Y1ofthePlebs
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Act 2: The Passage of Time
🕑 Added 2025-05-12 10:19:06 +0000 UTC7 Years Later
22 BBY
The six Lucrehulks were ripped from hyperspace without any hint of a warning. On the bridge of the TDF Conference Call, Captain Bwell was so shocked at the speed of it that he dropped his caf stim. He gaped in astonishment out the viewscreen of his ship at the sudden appearance of real space.
“What was that?!” He demanded, then grimaced, looking down where his hot beverage had stained the hem of his robes. Dismissing the spill from his mind, he turned to his helmsman, who looked as bewildered as he did. This early in the morning the two of them were the only ones on the bridge. The only reason Bwell himself had been up here was a fleeting desire to watch hyperspace with a hot drink in hand.
“Sir, we’ve hit a gravity well!” The Neimoidian technician shouted from his station.
Bwell blinked in bewilderment, unable to believe it. “We’re still on the Hydian! The whole point of a hyperlane is there are no gravity wells! Did we drift off course?”
The helmsman scrambled, opening the navicomputer and double checking his information. “No, sir. We’re still on the Hydian. The nearest star is light years away.”
“Then what gravity well did we hit?” Bwell demanded. He hurried over to the man’s station, leaving his now empty cup behind and leaning over the technicians shoulder. Who could only shrug in confusion.
“It’s not just us, sir. The entire fleet got pulled out as well.” The technician continued to check his sensors, until finally he said. “Here, sir. We’ve got… something.”
“Something? What something?”
“I don’t know.” He pushed a few more buttons, and brought the image up as a hologram. “It appears to be a ship, sir.”
Captain Bwell regarded the projected ship with confusion. It was a make and model he didn’t recognise at all, with an unusual shape. It had wings and thrusters, attached to a large blocky body, but what really made it strange was the four massive spheres constructed into its surface. It was painted black, and appeared to be unarmed.
“Did it get grabbed as well?”
“Uh… sir, it appears to be the source of the gravity well.” The technician answered.
“What?” Bwell gaped. His mind raced, trying to understand what was happening. Eventually, he gave up. “Call up the rest of the bridge crew. I know it’s the night cycle, but call them up! I’ll contact the Commodore.”
“Yes sir.” The man replied, fingers flying across his terminal as he got to work.
Before he called his superior, Captain Bwell hurried to his personal quarters to replace his uniform. A report of an unkempt appearance on his record was the kind of thing that might get him passed over for promotion. He just stepped into his room and slipped off his robes, when he heard a loud metallic clang reverberating through the ship’s hull. It was so loud it left his ears ringing, and he already felt a headache coming on. The Captain’s Quarters were just a few corridors from the bridge, so he quickly swapped to his new uniform and sprinted back.
“What was that noise?” He demanded, and was glad to see a few more Nemoidians at their stations than just the technician.
“We’re being boarded!” The technician pointed directly up. “A ship has attached itself directly to the hull above us!”
With a jolt that made his heart thud in his chest, Captain Bwell realised what was happening. This was an ambush. He’d never seen combat in his life, and now he was faced with an ambush. That ship out there was somehow able to create its own Gravity Well, and it had been used to drag them out of Hyperspace. Now they were being boarded.
Gaping, lips flapping, Captain Bwell rushed over to the holocom. “Commodore! Commodore, can you hear me?!” He demanded.
The image projected on screen wasn’t the escort group’s commander, but an imposing figure covered head to toe in thick armour painted steel grey and blue. They were humanoid, and around their neck they had a black iron chain. In their hands they carried a short barreled blaster, with an underslung laserlight.
A cold, professional voice that wasn’t quite perfect in basic said, “I am Commander Allarate. You’re ordered to power down, or you will be boarded.”
His throat suddenly feeling dry, Captain Bwell tried to think of something to say.
“Sir!” The technician shouted. “Sir, they’re preparing to cut open the bridge! We’ll be spaced!” He wasn’t looking at the sensors as he said that, he was pointing with his hand to the ship’s front observation deck, where a number of similar armoured figures were using magnetic boots to surround the window. They were preparing what looked like cutting tools, and arraying themselves in place to prepare for a breach.
“W-wait!” Bwell gasped out. “Wait! Why are you doing this? This is the Hydian Way, you have no right to do this!”
Something about Allarate’s voice suggested dark amusement. “The Trade Federation Patrol Fleet has been barred from the Serenno Sector. This section of the Hydian runs through that territory. You're violating our sovereign territory, so I’m impounding your vessels.”
“You can’t just declare a piece of the Hydian as your own!” Bwell spat, bristling at the audacity of it.
“We’ll let the courts decide that one.” Commander Allarate replied. “Right now, you need to decide if you’ll surrender or be spaced.”
“Sir!” The technician shouted. “Sir, we need orders! I can deploy the vulture droids to the ship’s exterior, but I need your permission!” It was a worthless effort. All it would take is a single cut, and all of them would be dead men.
“Just wait until the Commodore hears about this!” Bwell snarled.
Now Allarate actually chuckled. “Who’s comm do you think you called?” He moved a few steps over, until he was standing above a kneeling Nemoidian. Bwell experienced another shock as he recognised the Commodore, his command hat missing, and his robes torn open, as if someone ripped them apart to find any concealed weapons or comm devices. “Hey, Commodore. Got anything to say to Captain Bwell here before he does something stupid?”
“Bwell…” The Commodore muttered. “They’ve already got the fleet, man. You’re the last. Just surrender. You can say it was my order, and it won’t go into your performance review.”
“You hear that Bwell? Commodore is going to take the fall for you, won’t even affect your annual bonus.” The sneer in the man’s voice was palpable. “So what will it be, Bwell? You wanna go home with your pension intact? Or you wanna see what the vacuum feels like?”
The prideful part of Bwell’s mind blazed, furious that these humans would dare to try something like this to him, before the cold fear churning in his belly smothered the heat. He lowered his head, mind turning to his wife, and the time he would spend with her when he got back to Neimoidia. Whatever he thought of Serenno’s bizarre claim to owning a piece of a Great Hyperspace Lane, the company just wasn’t worth his life.
“Stand down.” He mumbled, before swallowing the lump from his throat and raising his voice to say again. “Stand down everyone!”
Allarate pressed a button on his comm device, and the team outside viewport ceased their preparations. “Wise decision, voidkin.”
-----
“Would the Senator for Naboo explain why the Chomel Sector continues to remain a member of an anti-democratic separatist movement?” Floating above the Senate chamber, the representative of Neimoidia bellowed so loudly that the entire chamber could hear, even over the dim murmuring of thousands of side conversations. “By giving a veneer of legitimacy to these traitors, the Senator for Naboo has allowed dangerous radicalism to fester in this very Senate!”
Vice Chancellor Mass Ameda stood up, and turned his horned head to look down to where Padme sat. “The Senator for Naboo has the floor. Thirty seconds to respond.”
Standing up, and ignoring the feeling of her stomach moving to her heels as her pod rushed upwards to float level with the Nemoidian. “The Senator for Nemoidia’s assertions are baseless. The Outer Rim Reform Alliance has always pursued a policy of decentralisation, perfectly in keeping with our Republic’s founding principles. Our policy proposals have always been reasonable, and moderate.”
“The Senator for the Trade Federation has a question for the Senator from Naboo.”
Mass Ameda pressed a button, and the pod for Nemoidia was replaced with an almost identical pod, though the questioner was a different individual. “Does the Senator for Naboo agree that Orra’s policy proposals have been demonstrated to promote privateering?”
“The Senator for Naboo has the floor. Thirty seconds to respond.”
“The Reform Alliance has done more to combat piracy and privateering in the last ten years than this Senate has in centuries.” Padme answered smoothly.
“The Senator for Axxila has a question.”
And on, and on it went. The senate session dragged on for hours, most questions aimed at Padme herself, or the Senator for Mandalore. It wasn’t just the Trade Federation and its cronies that were demanding to know why Serenno impounded their ships, but many Core Worlds as well. The Trade Federation escort ships were meant to ensure the hyperlanes remained open for goods to travel out of the Corporate Sector to the Core, and now those consumers were afraid of delays, supply shortages, and price hikes. Padme’s pod rose up and down so much that she started to feel dizzy as the hours wore on.
After just three years in the Senate, Padme Amidala almost wished that she’d stayed a Queen. It would have been easy to do it. The office had no term limit. Padme could have reigned as Queen of Naboo until the day she died, wealthy and beloved by her people. Instead, she’d imposed term limits, and even made consecutive terms as King or Queen illegal! There had even been protesters, protesters! Crowds marched in the street of Naboo, demanding she abandon her reforms. Instead, Padme had remained steadfast with her principles, and now Naboo was a Republic in all but name. Against the objections of absolutely everyone, Queen Amidala had retired, and then ran a campaign to represent Naboo in the Senate.
Count Dooku, Duke Harad, and even Duchess Satine had advised her to continue as head of state. The first two, she’d expected; neither Harad, nor Dooku had an ounce of respect for the moral authority of Democracy, but Duchess Satine’s objections had surprised her.
“Does the Senator for Naboo acknowledge the risk of Separatist ideology spreading through Reform Alliance?”
…Maybe Dooku was right about Democracy.
Pushing such thoughts from her mind, Padme swallowed a few headache pills and stood up once more to represent her people.
It was just another hour before finally the Senate session was closed. The constant motion of the pod left Padme barely able to keep her poise; she disguised her unsteady legs as a graceful glide as best she could, aided by an arm to hold from her jedi bodyguard, Knight Prialla.
On the way to her hover car, Padme was surprised to see Duchess Satine in person, walking towards her. Dressed in her finest regalia and accompanied by the Mandalorian Senator, at the sight of Padme, Satine hurried ahead of her bodyguards with a scowl.
Padme had to stifle a groan as she realised that Satine was here for her. She liked the woman, genuinely, but right now she just wanted to go lay down somewhere until her stomach settled. The last thing she wanted was to get into an open ended discussion about policy, but she still forced herself to straighten up and be friendly with the head of state. It wouldn't be wise to risk offending her closest ally in the senate right now.
Padme and Satine had spent long hours discussing their beliefs and ideas, and working together to create an interest group in the Senate had been a pleasure, but Padme had no idea how the Duchess could possibly live as such a rank hypocrite. How could the woman claim to be a deep believer in democracy, yet refuse to hold any elections?
Even Dooku, who openly despised democracy, actually held elections on Serenno. True, the Advisory technically had no authority other than to advise the Count, but at the very least it acted as a channel for the Will of the People to find the ear of their ruler. Duke Harad held elections on Raxus for the Parliament of Commons, and though he was a monarch, he was extremely involved in the Parliamentary system that governed his homeworld. He would often boast to the other heads of state, ‘I’m never more powerful than when my parliament is in session.’ It was an interesting system, one that had tempted Padme sorely, but in the end she had stuck by her principles and implemented a Republican system.
“I see that Dooku didn’t forewarn you of his plans either.” Satine began. “I know the man doesn’t believe in democracy, but he’s only going to make our fight in the Senate even more difficult with this!”
How could something that was already impossible possibly become more difficult? Padme didn’t want to think like that, she tried to stay positive, but her time as a senator had not been encouraging. Technically, political parties were banned from the senate, but the body was clearly divided along by a series of blocs with clear interests. Even if they had no formal political structure, they clearly had hierarchies and met out of hours to collaborate on their goals. In effect, the political parties still existed, they were just obscured from public view.
Then there was the class of unelected officials on Coruscant, the heads of the bureaus and the intelligence services, who could easily influence and direct senators to policies that suited their interests. Padme was pretty sure her conversations were being monitored by both Republic Military Intelligence and the Senate Bureau of Intelligence. It was probably why Dooku hadn’t seen fit to inform her, or Duchess Satine.
“It will.” Padme agreed with Satine. “And it’s an issue that we should discuss with him together. If you’d like, we can ride together back to my residence, and speak privately there after a bug sweep.”
“That sounds like a fine idea.” Satine harrumphed, though not at Padme. “But we’ll take mine. I’m confident we’ll be able to talk privately on the way there.”
Padme nodded once, consenting.
One of the Duchess’s guards pressed a button on his wrist pad, and the vehicle pulled up in front of them, driven only by a droid chauffeur.
Padme took one step towards the vehicle when she felt a hand seize the back of her robes. The world tilted up as she was violently thrown to the ground, and Prialla’s diminutive form covered her.
“Stay down!” The Jedi Knight screamed, and yanked the Duchess to the ground with the Force.
There was a deafening crack of an explosion, and Padme threw her hands up to cover her eyes. Her ears rang as acrid black smoke hung thick in the air that made her eyes water. Looking around, she saw a fire burning from a hulk of metal on the Senate departure pad, and it took Padme a moment to realise it was Satine’s speeder. She blinked, trying to roll over, but was held in place by Prialla. Turning her head, Padme could see a misshapen heap of smouldering robes on the ground, and it took her a moment to realise that it was Satine. Her ceremonial outfit with its massive sleeves and long hem hid the extent of her injuries, though there was the stink of burning flesh in the air.
“Help her!” Padme gasped, bucking, trying to wriggle out from under her protector. “I’m fine, save Satine!”
Prialla gave her a once over, seeming to confirm she was okay in the Force before finally standing up. The explosion had been massive, and Satine’s Mandalorian guards had been standing in the brunt of it. Those closest to the blast were killed instantly, their broken bodies hurled away, but even those standing closest to Satine were either dead or dying.
The Kedi Knight ran over, and threw back the Duchess robes to reveal her face, pale with pain and shock where it wasn’t burned, her eyes bloodshot and unseeing, and blood pouring from her ears. Prialla reached down and ripped apart the Duchess's clothes, searching for injury, before finding a set of beskar rings beneath her clothes. Multiple pieces of shrapnel had embedded themselves in her armour, but none had pierced her.
Prialla placed her palm against Satine’s forehead then she turned to yell something to Padme, who couldn’t hear it. Padme blinked, dabbing at her ears to find blood running down her cheeks.
“I can’t hear anything!” Padme gasped. “I’m deaf!”
Prialla said something else, but whatever it was, Padme was nearly frightened out of her skin by a hand on her shoulder. She spun on the spot to find the Senatorial Guard pouring out of an armoured vehicle, blasters raised as they rapidly secured the area. One of them was ushering her away, towards an ambulance. She followed his guiding hand, arriving where a medical droid immediately started running diagnostics on her. It was less than a minute before the droid had her strapped down in the back of the vehicle. Padme raised her head to see the doors being closed, and right before they closed,through the crack she glimpsed Prialla being handcuffed.
-----
Anakin didn’t like visiting hospitals generally, but this one in particular left him uncomfortable. The countless different needs of the thousands of different species of the Republic left the public health services woefully inadequate and overworked. The medical needs of a Gran had nothing in common with those of a Wookiee, but some near humans could make do with the same medicines in a pinch. Medications that worked on a human usually had a similar effect on Zabraks and Twi'leks, for example, but Coruscant was the most diverse world in the Galaxy. Even the most bizarre and exotic species would make their homes here, and so they often needed specialised hospitals to treat them.
Sentient doctors just couldn’t possibly remember and master all the different needs of so many species, not when it took almost a decade of training to be confident in treating even one species. Medical droids with their vast data banks were manufactured cheaply, and so there was plenty of medical knowledge to go around, but access to the millions of different varieties of medicine needed to treat all illnesses was limited. Different species tended to create and patronise their own medical institutions, leaving public hospitals only for the desperate and poor.
Hospitals in the undercity were often filthy, crowded, and poorly maintained, with droids that operated on outdated knowledge, or were in dire need of a memory wipe and beginning to act strangely. Some of them were so bad that it could be argued staying away from them actually improved your chances of recovery. Anakin didn’t know if he believed that, but he did know that the Senatorial District Hospital wasn’t one of those.
Its halls gleamed. On every floor there were the squeaky beeps of cleaning droids, and even with the countless representatives of a thousand different species, the hospital was never short of the supplies it needed for treatment. On any floor, one could see a wookiee getting shaved in preparation for surgery, a gran bending over to give a smell sample from his glands, or even just a regular human boy getting his temperature checked.
The Senatorial District Hospital was in perfect order, because of course it was. On Tatooine, his mother and other humans would have had to make do with whatever medicines could be imported from traders, often getting ripped off or scammed. There was no way Senators would put up with that. Even if the undercity was burning, or the Outer Rim was choking on plague, there was no chance that such illustrious people would tolerate anything but the best treatment and services.
No wonder people didn’t believe in Democracy.
“Anakin, relax.” Obi-Wan murmured next to him, before the turbolift opened with a pleasant ding in front of them. He stepped inside, and Anakin followed him in. “I can hear your thoughts.”
“No you can’t.” Anakin replied, confident.
“I can see them on your face.” Obi-Wan replied.
Anakin grimaced at that, and tried to school his expression back to unaffected serenity. After a few moments of staring at his reflection in the elevator window, he gave up. “What about you, Master?”
Obi-Wan’s expression didn’t change at all, but there was a hint of warning in his voice. “What about me?”
“Are you okay, Master?”
“...Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“You and the Duchess have history, right?” Anakin asked, carefully. “They say you almost quit the Order for her.”
“Even in the Jedi Temple, nonsense spreads fast on loose lips.” Kenobi murmured, a hint of rapprochement in his voice. “You shouldn’t spend so much time listening to rumors.”
Anakin frowned at that, and ignored the slight sting of rejection he felt. He waited in silence as the elevator finally came to the top of the tower, and he stepped out, following after Obi-wan.
As they neared the door, Anakin spoke up again. “Master, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry, just to reassure.”
Obi-wan paused, looking back at his padawan. “I’m sorry, Anakin. I’m grateful for your concern.”
“Of course, Master.”
At last Obi-wan stepped through the door, and Anakin followed in behind him to see the woman that his Master was once rumoured to be in love with. She was blonde, though her hair had been shaved off for the sake of multiple surgeries. Both her eyes were cybernetic now, glassy surfaces with small apertures at their centre, which gleamed with a blue light. If you didn’t look at them too closely, or see them in the dark, you might think they were ordinary human eyes. Even as she was sitting there in a medical robe, Satine held herself with a poise that spoke of aristocracy. The hem of the medical robe was just low enough to expose the tip of a surgical scar, just at her collar bone.
“Jedi Knight, Kenobi.” Satine said to him, coolly. “Are you here to apologise?”
Anakin shot Obi-wan a look at that, and his Master looked as lost as he felt. “Apologise for what, My Lady?”
Satine sniffed. “I’m the Duchess of Mandalore, now, Obi-wan. I wasn’t even a Lady when I was on the run with you, I was Your Highness. Now I’m to be addressed as ‘Your Majesty’.”
Already Anakin was reeling back on his heels, trying to understand what Satine was so upset about. It couldn’t be the title, she was upset before Kenobi even opened his mouth. Did she expect them to bow to her? Like this?
“My royal etiquette will need some brushing up, I’m afraid.” Kenobi admitted. “But I don’t believe I’ve done anything I need to apologise for.”
“Other than arresting the woman who saved my life?” Satine replied.
“The Senatorial Guard arrested her.” Kenobi replied. “And the Jedi Temple was quick to investigate, and clear her of all charges.”
“After she was paraded through the streets in handcuffs!” Satine growled back. “As far as half of Coruscant is still concerned, Prialla was the bomber!”
“It was very unfortunate.” Kenobi agreed. “And not something that I, or the Jedi Temple are responsible for, Your Majesty.”
“Is that so?” Satine replied, archly. “Well, if that will be all, I’ll be leaving Coruscant shortly and returning to my homeworld. I’m cleared to leave now.”
“Yes, of course.” Kenobi answered. “We won’t try to keep you here, but the Council has assigned us to investigate this attack, and we’ve wanted to speak to you for days now.”
“Well I suppose that explains why you couldn’t wait until I was ready to receive you.” Satine replied. “So until I am ready to receive you, I won’t be answering any questions. Now if you’ll excuse me, Master Jedi, I believe my new bodyguard will be arriving soon.”
She would be arriving soon. Anakin could feel the mind of a trained Force User rising up the elevator towards them, and he could feel it probing him as well.
Kenobi regarded the Duchess with irritation poorly hidden behind his mask of serenity. “Your help will be invaluable in catching the one responsible for this attack. You might have crucial information for us, and delaying to provide it could give the attacker time to escape.”
“I highly doubt that the Viceroy of the Trade Federation is going to run away anytime soon.” Satine replied.
Annakin and Obi-wan exchanged a look. “You believe Grib Siv to be responsible?”
“Of course he is.” Satine replied. “Let’s not fool ourselves. The Trade Federation has funded the Black Sun syndicate, and already sent a Sith Assassin after the Outer Rim Reform Alliance before. These brazen attacks will continue until he is dealt with, though in the meantime I’m sure you’ll do an excellent job tracking down his new proxy, whoever that might be.” From the hallways behind the two jedi, there was the sound of a distant ding as the elevator opened. “Ah, now I can finally get out of these blasted hospital sheets and into something more comfortable. Will that be all, Master Jedi?”
Kenobi regarded her for a few moments, before finally nodding. “We’ll speak again later, when you’re ready to receive us.”
Another woman with a lightsaber on her hip pusher her way past the two of them, carrying a bag of clothes. The Jedi Knight gave the two of them a little shooing gesture, and Anakin and Kenobi left the room while she lowered the curtains and closed the door so the Duchess could get dressed in privacy.
The two Jedi rode the turbolift back down to the lobby in silence, only broken when Anakin asked, “So… her, huh?”
Kenobi only gave his padawan a glare, and Anakin had to fight back a smile.
Finally the elevator let them back out into the hospital lobby, and the two of them went to leave, only for Anakin to pause in shock at the sight of Padme Amidala, waiting just inside the lobby for her friend. The face that had been in his dreams for years leapt at Anakin, like a slap to his cheek, and he felt a strange tightness in his chest just seeing her again.
“Anakin?” Kenobi asked.
He blinked, looking away from her, where she was regarding him with a confused expression. He had been staring, he realised.
“Uh, what?”
Kenobi arched an eyebrow at him, before turning to regard the Senator. “Your Majesty, it’s good to see you again.”
“I’ve given up my royal title.” She smiled as she answered, as though she’d had to explain this several times before. “But it’s good to see you too, Knight Kenobi.” Anakin felt a surprising burn of jealousy, before she then turned to him. “And Anakin, you’ve grown up so much!”
Anakin felt a bizarre mix of emotions, happy that she remembered him, grateful that she smiled at him, but frustrated that she still remembered him as a child first. “Yes, Your Majesty. I have.”
“Senator Padme, would you be able to arrange a time for us to interview you?” Kenobi interrupted, and Anakin had to hold back his resentment. “We’re investigating the attack.”
“Of course, call at any time and we’ll make a space in our schedule.” Padme agreed, and took out her holocom. With just a few presses, Kenobi’s device chimed with her number.
Now Anakin wanted a holocom of his own just so he could have her number on it.
“Thank you, Senator. We’ll be seeing you.” Obi-wan said.
“Of course. And good luck with your investigation, Anakin.”
Anakin blinked. “Yes. Thank you, Padme. Good luck to you too.”
The two Jedi stepped out onto the street, and began to walk away together. They were only a few paces away, when Kenobi looked at his Padawan, laughter glimmering in his eyes, “So. Her?”
Comments
Piero Gómez
aquí un habla hispana, me encanta tú historia gracias por escribirla
Tech Priest
Even as one of those silly new mandalorians, Satine is still a mandalorian. She has bad ass in her blood.
Omgitsbakon
She lost her eyes? Kinda extreme, and the reactions to it are pretty lackluster ngl.
