Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Coruscant, Coruscant System

Corusca Sector

“Isn’t it remarkable, that one can have all the power in the galaxy... and yet, the words of a single senator can sway the thoughts of trillions?”

The Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic was standing by the vast transparisteel window behind his desk, soberly gazing at the endlessly complicated ribbons of traffic seething across Coruscant's cityscape. Hearing the muffled shuffle of footsteps on the velvet carpet, he turned, gravely smiling.

“Not just any senator, Chancellor. Padmé Amidala,” Director Armand Isard spat out the name like a curse, “Something has to be done about her.”

Armand Isard... the Director of Republic Intelligence, an ambitious man. Palpatine liked ambition. It made men predictable, gullible, and easy to control. Ambitious men will only act to benefit themselves, and are incapable of trusting others. But when you can convince them your goals are roughly in the same direction... ah, that’s when they become cooperative. No trust–only mutual benefit.

A sort of... ‘I scratch your back, and you scratch mine.’ That is the only language they understood.

The most important part is the first step; identifying the itch. It was also the easiest step. Armand Isard was simple enough–as simple as every other ladder-climbing halfwit in the Republic Military. Like the rest, he strived to reach the top, and was willing to lie, betray, and murder his way to it. Anything for that fleeting moment when he could see the entire galaxy at his feet, the fate of millions in his hands... before the next ambitious man snatched him by the ankles, threw him off, and took his place.

But what made him different from the rest is that he produced results. And so Palpatine identified him early on, back when he was a mere Senator from Naboo, and promised to scratch his back. Palpatine presented himself as just another ambitious senator, but deceptive enough not to show it. Armand Isard was let in on a secret and oh, did men like him love being in on secrets. It made them feel special, like they were part of something larger, as if that made them larger.

And now, Senator Palpatine was the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, and Inspector Isard was Director of Republic Intelligence. A most profitable relationship. And so long as Isard continued producing results, this relationship will continue... so it is most unfortunate that Republic Intelligence has been demonstrating less-than-satisfactory competence as of late.

“Senator Amidala is not some sort of anomaly, Director,” Mas Amedda said dryly, “Will you also ‘do something’ about Senator Organa and Senator Mothma as well?”

“Amidala is not the same as Organa and Mothma, Deputy,” Isard paced the office, “Their years of service have tempered their idealism; made them realists. They can be bargained with. But Amidala? From the day she entered the Senate Chamber... and her resolve has only grown under the wing of Senator Bonteri.”

Palpatine slowly lowered himself into his chair, steepling his fingers. Senator Mina Bonteri... yes, he was vaguely aware of her. She was an ardent supporter of the Rim Faction, despite her world’s Inner Rim location. By all means, she shouldn’t have been a very large player in either the Rim or Core Factions, as Onderon simply didn’t have the influence... if it were not that her force of personality made up for her homeworld’s intrinsic lack of pull.

Even among her human colleagues, Bonteri stood head and shoulders over many, and held herself with all the dignity only a woman raised by the wildness of Onderon could. When the person you spoke with could crush your phalanges in a handshake, one tended to be very receptive. Even if she did not have the... eccentricity of Onderon in her, Amidala still picked up her mentor’s pride and character, because as she had proved not too long ago, it made men listen.

“Amidala would never have had the material to work with in the first place had your department not failed so critically,” Amedda scathed, “How did a Separatist superweapon slip past Republic Intelligence?”

“They did not slip past, Amedda,” Isard shot back, “By every report, these ‘superweapons’ were not present in-system prior to the battle. Nor were they present after the battle?”

“Who do you expect to believe that?” the Chagrian Vice Chair scoffed, “How did scores of dreadnought crushing mass drivers get assembled and disassembled in a matter of hours?”

Isard threw his hands up, replying with words the Director of Republic Intelligence should never utter; "I don't know. But it's the truth. The only proof we have of these 'superweapons' were asteroid fragments and derelict freighters. Our agents are currently investigating, but considering what the energy readings from our surviving ships have to say, our current hypothesis is that the Separatists fabricated a composite tractor field based weapon-"

Boring.

“Nevermind that, Director,” the Chancellor beckoned him to sit, “What about the Separatist dreadnoughts? They certainly exist, don’t they?”

“That... is a failure of Intelligence,” Isard admitted as he dropped onto a couch, “We knew the Free Dac Engineering Corps were building something large on Pammant. But Pammant has always been impenetrable to us. All the logs we could acquire indicated the massive amount of important resources had been earmarked for a new fleet. We now know how the Separatists are disguising the construction of these Subjugator-class dreadnoughts. The next time we find a similar paper trail, we won’t make the same oversight.”

“Next time is useless!” Amedda slammed the Speaker’s staff on the ground, “Where are the dreadnoughts now? I hope you have an answer, Director, for your sake.”

“One is at Lianna and the other is at Celanon– but that’s not important!” the Director insisted, “As we speak, the war is coming to a close, and something needs to be done about this!”

Armand Isard desired power. He wanted more funding for Intelligence, more influence over other branches of government. Armand Isard believed Sheev Palpatine desired to retain his Administration; to prolong his already overdue terms by justifying the continuity of the Emergency Powers Act. At this moment, factions in the Senate led by Mon Mothma were already arguing it was time for the Chancellor to vacate his position.

The path to both desires? Keep the war going; until their positions were so consolidated and so unassailable it would no longer matter if the galaxy was still the same in the end.

“Very well,” Mas Amedda filled the Chancellor’s silence, “What do you suggest?”

“Our biggest problem is Amidala’s stranglehold on the HoloNet. Right now, she is the golden child of the Republic,” Isard’s cold blue eyes were inhuman as he spoke of her, “But if she falls during the summit–it would make her a martyr. I can procure a ‘Separatist pro-war extremist’ for the job. Not only is her untimely death one of the few things that could overturn public opinion of the peace efforts, it will also rid of an existing and future problem.”

“A controlled political opponent is useful, Director,” Amedda’s jaw tightened, “Especially in the Senate. Not that I expect you to understand why.”

“There are a hundred other senators that can fill that role,” Isard leaned forward, expecting the Chancellor’s answer, “Organa, Breemu, Mothma, Chuchi, Feenix... Amidala’s downfall will be a blow, but it will also be the spark that reignites the flame of the Republic.”

The two men paused, waiting for the Chancellor to break his silence. Palpatine placed his elbows on the table, knitting his fingers together. The death of Padmé Amidala... will be useful, especially if it is believed the crime was committed by the Separatists. It would throw young Skywalker into a rage, yes, a rage against the Separatists, against Dooku. The grasp of the Dark Side will tighten around him... especially if Skywalker convinces himself her death was his fault.

But it would also be too early. Palpatine had not finished his war on democracy, not while he still has to pretend to be an ardent proponent of it. It was not easy, balancing the fine line and convincing the galaxy he was always forced to ‘regretfully accept further expansion of my executive powers.’

The completion of the New Order, the destruction of the Jedi Order, and the fall of the Chosen One must coincide perfectly, lest one interfere and prevent the other.

“Amidala still has her uses,” Palpatine gestured to Amedda in agreement, “Her outspoken opposition in the Senate is a critical curtain rod that maintains the facade of this Administration.”

“Organa and Breemu’s deaths won’t have the same impact,” Isard warned, “Nothing shy of this office controlling all media in the Republic will make them change their stance. Other than Amidala getting hit by the Separatists.”

“Controlling all media in the Republic...” the Chancellor muttered, “The entire galaxy is looking at Onderon.”

Armand Isard narrowed his eyes, “Your point, Chancellor?”

“What is the state of our fleets in the Core?”

If the Director was taken by surprise, he did not show it; “Depleted. And with the Republic Navy overhauling its divisional structure to absorb its losses at Columex, our fleets are rather preoccupied. If you would allow me, Chancellor.”

“Of course.”

Isard rose stiffly, commandeering the data feeds and holoprojector on the Chancellor’s desk to display a detailed star map of the Core. Jagged red lines sliced up the spacelanes and sectors into Sector Army Commands, and glowing pins spawned all across the charts, over system markers and crawling along hyperlanes. An inconspicuous, easily overlooked pin bobbed just a few parsecs south of Coruscant itself.

“High Command wants to avoid our frontlines being shattered by the Therbon Plan,” the Director explained, pointing at the mass of pins lining the Mid-Outer Rim border at Centares, “Thus the strategy is to bend, but not break. To do that, reinforcements need to be redeployed Rimward from the Core Sector Commands. As you can imagine, the Governor-Generals of the Core were not pleased.”

“The Senate’s emergency amendment to the Military Creation Act allows High Command to take every measure necessary to limit the damage done,” Mas Amedda said gruffly, “The Governor-Generals may protest, but they cannot prevent anything.”

“Exactly,” Isard agreed, “They’ve identified the primary reason of our struggling offensives to be the inherent uncooperative nature of the Sector Command structure. This is the Armada Reformation Directive, recently passed through Strategic Planning Amphitheatre by a vast majority. The command of all existing fleets is to be centralised under the Navy of the Republic. In effect, it expands the Navy’s role from de jure authority to de facto authority. The Governor-Generals will no longer be able to use the Sector Fleets as their personal playthings.”

The war will continue. I have foreseen it so.

I will make it so.

The Chancellor pointed at the pin on the starchart, the one he had noticed from the beginning, but had been seemingly overlooked by Director Isard. It was small, with a slight design that suggested no more than a hundred ships.

“This...” he jabbed a crooked finger, “Foerost. This is a security risk. What has Republic Intelligence gathered?”

Armand Isard wetted his lips, flicking his datapad and directing the display to focus on the Foerost System. The single red pin scattered into some seventy different warships, concentrated northward of Foerost. A planetary ring orbited the world; the Foerost Shipyards, one of the largest and oldest in the galaxy, dating back twenty-four thousand years. In the years after the Ruusan Reformations a millennia ago, the Republic had sold the shipyards to the Techno Union... the same Techno Union now aligned with the Separatist Alliance.

“There,” the Chancellor pointed at the number of dark spots bouncing between the shipyards and the planet, “If my memory serves, Republic Intelligence had identified those objects as cargo ferries.”

“The only inhabitants on Foerost are miners,” Isard confirmed, “Those ferries supply the Foerost Shipyards with materials from the planet.”

“Which means they are building something,” Palpatine pushed his palms flat against the desk, rising to his feet, “What are they building?”

“Despite our best efforts,” Isard started, browsing his files, “Techno Union shipyards remain as impenetrable as ever. Loathe as I am to admit it, the Skakoans are masters of operational security... mostly because they don’t hire workers outside of their species. However, some of our spy ships were able to closely observe the shipyards before being driven away. We are drafting a report on this, but please take a look.”

The system chart was replaced with a series of holo-photos of the Foerost Shipyard’s graving docks, and after a bit more fiddling, circles and pointers honed in on details that would have been invisible if not for advanced image analysis.

“What are we looking at, Director?” Mas Amedda stalked forward for a closer look.

“We have observed high levels of sustained activity occurring within the Shipyard’s graving docks. The amount of industrial discharge has also been consistent with expected levels from mass starship construction. We have also visually identified...” the Director pointed at miniscule shadow almost completely obscured behind the orbital ring, “...What looks like the drive blocks of multiple vessels hidden in the orbital ring’s radar shadow.”

“Wait,” Amedda physically recoiled, aghast, “All graving docks are active? How many docks does the ring have?”

“Just under two-hundred.”

The Chagrian looked about ready to maul Armand Isard with his staff, “You are telling us that the Separatists are building a fleet right under our noses, only five hours away from Coruscant?”

“That is... an accurate assessment.”

“And why wasn’t this known to us earlier?” Amedda pressed, consternation seeping into his tone.

“Because whatever the Separatists are building, they have made no signs of revealing anytime soon,” Isard replied tersely, “We can accurately track the progress of their fleet by the activity of their graving docks. While the Techno Union has made efforts to disguise their progress, it is obvious which docks have completed construction and which haven’t. Of the some two-hundred bays, only half have lowered activity.”

“A hundred warships.”

“Not to mention,” he continued, casting his gaze between the Chancellor and the Speaker, “As you had so aptly proven, Speaker Amedda; any such news, especially at such a crucial moment like this, would cause chaos in the Senate. And from the Senate, it would spill into the media. This is not the kind of attention we need in the HoloNet. It is Republic Intelligence’s advice that we prepare a task force to handle this threat, but not reveal it too early lest the Techno Union realises we are onto them.”

The Chancellor silently tapped the comlink on his desk, “Sly, my dear, could you please come in?”

As if she was waiting just outside the door for such a moment–which she most certainly was–Sly Moore stalked into the office like an Umbaran skeeris, almost gliding over the floor in her shadowcloak. Skin as pale and lifeless as flimsi, the Chancellor’s Senior Administrative Aide bowed, eager to serve.

Ah, now there was someone who knew how to keep the house clean. Sly Moore would have made the perfect apprentice; she was capable, deadly, and above all, loyal. It was so unfortunate, then, that she was only capable of wielding the Force to touch and manipulate the minds of others, and little else. Very useful, yes, and that was why she was his Chief of Staff, but nothing powerful enough to warrant greater favour.

But Palpatine supposed her steadfast loyalty and zeal must be rewarded somehow. It is decided, then, that when he declares his New Order and rules the galaxy as Emperor, Sly Moore will be by his side.

“My dear,” Palpatine was nothing but affable as he transferred the data onto a chip before handing it to the Umbaran, “Please direct this information to the Senate Security Council and Senate Military Oversight Committee. Director Isarde, I would like you to do the same for the Intelligence Oversight Committee.”

Sly Moore’s response was immediate and unhesitating; “Understood, Chancellor.”

Armand Isard, on the other hand, was more inquisitive, “Might I ask the purpose of this action, Chancellor?”

“But our loyal senators in these committees will realise the danger of such critical information,as you did, Director,” Palpatine allowed a leisurely smile to overcome his expression, “However, now that the data has been obtained by three different committees, it will only be a matter of time before it is revealed to the Senate. Knowing this, it will be an astute senator’s prerogative to draft a bill that ensures the media never catches wind of this information.”

“The only way to achieve that is by ending all private sector media,” understanding dawned in Amedda’s eyes, “This... might have enough support, if enough parties realise the implications of this information.”

“Precisely, my dear Speaker,” Palpatine scanned the list of senators in the committees, already picking out who will draft and who will introduce the bill, “The Senate will vest even more power into this office–against my wishes, of course. I will make sure of it “

Armand Isard shifted, impatience dripping from his voice, “Indeed, that will be very beneficial to you, Chancellor. But may we return to addressing the peace summit? Might I remind us that none of this will matter if the war ends and you are forced to surrender the rest of your term?”

“Director, the safety of the Republic must come first,” the Chancellor insisted, “This... Foerost fleet must be contained. The damage of them potentially breaking out will be unimaginable. Are there any available forces in the Core that can bolster the blockade?”

“The Fifth Reserve Armada will be redeployed as you ordered, Chancellor,” Director Isard thinned his lips, “Is that not enough security?”

“That will take far too long. We must reassure the Senate of our commitment to defence,” Palpatine slowly retook his seat, making no effort in actually looking concerned, “We have the... the Victory Project, was it?”

“The Victory Initiative Project,” the Director corrected icily.

“Yes,” Palpatine pointed meaningfully, “Are our new cruisers ready? I’ve heard only good things from the Project’s progress.”

“The estimated completion date has been brought forward by useful combat and operation data from our Tectors,” Isard supplied, oblivious to the Chancellor’s true thoughts, “With some convincing, Kuat and Rendili will be able to deploy the first batch of the Victory-class in months, if not weeks.”

“Immediately,” the Chancellor stressed, “Deploy the ready ones immediately. The rest can follow at their own pace. It is simply critical we reinforce our fleet at Foerost as soon as possible.”

“At Foerost?” the Director slammed the desk, “Chancellor, moving our latest battlecruisers to Foerost will make the Separatists believe we are–!”

Isard interrupted himself, the creases in his face deepening as slowly interpreted Palpatine’s actions. The Director of Republic Intelligence was a smart man, and as he unflinchingly held his stare with the most powerful man in the galaxy, Palpatine could see a macabre sense of appreciation bubble in the man’s unflappable heart.

Armand Isard quirked a small, rare smirk, “It will be as you order it, Chancellor. The Separatists, the Republic... no, the entire galaxy is looking in the wrong direction.”

The Chancellor of the Republic shook his head somberly, “We should have known it was a mistake to ever believe the dastardly Separatists would open negotiations in good faith.”

If Director Isard had been a more humorous man, Palpatine thought he may have burst into laughter.