=== Nira ===
The door slid shut behind Bo-Katan with a soft hiss, leaving Nira alone in the quiet glow of the chamber. For a few heartbeats she simply stood there, the datapad trembling faintly in her hands as she reread Palpatine's final string of messages.
She sank into her chair, drawing a slow breath as she tried to sift through worry, anger, and the growing sense that forces were moving too swiftly for her to control. The walls hummed with the steady pulse of the ship, normally a comfort, but today it felt as though the vessel itself were holding its breath.
Then golden light rippled at the edge of her vision, and before she could rise, the regal and imposing form of Sanguinius materialized in the center of the room. His wings were half-unfurled behind him, but the expression carved into his features was anything but serene.
There was an urgency in him that she had never seen in him before. Before she could greet him, he spoke, not wasting a single moment on pleasantries or preamble. "We must find Vulkan," he said, voice low. "It is now our highest priority."
Nira straightened, placing Palpatine's messages aside. "I agree," she answered, meeting his intense gaze. "But if this is truly the situation on the ground, then our next steps need to be measured. Diplomacy should be the—"
"Diplomacy is not what is needed now," he interrupted, and the force of his determination hit her like a physical gust of wind. He took one step closer, the light from his wings casting long shadows across the room. "Vulkan is my brother. My kin, my blood. If our roles were reversed, he would not hesitate for an instant. He would tear apart the galaxy itself to reach me."
She softened her voice, hoping to anchor him, to find the calm beneath his agitation. "I understand, and I don't dismiss the weight of this. But we are already stretched so thin. If we push too hard, too fast, we risk fracturing everything we've been building. There is a way to move carefully while still—"
But again he cut her off, and this time the veneer of patience had fallen away entirely. "We have moved carefully enough," he said, wings rustling as his agitation deepened. "While we tread lightly and bow to courtesy, the Jedi and their Republic have hidden my lost brother from us. I don't know how or why, but we will get him back."
Nira opened her mouth, wanting to explain, to point out that the situation was not so simple, that the Jedi were not a single, united entity, that secrecy was often born of fear rather than malice. But Sanguinius' voice rose, not quite a shout, but close enough that it vibrated in the floor beneath her feet.
"We have honored every deal, respected every boundary, held back every instinct that told us to act decisively. And for what? Courtesy? Politics? Tact?" His hands clenched at his sides, golden gauntlets shimmering as though reacting to his turmoil. "They have treated us as dangerous beings to be managed, not allies to be trusted. They kept Vulkan from us. They kept a Primarch from his own people."
Nira stood and took a slow step toward him, her tone firm but gentle, hoping to defuse the spiraling intensity. "Sanguinius. Listen to me. I know how deeply this cuts you. I know what it means. But anger cannot guide us here, not when the stakes are this high. If we lose control of this situation—"
He snapped.
It wasn't violent, nor was it a loss of control in the way mortals displayed it. But something inside the angelic demigod broke through its restraints, and emotion flooded his voice with a raw, pained edge. "I have already decided," he said, each word struck like a hammer on stone. "And I will hear no more of your prattle!"
The silence that followed crashed over them like a wave. Nira froze, not because she feared him, but because the harshness in his tone cut straight through her. She had stood beside him in war, he had counselled her through uncertainty, defended her from horrors that no man knew of. But never once had he spoken to her like an obstacle, like she was something in his way.
Her face shifted, the hurt subtle but unmistakable. She nodded once, more out of instinct than decision, and turned toward the door.
"Nira, wait." His voice wavered, a crack of remorse slipping through the agitation. She paused only for a heartbeat, but she did not look back. He reached out, taking a small step after her. "I did not mean to speak to you so harshly."
But the damage was done, and the sting still lingered across her chest like a bruise. She closed her eyes briefly, gathering herself, and continued walking. The door slid open, the hallway beyond cool and dim compared to the room's golden light. Without a word, she stepped through and let the door seal behind her, leaving Sanguinius alone with the echo of his own words and the dawning realization of how deeply they had cut.
The silence that settled in the chamber afterward was heavy. He stood motionless, wings drooping, the glow around him dimming as regret settled into his bones before he leaned forward across the table, his head bowed as he released a long, slow breath.
=== Maximus ===
Maximus did not so much enter the meditation chamber but ruptured it.
The doors slammed back against the walls with a metallic crack that echoed through the dim, incense-laden air, and every head inside snapped toward him. The chamber had always been a sanctuary, but the moment Maximus stepped across the threshold, the entire atmosphere tightened like a rope on the verge of tearing.
Dooku rose from his position first, the soft fall of his cloak barely audible in the sudden silence. His expression held that practiced, aristocratic calm he always carried, but even he could not fully mask the slight narrowing of his eyes as he took in the Space Marine's posture.
"Maximus," he began, "What has—"
Maximus didn't let him finish.
With a stride that devoured the distance between them, he closed the gap, seized the Count by the front of his robes, and hoisted him into the air as though he weighed nothing. The other Jedi moved at once, Shaak Ti surged to her feet, Plo Koon's taloned fingers curled as though reaching for a hidden force, and several others took sharp, defensive stances, but none advanced. None dared cross the invisible threshold drawn by the rage burning in Maximus' eyes.
"DID YOU KNOW?" Maximus roared, the sound so loud it rattled the meditation bowls on the floor. Dooku's boots dangled inches above the ground, his robes pinched in the Marine's gauntleted fist.
"Did you know about the Jedi hiding Vulkan from us?"
The chamber erupted into overlapping voices, questions, protests, warnings, but they all fell uselessly against the iron wall of Maximus's fury. His grip tightened, metal creaking. Plo Koon took a step forward, hands raised.
"Maximus," the Kel Dor urged, "release him. Whatever grievance you carry can—"
"Stand down," Dooku snapped, though the command came strained from the pressure against his chest. The others froze at once, though they were ready to intervene if Maximus so much as twitched in the wrong direction.
Dooku turned his gaze back to the towering Ultramarine and spoke with a firmness that refused to bend. "Put me down. We will speak, but not like this."
But Maximus didn't even seem to hear him. His breathing thundered inside the chamber, each inhale drawn through clenched teeth as he repeated, low but no less dangerous.
"You knew. You all knew. The Jedi. The Republic. You hid Vulkan from us."
Dooku tried again, voice harder now. "Put me down."
Maximus shook him instead, a sudden violent jolt that sent the older man's legs swinging. Robes snapped, boots scraping, the Count's normally impeccable composure cracking as irritation and concern slid into his expression.
"ANSWER ME!" Maximus thundered. "Did you know? Did you know he was within their grasp while we were led to believe he was lost to us forever?"
Dooku's jaw tightened, but his reply was firm, unshaken by the Space Marine's fury.
"I do not know what you are speaking of."
For a heartbeat Maximus stood frozen, searching Dooku's face as if he could punch through the truth by force of will alone. Then, slowly, his arm slackened, and he let the once Jedi Master drop.
Dooku hit the floor with a muted grunt, landing on one knee before steadying himself on a hand. Shaak Ti and Plo Koon rushed to his side, but Dooku waved them off with a terse, irritable gesture.
Maximus stood over him like a statue carved from judgment itself, looming without apology.
"Prepare yourselves," he said, voice low and final. "You will accompany us to Coruscant. We will leave soon."
The chamber went silent again, though now the silence carried the weight of dread.
"What are we planning?" Dooku asked.
He straightened slowly, brushing dust from his robes, and stared up at Maximus as realization settled like ice in his gut.
Maximus took two steps toward the door before Dooku's words stopped him.
"This is the opening blow of a war."
Maximus didn't turn fully. He just angled his head slightly. He spoke no words, offered no denial, no reassurance, no threat.
The silence was his answer.
Then he walked out, leaving behind a room full of Jedi who had once stood apart from the Order but now found themselves facing the looming shadow of a conflict far larger than anything their meditations had ever prepared them for.
The door hissed shut behind the Ultramarine, and the chamber exhaled at last, shaken and uncertain of what the next hours would bring.
Shaak Ti was the first to break the stillness. "I did not leave the Order to become a weapon against it," she murmured, eyes narrowing with a hurt that cut deeper than anger. "We walked away because the Jedi had lost their way, not because we wished to see them slaughtered."
Plo Koon inclined his head, the quiet rasp of his breath-filter breaking the hush. "I agree. Whatever truth lies behind this… accusation… It does not justify slaughter. We cannot stand idle while Coruscant is burned to the ground. These are still our brothers and sisters."
One by one, the others voiced similar thoughts, concern, moral conflict, and disbelief. A mix of old loyalties and new convictions tugged at them like a dozen unseen hands, pulling them in opposite directions.
But Dooku rose slowly, and when he finally lifted his gaze to the others, there was a grim resolve in his eyes that none had seen in years.
"No," he said simply.
"If there is truth in what Maximus claims, if the Jedi and the Republic knowingly concealed the existence of a Primarch from the Imperium, then we must acknowledge the gravity of that betrayal." He moved past them, each step measured, the sweep of his robes whispering against the floor. "We have all seen how deeply these warriors value their kin. To hide such a thing… It is more than a political slight. It is a wound. And wounds of that scale do not heal with apologies."
Shaak Ti stepped forward. "But that does not mean we must allow a war to begin."
"And what would you have us do?" Dooku countered gently, though steel underpinned his tone. "Race to Coruscant with warnings the Council will dismiss? Plead with the Republic to show restraint when their first instinct is to debate what they should do without action? No. What has been set in motion cannot be undone. The Imperials will act, and we cannot stop them."
Plo Koon's gaze softened. "Then what role do we play?"
"Mitigation," Dooku answered. "If we cannot prevent what comes, then we can at least shape it. Reduce harm where we can. Guide events rather than be dragged behind them." He gave a weary, almost sorrowful exhale. "But we will not interfere with the Imperials' response. Their grievance is… justified."
The room grew colder at that.
The others exchanged uneasy looks, but Dooku did not wait for further argument. He dipped his head in a polite but distant nod and strode toward the door, leaving behind a trail of tension that no one dared touch.
The door sealed shut behind him, and for a long moment, no one breathed.
Quinlan Vos finally let out a scoff, half frustration, half disbelief, and pushed away from the wall he'd been leaning against. "Well," he said, fingers dragging through his hair, "I'm not just going to sit here while friends of mine get blindsided. If the Imperium marches on Coruscant, someone over there deserves to know."
Plo Koon's head turned. "Quinlan—"
"No." Vos shook his head sharply. "If the Council won't listen to reason, then perhaps they deserve their fate. But what of the younglings, the padawans? Someone has to look out for them. I won't let this blow up without at least trying." His jaw tightened, eyes bright with that familiar streak of reckless empathy. "I'm going."
He didn't wait for approval, nor for farewell. He simply walked out, boots striking the floor with a rising determination, and disappeared down the corridor before anyone could stop him.
The remaining Masters stood in a troubled silence, watching another door close, each of them realizing that whatever came next would test every vow they had ever made, and every reason they'd walked away from the Order in the first place.
"Im going with him." Plo Koon said, turning to the other members.
"I cannot just stand by and let the innocent suffer for the mistakes made by their elders."
=== Palpatine ===
Palpatine stood alone in the high silence of his office, framed by walls of glass that looked out over the endless sprawl of Coruscant. The city-planet breathed in layers, traffic streams glowing like molten veins, towers piercing the low clouds, the steady hum of repulsorlifts echoing faintly even through insulated transparisteel. He watched it all without really seeing any of it, his mind already several steps ahead, tracing the contours of a future only he could feel taking shape. There was a certain stillness before a great moment, a poised tension, and he let it wash over him.
A soft chime stirred the air. His gaze lowered to the comm panel on his desk. For a heartbeat he simply observed the blinking signal, savoring the anticipation, then drifted toward the chair with the calm grace of a man who knew he commanded every piece on the board. He sat, pulled the heavy hood forward to shadow his features, and with a touch, activated the transmission.
Blue light blossomed into the form of a clone commando, armor matte, stance rigid, voice clipped with the discipline of someone bred for nothing but absolute obedience. "My lord," the soldier said, bowing his head. "Everything is ready. The objective has been secured. Vulkan is prepared for transport."
The words were stripped of any understanding of the enormity of what they meant. Palpatine, however, let them settle into his mind like a priceless melody finally reaching its crescendo. His lips curled into a slow, measured smile, one that never reached his eyes. When he spoke, it was with the quiet satisfaction of a man watching a trap close exactly as intended.
"Excellent, Commander. Proceed as instructed. Leave nothing to chance." He leaned back, fingertips resting lightly on the armrests, as though conducting invisible currents. "Contact me the moment your task is complete."
"Yes, sir." The clone bowed once more, then dissolved into cascading light.
Palpatine did not move at first. He let the silence return, let the glow of the city spill across his desk and flicker along the faint smirk carving deeper into his face. With a faint exhale, he pushed the hood back, letting it fall around his shoulders. The mask of the humble Chancellor settled effortlessly over him once more, the transition practiced and fluid.
The door hissed open, and one of his aides hurried inside, clutching a datapad. "Chancellor, the Senate is assembled. They're ready to begin today's session."
"Splendid," Palpatine replied, turning toward them with a benign smile, the very image of patient leadership. "Tell them I'll be along shortly."
The aide nodded, relief softening their features, and retreated. The door whispered shut again.
Now alone, Palpatine allowed the smile to stretch wider, deeper, until it became something monstrous. He rose and approached the window once more, watching as the sun crested over the skyline, gilding the city in soft fire. Billions lived their lives unaware that the world they knew had begun to unravel, threads pulled quietly by a hand they would never see until it was too late.
"Hours," he murmured to himself, gaze drifting towards the Jedi Temple. "Only hours now."
The city continued its restless motion, oblivious. Palpatine stood above it all, serene in the knowledge that the empire he had dreamed into existence was no longer a possibility, it was an inevitability.
===
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