid Bour. The older men's body language broadcasted their opposition to Bryton's entreaty, and Mon Mothma frowned at the animated dissent unfolding among her closest advisors.
Her opponent in her re-election for Chancellor, the Senator from Eriadu, Baz Brasaar, had been relentless in his attacks, and the resulting public opinion polling depicted her campaign careening into a tailspin. Brasaar had surged from a 17-point deficit to a statistical tie, giving him the momentum in the final months of the campaign.
The trio broke apart, with Aven visibly frustrated and Yishun and Justid both appearing equally annoyed. She turned her gaze back to her reflection, regarding the deepening lines around her mouth and her eyes. No amount of makeup could fully hide the physical and emotional toll of the last 15 years. As she counted the new lines obscured by the layers of makeup, she thought to herself, it was all so much easier when we knew who we were fighting.
"Your excellency, we have 10 minutes before debate, and we wished to review once more," Yishun said as he approached.
Mon Mothma's eyes darted back to Aven, who settled into a chair, stewing in his resentment. Justid stood beside Yishun, shifting back and forth nervously as he clutched his data pad. Mon Mothma nodded to Yishun to proceed.
"Now, we know that Brasaar is going to attack you on the Reparations Act, the military drawdown, and the conflicts on the Outer Rim. Looking over the polling, we know that keeping the high road on these attacks has helped maintain our base, and if our base turns out, we believe we can win," Yishun explained.
"And what about the polling on voter enthusiasm?" Mon Mothma asked.
Yishun hesitated, saying, "It's true that enthusiasm has waned. However, the antipathy toward our opponent remains high."
"How much longer can we continue to rely on antipathy as political capital?" Mon Mothma asked, her voice tired. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Aven had looked up from his ruminations.
"Brasaar has the support of former Imperial worlds and most of the re-constructed Imperial corporations. This is not lost on the voters," Yishun countered as Justid nodded his head fervently.
"And the tepid support for our agenda is not lost on me. In fact, can we even be sure our agenda is penetrating given all of the countervailing media winds?" Mon Mothma asked.
"This is our best chance to make that case. If we tell them what we stand for. . ." Bour asserted mildly.
"Then it gives Senator Brasaar something else to attack," Mon Mothma sighed.
Yishun hesitated, then summoning his nerve, said, "We need to tell the people what we stand for. We stand for freedom; for democracy; for fairness."
Mon Mothma again noticed Aven look up from his ruminations, this time with an evident scowl. The makeup artist and wardrobe aid had finished their work and both stood back, regarding her appraisingly. Justid looked at Mon Mothma anxiously, and Yishun appeared hesitant, wondering if he had gone too far.
Mon Mothma turned to both, looking back and forth between her aides. "Thank you, Yishun, and thank you, Justid." She nodded toward her other aides, then turned back to Yishun and Justid, saying, "I think I would like a word with Aven."
Both Yishun and Justid glanced back at Aven, who looked up in intrigue.
"Uh, Madame, we're about to go on," Yishun cautioned. "I don't think it's wise. . ."
"Thank you, Yishun," Mon Mothma said, smiling politely. "You are excused."
Yishun and Justid exchanged a look of concern as Aven rose from his seat. Yishun waited until the rest of the aids had left the room, and he spared a look of warning at Aven before leaving.
When Mon Mothma and Aven were alone, Mon Mothma said, "You're being awfully quiet, Aven. It's not like you."
"When what you have to say isn't welcome, you stop saying it," Aven said, then realizing he had spoken his resentment more baldly than intended, he added, "Sorry. I mean. . ."
"No, no," Mon Mothma smiled. "You can't walk that back."
Bryton sighed, feeling that after tonight he had better begin placing calls for other employment options. "Yishun and Justid aren't getting it. Everything that comes out of our opponent's mouth, the media, the Galactanet – all of it slams us for ineptitude as we cling to milquetoast platitudes about democracy. People are struggling - hurting. They don't want a mild-mannered, gracious Chancellor trying to rebuild the past. They want somebody to fight for them. Brasaar is gaining ground because he doesn't hesitate to show he's fighting, and it doesn't matter how performative it is. He's given the people what they want."
"Well, Aven, I asked what you thought, and you certainly told me," she smiled. Aven was uncertain how to interpret her smile, and he receded, fearing that he had crossed the line. "What would you have me do?" she added.
"Fight. Brasaar is dirtier than a Daiyu cantina, but how often have we hit him on it? Instead, we take the high road, and we look timid and out of touch."
A knock on the door preceded Yishun poking his head into the room. "It's time," he called.
She looked back to Aven, who regarded her with a note of pleading and fear. He added, "The Mon Mothma of six years ago would have torn this man to shreds. That's the Mon Mothma we need right now."
Mon Mothma looked down, frowning at the conflicting advice. She had won back most of the Republic planets with a posture of graciousness and forgiveness. The polling kept suggesting that people were tired of vitriol, yet vitriol was winning.
"Thank you, Aven, for speaking your mind. I must go," Mon Mothma said.
She turned away and followed Yishun out of the room. When she had gone, Yishun poked his head back into the room, and his scowl promised swift retribution when the night was over.
"Good evening, beings from across the Galaxy, and thank you for joining us tonight as we present the third and final debate in this election to decide the Chancellorship," spoke a human male with a refined voice and a stoic bearing that produced instinctive trust. "This is Roth Renwoth of the Central Galactic News Network. In four Standard weeks, the people of the galaxy will speak, deciding for the second time since the fall of the Empire who will lead the Galactic Republic. In tonight's debate, we shall address issues related to the economy, galactic security, and crime."
Renwoth looked toward the two opponents standing behind podiums on opposite sides of a stage. The Coruscant cityscape projected across the background, and the sleek, polished black floor reflected the bright studio lights above. The audience cheered in anticipation of the debate's commencement, and as the cheer died down, Renwoth asked, "Are the candidates ready?"
"I am," replied Mon Mothma in her soft, regal, refined voice.
"Yes, Roth," replied the melodious voice of Senator Baz Brasaar, a middle-aged male with sleek hair graying at the temples. He gestured graciously to the audience, his impeccable suit reinforcing the impression of refined nobility.
"Very good," Roth Renwoth said. "Our first question is for the Chancellor. The death of Jabba the Hutt created a power vacuum among the various competing crime syndicates on the Outer Rim, leading to a prolonged, protracted conflict that has spilled over into the Mid-Rim. If you are re-elected, what will you do to restore order and quell criminal activity in the Mid- and Outer Rims?"
"Thank you for your question, Roth," Mon Mothma said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Yishun nodding encouragingly and Justid clutching his datapad. "As you know, our intelligence operations have monitored the conflict closely, and with the efforts of Secretary Madine and Director Solo, our intelligence operations have been able to thwart and disrupt the worst of the conflict, while helping ensure security at hundreds of planets that would have been otherwise affected. I remain committed to guiding legislation through the Senate to expand those operations, and I am confident that the conflict itself will resolve very soon, just as they conflict with the Empire has resolved."
"Thank you, Chancellor," Roth stated. "Senator?"
Senator Brasaar, straightened up, smiling ironically. "Monitoring conflict? Disrupting the worst of it? Tell that to the citizens on Pasaana, thousands of whom are now dead after the Black Sun and Crymorrah decimated their planet. Tens of thousands of Pasaanans are now being trafficked by Black Sun, and where was the Republic to stop this? Do we really think that throwing more money at Madine and Solo will help, given how ineffective they've proved themselves? No. Crime is rampant, and the Chancellor wants to apply a bacta solution to a severed limb. She does not have the conviction to apply real force to stem the conflict and assert order. And why would she? The Inner Core remains comfortable and insulated. Why bother with the poor souls on the Outer Rim?"
"Chancellor, your rebuttal," Roth directed.
Mon Mothma's stifled the frustration surging in her at the mischaracterization at the Republic's efforts, and she felt Yishun shifting uncomfortably on the side of the stage. Summoning her diplomatic calm, she said, "I appreciate the Senator's concern over the well-being of citizens on the Mid-Rim and the Outer Rim. However, I must point out that he is mischaracterizing our efforts to stem the conflict. What happened on Pasaana came with no warning, and even Director Solo is not omniscient. Additionally, this ignores how we have helped numerous planets, including thwarting the Black Sun's trafficking efforts at Boz Pity and Boonta. Furthermore. . ."
"Furthermore?" Brasaar interrupted, scowling indignantly. "What is the point of having an Intelligence agency if it doesn't warn you of an impending assault? I, for one, feel much less secure knowing that massive attacks like this will slip through Republic Intelligence's porous nets. If I am elected, I plan to overhaul the agencies from top to bottom, bringing in competent, capable men who can detect threats while there is time to stop them."
Mon Mothma opened her mouth to speak, but she felt Yishun shaking his head fervently. Before Mon Mothma could rebut the point, Roth Renwoth had moved on.
"Thank you, Senator," Roth said. "For our next topic, I would like to begin with Senator Brasaar. Six months ago, the Republic Navy announced that the galaxy's Imperial presence is now no more than 4% of its might at the height of its power. This has precipitated a drawdown in the Republic military, of which you have been very critical. What is your view on galactic security needs and the role of the Republic Navy?"
"Thank you for the question, Roth," Brasaar said smoothly. "First, we need to look only to the ongoing wars among the crime syndicates to point out how necessary the military still is. Rather than drawdown our fleet to a peacekeeping force, we should use those forces to eradicate crime and disorder. Despite Admiral Ackbar's rosy prognostications on fractured Imperial factions, how are we supposed to feel confident that the Republic is safe if we can't even defend the Mid-Rim? If anything, we need a stronger, mightier force that will deter even the boldest foes. We need a Republic that is strong and will not back down from a fight. Not this weak peacekeeping force the Chancellor promotes."
"Thank you," Renwoth said, then directed, "Chancellor?"
"With all due respect, I believe the Senator is overestimating the effectiveness of a wartime navy's ability to disrupt piracy and trafficking. Even at the height of the Empire, the Imperial Navy struggled to stem illicit Outer Rim activity, and the covert tactics of the Rebellion showed the limits of a "stronger, mightier force." Furthermore, the economic investment in a larger military hinders our ability to use more effective means, and I should note that the Senator himself has. . ."
"With all due respect," Brasaar interjected disrespectfully, "Comparing the current situation to the Rebellion smacks of desperation. Chancellor, you had your moment in the Rebellion, and the galaxy will be forever grateful to your leadership in breaking us free from Imperial tyranny. However, building a Republic is not the same as tearing down an Empire. If you think that bringing up the Rebellion will help you evade questions about your competence will fool the citizens of the galaxy, then your cynicism is showing for all to see."
"Cynicism?" Mon Mothma said, reeling. "Is it cynicism to point out that a Mon Calamari cruiser is effective against Star Destroyers, but not against freighters with false ID tags blending into shipping traffic? Can you articulate what effect a "mightier" force will have in stopping piracy. . ."
"No more than it is cynicism to think that the people of the galaxy are so stupid as to believe that you know how to defend the galaxy. Brighter minds than yours helped bring down the Empire. Perhaps we should have elected Ackbar as the Chancellor," Brasaar countered acidly.
"I must interject," Renwoth said. "Senator, please allow the Chancellor to complete her statements. You will have your opportunity to counter when she has finished speaking."
Mon Mothma looked to the side of the stage, aware that the cameras were recording the gesture. Yishun waved her frantically back to the cameras, and Justid fretted. Behind them, Aven Bryton glared at her, a challenge burning in his eyes. Mon Mothma looked back to see Renwoth looking at her expectantly.
Mon Mothma opened her mouth to speak, but Brasaar chuckled derisively at her loss of focus.
"If you get rattled by a political attack, how can we expect you not to get rattled by a galactic security problem?" Brasaar chided.
"Senator," Renwoth warned. "We will cut your mic off if you continue to interrupt."
Senator Brasaar smiled and raised his arms, saying, "Somebody needs to speak the truth up here."
"Thank you," Renwoth replied, his irritation evident. "Chancellor, the Reparations Act was a controversial piece of legislation when it was passed, and its controversy has deepened since its passage. Many feel that it does too much, asking too much of former Imperial worlds. Others believe it does too little. Almost nobody thinks it is doing everything it needs to do. If you are re-elected, what will you do to help facilitate Galactic Reconstruction?"
"Roth, the Reparations Act was only a beginning. While imperfect, it has improved the lives of trillions of citizens. Countless systems across the Core, the Mid-Rim, and the Outer Rim have begun the long road to recovery after decades of Imperial tyranny, resource depletion, and environmental devastation. We've committed as much as compromise would allow, and we know there is much more to do. I am committed to providing as much aid as possible through continued amendments to the Act, increases in funding, scientific development, and training programs to restore self-sufficiency and reduce the burden on planets who provide the reparations. Even with a closely divided Senate, there are few issues more critical and universally agreed upon than the need to rebuild the galaxy. I am confident that I can build a coalition to reinforce the strengths of the Reparations Act while correcting its deficiencies."
Senator Brasaar jumped in to answer the question before Renwoth could prompt him. "Spoken like a true politician. Empty promises and obfuscation of political realities. The Reparations Act has failed more often than not, and the planets funding it all face economic depressions, inflation, and poverty. And that really gets at the heart of it, doesn't it? The Tribunals went far enough in imprisoning and executing those behind the Empire. The continued existence of the Reparations Act is nothing more than punishment and revenge. And who is it hurting? Not the former Imperials, to be sure. They're either dead or rehabilitated now. No, it hurts the people of Eriadu, Coruscant, Kuat, Corellia, Hosnian Prime! It's a travesty! If I am elected, I will repeal the Reparations Act and replace it with something that works!"
A cheer erupted in response to Brasaar's answer, and Mon Mothma scanned the crowd, noting the enthusiasm for Brasaar's sharp critiques. As the cheer sustained, Mon Mothma glanced again to the side, watching Yishun and Justid fretting. Bryton stood behind them, his arms crossed. As the cheer persisted, she felt five years of anxiety, hard work, hard-won progress, compromise, cajoling, pleading, borrowing, bartering, and even begging slipping away.
"Ironic," she called out, her voice forceful. "For somebody who has gone on the record as being in favor of restoring the galaxy, every vote you ever took on this matter has gone against funding programs that actually would have helped. How many times did I invite you and your coalition into the Chancellor's office to watch you sit there with your arms folded, refusing to compromise if it meant that one more cent would go to planets other than your own? And you talk about how the people on the Core Worlds suffer because of the Reparations Act? You conveniently forget that the corporations and governments of planets like Eriadu responded to the Reparations Act by passing down taxes and expenses to their people. The provisions in that act are aimed at the entities responsible. That the people on your planet suffer has more to do with your regional governments failing in their responsibilities than anything in the act itself."
"Oh that's very. . ." Brasaar began.
"I'm not finished!" Mon Mothma called out, her voice fiery. "Maybe it's time to talk about your own economic interests here. You and your friends – people like Elvyn Bolsko, Senator Kardoom, Senator Hinx – you made your fortunes building Imperial infrastructure, and you receive massive political contributions from corporations who see their profits slipping away as the galaxy turns its back on perpetual war. You criticize the military drawdown because you claim to care about security, yet the bulk of your funding comes from arms corporations who hope that you will write them a blank check to fund their bigger, flashier space yachts on Cantonica. Maybe it's time you were honest about your own motivations here; you'd rather make your friends rich than see recovering planets get another credit."
"Madame Chancellor, if you would please allow the Senator to respond," Renwoth said.
"No, Roth, I will not. Not until I've said my piece. For this entire campaign I have attempted to debate on even ground while Elvyn Bolsko's media empire has tried to tear me down and Senator Brasaar has attempted to denigrate me at every step. He says it's easier to tear down an Empire than build a Republic? Well, it's also easier to tear down a Chancellor than it is to actually lead. Senator Brasaar sat in a comfortable office building during the Rebellion, making billions on the construction of TIE fighters, and now he comes in here lecturing the galaxy on how it should go about its reconstruction. Now who's being cynical? Now who thinks voters are stupid?"
"Oh, very clever, Chancellor," Brasaar spat acidly. "You know full well I was cleared of responsibility by the Tribunal, and you want to bring up allegations that have been debunked many times over."
"Have you ever been to Kashyyyk, Senator?" Mon Mothma asked, her voice tight with anger.
"I, of course – yes, I have," Brasaar stumbled.
"Since the Empire fell?" Mon Mothma added.
"I. . ." Brasaar began, but faltered.
"I'll take that as a no," Mon Mothma said. "And how about Aldani? Ferrix? Uphrades? Mandalore?!"
"This is beside the point," Brasaar said, reeling.
"Is it, now?" Mon Mothma retorted. "Is it besides the point that you have presented absolutely zero policy proposal on how to help those planets and hundreds of others overcome decades of devastation, when all of the evidence suggest that many planets will require hundreds, if not thousands of years to recover?"
"Are you suggesting that we will have to sustain reparations for the next thousand years?" Brasaar rebutted, regaining his confidence.
"You know full well that I am suggesting no such thing. What I am suggesting is that you have no idea what the galaxy needs, and that you are hopelessly out-of-touch with the needs of the people you purport to fight for. Can you tell me how many Wookies will die if you cut off their reparations funds? Can you tell me what good another hundred Starhawks in the Navy will do for poverty and starvation on Ferrix?"
Senator Brasaar smiled stupidly, fumbling for a response. Finally, he recovered, saying, "This is all very clever, Chancellor, but the fact remains that your leadership has been. . ."
"You've spent the past five years as a Senator doing everything you possibly could to hamstring my leadership. You fought every funding bill. You blocked countless proposals on funding, legislation, investment, technology – anything that might help my government succeed. You think you can come up here and say the government doesn't work when you've done everything in your power to ensure it doesn't work." Mon Mothma declared, her voice resonant and ringing. "Now who thinks that voters are stupid?"
The audience sat in silence as she turned toward them. "I know my government has made mistakes. I know our efforts have had their limitations. I take my responsibility, and it's time the opposition owned their responsibility, as well. The galaxy faces challenges that will take decades to overcome, and I know that people continue to suffer despite our best efforts. I sacrificed everything to bring down the Empire, and I will continue to give everything I can to help rebuild this Republic, restore peace, and protect our citizens. Yes, we need to do better, as does my opponent. As does the private sector. As does the military. As does the Senate. Yet, herein lies the true nature of democracy. We strive toward our ideals. We don't abandon them when it becomes inconvenient to our business interests. This is what my opponent wants: he wants a return to the Empire without the overt tyranny. He wants profits and handouts to corporations - the welfare of the people be damned."
Mon Mothma scanned the crowd, her face shining from righteous indignation. In a quiet, controlled voice, she said, "I rest."
Roth Renwoth turned to a stunned Senator Brasaar, who stood, fumbling for a rebuttal.
"Ah," Renwoth said, uncomfortable. "Well, then. For our next question. . ."
Senator Brasaar threw his jacket on the floor of his dressing room and kicked a chair, sending it skittering across the floor. His aides huddled in the corner of the room, hoping to evade the tirade. He looked toward them, bellowing, "How did you let this happen?!"
The aids shrank back, cowed. A buzzer announced an incoming call, and all looked toward the viewscreen. Brasaar stepped toward it, reading the Aurebesh letters reading, "Priority for Brasaar. Top Secret."
Brasaar turned toward his aides and grunted, "Get out of my sight." The aides scrambled from the room gratefully, eager to leave Brasaar's tirade behind them. Brasaar shut off the lights and collapsed into a seat before activating the holoprojector.
The figures of several human men, all seated and their faces obscured in shadows, emerged. The man occupying the center chair spoke immediately, saying, "Pathetic."
"Excuse me?" Brasaar barked angrily. "All of the research you provided said that Mon Mothma would continue taking the high road. You didn't prepare me. . ."
"You wilted like a Naboo rose on Tatooine," another man exclaimed, contempt in his voice.
"We've funneled millions of credits into this campaign, and you're making fools of us," spoke another man with a rich accent and ornate robes, leaning into the light to show his full disapproval.
"Bolsko, you know damn well you're spending a fraction of what you have. How much money and beskar are you funneling into that ridiculous genetics program. . ."
"Careful, Baz," hissed the man in the center. "A careless comment like that could cost you more than just your candidacy."
Brasaar blanched, recognizing the threat. Despite the stature of the man in the center, it was not he whom Baz feared most. Brasaar turned toward the man on the far right who had not spoken yet. His legs were crossed, and he remained in the shadows.
"Your disastrous performance may have cost us another six years. If so, you can count on spending the rest of your life lobbying for the Kowakian Monkey Lizard trade," Elvyn Bolsko said. "My son won't continue supporting your agenda, and you'll be out of the Senate."
"Don't forget," the man in the center said. "Our patience is limited." The man turned toward the man on the far right, who remained in the shadows. "Isn't that right, Mr. Gideon?"
The man on the far right leaned forward, and Brasaar shrank reflexively. The hardened, cold face of Moff Gideon stared at him, a sinister smile bending the corner of his mouth.