| abstract
| - A shining jewel in the blackness of space, Coruscant, the capital of the Galactic Republic, grew larger as the sleek chromium Nubian Royal yacht approached the planet flanked by two yellow starfighters. From the main cabin Senator Rhadé Sarasvati Nalanda observed the fighters, frowning slightly but making no comment. It was a necessary measure dictated by the way things were changing, as well as a reminder of what ruled the galaxy these days: not justice, not peace, but fear. Formerly a Queen, and now a Senator, Nalanda once again found herself at the edge of an on-coming war. Yet the edge was not as clearly defined like that of the invading armies of the Trade Federation she had encountered ten years before. Now the threat came from the very worlds that had once called themselves among the Republic. Named the Confederacy of Independent systems, they were led by the former Jedi, Count Dooku of Serenno. While the reality of war seemed incredulous, Nalanda knew that it was not only possible but probable given the impending vote on the Military Creation Act. If passed it would see the formation of an army of the Republic, something that Nalanda and several other prominent senators in the Loyalist Committee had been avidly campaigning against. Despite a few setbacks, they had managed to secure a meeting with the Separatists to begin at the end of the week. It was to be held on Imbroglio, a planet known for its wild weather that was neither part of the Confederacy or the Republic. This war needs to begin and end with diplomacy, Nalanda surmised as she watched the air traffic pass her ship, and quickly. Still, the possibility of war remained in the back of her mind and refused to go away. “Senator,” Nalanda turned to see the ship’s first officer nodding formally to her. “We’re making our final approach, Representative Pela is meeting you.” “Thank you, captain,” Nalanda said with a returning nod, unconsciously touching the silver and white diadem she wore. After she arrived there would be time for a quick change before the Senate met for the afternoon. “M’lady?” One of her handmaidens approached her. She wore a hooded grey cloak, hiding behind the folds of fabric as if she had something to conceal. “I’ll be quite safe, thank you,” the senator said tightly, lately there had been so much concern over her security that it had made her nervous. “I must insist, Senator,” the young woman persisted, but Nalanda silenced her with a raised hand. There were other things on her mind, more important and more pressing than her personal safety. Yet the girl standing next to her didn’t think so. Danta Pela, former goff bird flyer pilot on Naboo, now Nalanda’s Senior Representative, stood on the landing platform with Riané, one of Senator Nalanda’s handmaidens who had stayed on Coruscant during her absence. He was somewhat changed from his days before the Naboo blockade. He wore the flowing robes of a diplomat and the only sign of his former life was an elaborate dagger slung in a scabbard to one side, yet it had purposes beyond the aesthetic. Nalanda’s chromium-plated cruiser set down, the hatch opened and the ramp rolled out. Following Captain Typho down the ramp was Nalanda herself, in a brilliant creation of white and silver. Flanking her were two handmaidens, their heads lowered as if shying away from the senator’s splendour. Danta stepped forward to receive her, readying the necessary words of welcome, but he was immediately thrown back by the force of an explosion. His reflexes responded as he hit the ground, grabbing Riané and rolling her away from the blast and shielding her from the heat with his cloak. He looked up, terrified to what he might find. He saw Senator Nalanda lying beside one of her handmaidens, a little dishevelled from the tumble but otherwise alive. “Senator Nalanda,” the Gungan said, sprinting forward to help her. “I am unhurt,” Nalanda said, getting to her feet and shaking out her creased gown. “Thank you,” she said to the handmaiden. “My help will be for nothing if we don’t get you to safety,” said a distinctly familiar voice. With a start Danta recognised her, this wasn't a handmaiden but one of the Jedi he had been with ten years ago during the blockade. What was her name? Padmé…Padmé Naberrie. Nalanda started. “No!” Evading Padmé’s grasps, Nalanda ran over to where her other handmaiden—or her real handmaiden—was lying. “I’m sorry, m’lady,” the young woman gasped, blood pouring out a corner of her mouth. “No, no!” Nalanda screamed as Typho and Padmé rushed forward. “Senator, you are still in danger here,” Padmé urged, “there could be snipers about.” That did not deter her. “I should not have come back,” Nalanda murmured. “This vote is very important,” Typho said frantically, then added urgently. “Senator Nalanda, please!” Without a word Nalanda consented to their pleas, straightening her diadem and walking inside with a set face. Following Danta and Riané was the little astromech droid, R2-D2. In the vast Senate chamber, the deliberations had been somewhat subdued, but this was probably due to the fact that many of the pods were empty due to the systems they had represented had seceded from the Republic. Including, Bail Organa thought with a grimace, the Mamphra system. Though they, unlike most of the others, had not joined the fast growing Confederacy of Independent Systems which was the official named of what were known as the Separatists. Bail had missed Chiron Dunai of late with the on-going crisis that had led to an extension of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine’s term. The Republic stood on the brink of war, and with the number of senators focused on the common good dwindling, their chances of it not happening were very slim indeed. But sometimes, he lamented as Ask Aak of Malastare finished his speech to the thunder of applause, there is nothing you can do, and even the closest ideals must be sacrificed. “Senators, I have disturbing news to report.” The clear precise tones of Chancellor Palpatine echoed throughout the chamber. “Senator Rhadé Nalanda of Naboo has been assassinated!” No! Bail wanted to shout, but he didn’t need to as many others did it for him. He had warned her, and he knew that Nalanda had Jedi protection. But what that even— “Her death is a deplorable loss,” Palpatine continued, his dulcet tones cutting into Organa’s thoughts, “her courage, determination and forthrightness not only as the representative of Naboo but also as Queen of her people will ensure her name will be remembered.” At this auspicious moment, Ask Aak moved his pod back into the arena. “We cannot depend on the Jedi for protection!” he protested, his words translated to Basic so Bail could understand him. “We need the settle the question for this army now! For the Separatists will not compromise!” Cheers and shouts of agreement filled the chamber and Bail moved to rebut Ask Aak’s remarks, when he saw something that made him smile. There was no need for him to say anything, the Naboo pod was slowly moving forward with something—or rather someone—that would silence everyone. “Might I remind the senator from Malastare that it is premature to state the views of the Separatists,” Senator Rhadé Nalanda said cuttingly. There was a silence, followed by a smattering of applause and Bail noticed Nalanda smile. “It is with great pleasure that the chair recognises the senator from Naboo,” Palpatine said, with the air of a father praising his favourite child. Nalanda’s garb of violet and indigo coupled with her close, tight coiffure seemed to add to the seriousness of her words. “When I arrived there was an attempt on my life,” Nalanda continued, her pod circling the arena, “yet I am not letting it rule my fears so to make rash decisions that will in the end devastate us all. The issue of an army of the Republic cannot be decided quickly or lightly. But you must wake up, Senators!” her hands were held firm at her sides, her voice rising in emotion. “If we offer the Separatists violence, they can only offer us violence back. I have personally witnessed the heartbreak and destruction of war and do not wish it on anyone. If we can end this bloodlessly, we must!” There was applause and calls of support, but a fair amount of dissention as well. Nalanda had her supporters in the Senate, but many still dismissed her as young and naïve. “Order!” bellowed Mas Amedda. “We shall have order!” “Any motion to pass the vote forward must be deferred,” Nalanda finished, her eyes resting on Ask Aak. “Only when we know where we stand with the Separatists can then the notion of an army be considered.” At this, Bail moved his pod forward. “Alderaan seconds the motion to be deferred until the conclusion of the negotiations with the Separatists,” he said, meeting Nalanda’s eye as his pod passed hers. “Senator Ask Aak,” Palpatine said after a silence, “will you defer your motion for an immediate vote on the Military Creation Act?” At first, the Malastarian looked as if to disagree, but instead he answered in the affirmative. “The motion is withdrawn,” he said in a monotone, then retreated back to his place. Bail and Nalanda exchanged significant glances; they had won the first round. Shortly thereafter, the Senate was adjourned for the evening. “I fear this vote, my friends,” Palpatine said with grave trepidation. The Chancellor surveyed his guests from where he sat behind his desk. Mace Windu, the dark-skinned Jedi Master who appeared genuinely concerned. Renust Nju who sat next to Mace, his face resignedly set. Beside him was Ki-Adi-Mundi and following that Kuan Yin Nevu, she wore an expression of such profound tranquillity so Palpatine had no idea what she thought. Last of all came Yoda, his green brow furrowed as he studied the wall behind Palpatine’s chair. “A thousand more systems are poised to break away,” the Chancellor continued with a heavy shake of his head. “This cannot happen.” “Yet if they do secede—” Mace began but was cut off by Palpatine. “I will not let this Republic which has stood for a thousand generations be split in two!” Palpatine declared, slamming his fist on his desk and jostling the document reader and holoprojector. “But if they do break away there will not be enough Jedi to protect the Republic,” Mace said carefully, gesturing with his hands so as to reassure the Chancellor. “We are keepers of peace,” he reminded the Chancellor, “not soldiers.” “That all depends on how you define ‘keepers of peace’,” Renust Nju interjected dryly. Mace glanced at him for a moment, all that was necessary to remind that such comments were best suited to the Jedi Council chamber. Fortunately, or perhaps deliberately, Palpatine ignored this remark. “Master Yoda,” Palpatine’s voice was cool and methodical, “what do you see?” Yoda, who had been studying the wall behind Palpatine until then, had heard everything that had been said, closed his eyes in concentration. “Clouded, the future is,” the Jedi Master said after a silence, “impossible to see clear. But…” he paused and then opened his eyes, “do their duty the Jedi will.” At this moment, a hologram of Dar Wac, Palpatine’s aide, appeared on the desk. “The Loyalist Committee is here,” he said in Huttese. “Good, send them in,” Palpatine replied and the hologram dispersed, he turned to the Jedi, “we will deal with this later.” They all stood as the doors opened, in the lead was Nalanda followed closely by Typho. Next were Bail Organa and Senator Orn Free Taa of Ryloth. Several other senators and their retinues made up the group but coming last of all was Padmé Naberrie in her Jedi robes. After nodding to the Jedi Masters she stood behind Nalanda at the back of the room as if the affair had nothing to do with her. “Senator Nalanda,” Yoda walked to her slowly, leaning heavily on his gimer stick, “terrible tragedy on the landing platform. Relieved I am to see you alive.” “Thank you Master Yoda,” Nalanda said gratefully, yet her next words were addressed to the room in general. “Do you have any idea who is behind this attack?” “Our intelligence points to some disgruntled spice miners on the moons of Naboo,” Mace Windu replied. Nalanda glanced at Typho, her head of security shook his head slightly. This was clearly more serious than spice miners. “I think Count Dooku is behind it,” she said quietly. The remark reverberated through the room like a struck chord, affecting everyone. Mace Windu regarded her dryly. “Dooku was once a Jedi, m’lady,” he reminded her patiently. “Assassination is just not his type.” “He is a political idealist,” Ki-Adi-Mundi remarked, “not a murderer.” “Perhaps this threat is more personal, senator,” Renust Nju suggested, “your Loyalist Committee has ruffled a few feathers lately.” “Master Windu, perhaps with the increased threat some extra protection could be obtained?” Palpatine had been mildly observing the conversation until this point, but his suggestions were not well met by all. Bail Organa stared at the Chancellor. “Don’t you think that with the few Jedi there are you’re over-emphasising a situation that isn’t—” “—that serious?” finished Palpatine. “But I do think it is, Senator.” “Chancellor, with all do respect,” Nalanda said very patiently, “Master Naberrie is accompanying me at my request and she has already saved my life. Are you doubting what has already been proven?” “Well, perhaps an old friend should settle things,” the Chancellor said as if he had not heard Nalanda’s last remark. “Such as…” he caught Mace’s eye, “Master Kenobi.” “That's possible,” Mace agreed, “they have just returned from a border dispute on Ansion.” “Chancellor—” Nalanda protested but her words died in her throat. “Please don’t make me turn this into an order, senator,” he said, once again adopting the fatherly tone of voice, this time with gentle chastisement. “The thought of losing you would be…unbearable.” “Until caught this assassin is, young senator, in grave danger you are,” Yoda urged her. “Pride you must forgo, accept our help.” “Very well then, thank you for your concern,” Nalanda assented resignedly. “It’s settled then,” Palpatine said with obvious satisfaction. “I’ll have him report to you immediately, m’lady,” Mace said.
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