"Of course, Senator Dod, I will convey your point to them clearly and understandably." Nodding with focus, Rick Dicker watched the arrogant Neimoidian leave with a long, unreadable gaze. His entire concentrated demeanor practically screamed that reason and rationalism were currently prevailing over emotion, but deep in his soul—where only his Master could look—the former Judicial Forces investigator was beside himself with rage.
Carefully clasping his hands in front of him and lowering them along his body, he noted out of the corner of his eye dozens, perhaps hundreds of gazes fixed upon him, each piercing no less sharply than a Jedi's sword.
Mocking, gloating, neutral, interested... and not a single sympathetic one. But having spent long years in this cesspool, Rick had long ceased to be a naive boy; he would have been more surprised if someone had actually allowed themselves a moment of pity toward him.
Over decades of working with the Galactic Senate, the former investigator had built a rather terrifying and formidable reputation that everyone had to reckon with. Having influential patrons in the private sector and maintaining connections within the high ranks of the Judicial Forces, he also possessed what was essentially his own pocket army, which could easily descend upon any "enemy of the Republic" the moment Rick pointed a finger.
Everyone understood this... and most importantly, they acknowledged it, which was why no one ever dared to speak to him in such a tone, except for one single person...
The moment that thought slipped through his mind, the elderly but still strong and clear-headed Chairman of the Defense and Security Committee exhaled slowly, finally calming down.
His gaze, once full of secret discontent, regained its composure, and his thoughts flowed more smoothly and confidently, already calculating how to respond to the challenge thrown his way.
"Excellent work, my friend. Your meditation practices have improved greatly; it seems Master Salic's lessons have served you well." As if emerging from the shadows, the very man Rick had just mentioned appeared beside him. Flinching almost imperceptibly, the man turned smoothly and without haste toward his patron, who hid his ambitions and grand ideas behind the mask of a smiling simpleton from Naboo. "It seems to me our Neimoidian friends have begun to feel far more confident and arrogant than they should... Don't you agree, Senator Fhakgol?"
Hiding a smile and some of his words behind a glass, Senator Palpatine waved affably to a couple of acquaintances who had also decided to attend the gala evening at the officers' club.
"Quite right," said a stout old man, whose belly pulled his once-mighty shoulders toward the ground as he stood beside them, grabbing a couple of snacks from a nearby plate and tossing them into his mouth by the handful. "It only took that terrible tragedy on Eriadu..."
"And right after that, they quite coincidentally push a law through the Senate to rearm their ships," a dry, tall lady with a long nose picked up the thread. She was one of Fhakgol's companions, likely another exotic assistant or a gold-digger, or perhaps both. "I've heard rumors that the Neimoidians themselves orchestrated the deaths of most of the Trade Federation Directorate..."
"Pardon me, but why would they do that?" an old Nautolan interjected, joining the conversation. Without even noticing how it happened, Rick quickly found himself surrounded by acquaintances, supporters, and friends of the senator from Naboo, who began zealously discussing the latest gossip and news, sharing their opinions... But more importantly, the many gazes directed at Dicker changed, and now people tried to give him a wide berth to avoid clashing with a powerful Senate faction.
"I heard that after the crushing defeat in the recent war, Nute Gunray is trying with all his might to push this law through, but the Directorate refused him their support..."
Taken gently by the elbow and habitually surrendering to the care of one of his Master's assistants, Rick was carefully and professionally led out of the crowd that had spontaneously formed in the corner of the festive hall.
Accustomed to such maneuvers, as this was far from the first time it had happened, he looked forward relaxedly until the doors closed behind him, leaving him alone with the senator of the Chommell sector.
"As always, graceful and magnificent, Master..."
Before he could bow, Rick was stopped by a commanding wave of a hand. Sitting down in an ornate chair, Palpatine pressed a couple of buttons on the armrest, forcing them to listen for nearly a minute as changes occurred along the walls, floor, and ceiling, and the steel clank and soft hum of power fields spread through the room.
"No need for such flattery now, Chairman Dicker," Palpatine said, smiling his very best smile as he invited him to the table, offering exquisite treats and wines for every taste. "What do you think of the evening?"
"To be honest..." Glancing questioningly at his Master, Rick pulled a pack of fruit cigarettes from his coat and, receiving a permissive nod, quickly took a drag of the toxic stick, clearing his mind. "I am disappointed... though I'm not yet sure in what more..."
"Won't you explain, old friend?" A polite question, a tribute to tradition and the etiquette of conversation, to which both men smiled understandingly.
"What pushed our good friend the Viceroy to such a thing? Pride and overconfidence, or perhaps banal stupidity?"
"One is not easily distinguished from the other. But I find myself asking the same question," the tone of voice was so familiar to Rick that he was a hundred percent certain: if they were currently in Palpatine's private sanctuary, he would surely see the famous yellowing of the eyes of the followers of the Dark Side. "I think we should remind our dear Viceroy that while he has gained power in his beloved Trade Federation, he himself remains the same..."
"You are suggesting...?"
"Exactly," Shiv said, swirling his glass and smiling charmingly—the very smile that had won hundreds of hearts in the Senate. "Your little project has shown itself in the best possible light; all that remains is to conduct the final exam."
Saluting with his glass, the Sith Lord downed a shot of whiskey, inhaling the aroma of the expensive drink with pleasure. His smile, attractive and gentle on one hand, looked like a gruesome, mad mask in the gloom of the shadows and from a different angle...
***
"Terrible things are happening... This uprising, provoked it was... Ahem..."
Tracing a large clawed finger around his chin, Grand Master Yoda cast a thoughtful gaze over the assembled members of the Jedi Council.
Most of the Council members had gathered here today; only Master Eeth Koth continued to track the situation in the Yinchorr system, with the planet of the eponymous race... or rather, what was left of them. A proud and Bellicose people, they now stood on the brink of extinction, and Master Koth...
His blue hologram expressed maximum displeasure, for as soon as the Zabrak finished his story, he asked a perfectly fair and important question.
"What measures will be taken regarding the Helldivers?"
And like most of those gathered around, the Master did not deny himself a few minutes of reflection to approach the issue thoroughly.
"They destroyed their people almost entirely; out of several million, only a pathetic handful remains that can hardly survive..." Eeth Koth continued to insist.
"The Yinchorri attacked the Temple, and furthermore, they attacked many planets," Ki-Adi-Mundi, recently admitted to the Council, frowned sternly, crossing his arms over his chest. His gray beard bristled hostilely, and his eyes sparked with discontent. "As terrible as it sounds, they violated many laws and treaties under which they were accepted into the galactic community..."
"But is this not..." the Zabrak tried to dispute his words, but at that exact moment, the Grand Master tapped his cane on the floor.
"The Darkness around us has begun to thicken, ahem..." Closing his eyes and turning to The Force, Yoda turned his head from side to side, twitching a long pointed ear amusingly. "This conflict is not accidental... To clash with each other, they want us. To shed blood, to sow enmity..."
"Their leader, Altman, said that we are still their allies," Micah Giiett added his quiet word. The stout man folded his hands over his stomach, settling comfortably in his chair. "Furthermore, as sad as it is to admit—the truth is on their side, as is the Senate."
Looking into the eyes of the only hologram in the room, Micah received a dissatisfied snort full of reproach in return.
"As I recall, we are Peacekeepers," Eeth Koth said, unwilling to back down, gesturing around the Council chamber. "It was the Jedi who should have resolved and regulated this problem, not staged a genocide."
"Hmm..." A new hum from the Grand Master caused the growing argument to stop, and its participants listened intently to the quiet voice of the eldest Jedi. "Sad I am for the tragedy that occurred, but change nothing can we, nor call the Assassins to account... Not the sword struck the Yinchorri, but the hand that guided it."
"Reasonable," a dry and harsh voice, like the clank of rusted steel, broke the ensuing silence. The Lannik man, Even Piell, his fresh scar gleaming where his left eye used to be, looked over those gathered. "Do we not observe the laws of the Republic? So what is the point of this conversation? The Helldivers were fulfilling an order from the Judicial Forces and the Defense and Security Committee; if anyone is to be questioned, it is them."
Striking his small fist against the armrest, the Jedi leaned back into his chair, satisfied with the effect produced. He then continued to cement the result.
"For some reason, none of you protested when they stormed pirate bases and slaver dens, but suddenly here..." Waving his hands, the Lannik leaned forward, resting against the chair. "We have already arranged surveillance on them and sent negotiators, and this... Altman himself! He visited the Temple, so I see no more reason for discussion... We have far more important matters."
An argument began to flare up in the hall; Eeth Koth and the supporters of diplomacy defended their point of view, while the more radical members of the Council supported Piell. Sitting in his chair, Grand Master Yoda watched the dispute from the side, reflecting on what had happened, and the longer the conversation between the two sides lasted, the more his ears drooped, until he whispered quietly under his breath so that no one could hear:
"Eh... The Darkness envelops us..."
****
"Guns to battle!"
The formidable wail of a battle siren struck the ears of the crew of the ship "Dawn of Democracy." Hundreds of feet stomped across the steel floor, shouts and cursing were heard from every deck, and the plasma reactor entered afterburner mode.
The Adjudicator-class cruiser, in company with its sister ship and an escort group, moved into attack position, realigning and shielding the convoy with its hull. A convoy they had sworn to protect during the passage through hostile galactic space.
It had been two months since the new law on trade duties was passed, and the Trade Federation gained the right to fully rearm its ships operating in the Outer Rim... and finally, the first rotten fruits of this decision were making themselves known.
"Shields to port and forward hemisphere to maximum. Load torpedoes! Have the Carracks launch fighters; if even one droid tub reaches my ship, I'll rot you all to hell!" Striking the instrument panel with his fist, simultaneously scaring a cleaning droid with his speech, the ship's Captain jumped up from his seat, knocking the cursed cap off his head with a sweeping motion of his hand. "Have the Nemesis come out behind us, just tell that bitch not to get burned on our engines, or else..."
"I hear you perfectly, Charles," a calm female voice with a solid dose of mockery sounded in the cockpit. Noriega, Captain of the Nemesis, the twin cruiser, who had just come on the line, did not hide her laughter now. "Only, it would be better for you to be careful..."
"What the—!?"
Through the viewport, Charles Haresa watched as a massive starship streaked at considerable speed along his starboard side, moving into attack range. The bulky vessel maneuvered easily, bypassing the escort ships and making them wet their pants with fear. Like an elephant in a china shop, the Nemesis moved forward, and before Haresa could give an order, the Adjudicator's guns erupted in fire, twin shots flying toward the approaching Trade Federation vessels.
"Arrogant goat!" Roaring like a wounded rancor, Charles grabbed the helmsman—whose duties were currently being performed by the first officer—and spraying spit, shouted directly into his face. "If that brat knocks out more donuts than we do, you'll be scrubbing decks for the rest of your life!"
"Everyone heard the order?! Full ahead!" His voice cracking, the officer straightened his tunic as soon as he was freed and, entering new commands, led their cruiser straight toward the enemy. "Today will be a glorious day in the history of the Helldivers!"
"Finally, a normal war, not these childish skirmishes on planets!"
"Don't worry, Charles, when I'm done, you can go back to wiping the asses of long-haulers, ha-ha-ha!"
The bold female voice caused a flush and an abundance of pulsing veins on the face of the Captain of the "Dawn."
"Why the hell is she still on the line with us?!" Despite his biting comments about planetary battles, Haresa himself was an excellent field commander and had spent a long time in combat under various conditions until he decided to radically change his life after being in a starship cockpit only once. "Cut her off, now!"
"But, Captain... it's protocol..." Bleating, struggling to get the words out, the comms officer looked with fear into the face of the monster he called the ship's commander. "Vice-Commander Somnia ordered us to maintain it no matter what..."
BOOM.
Silence descended upon the bridge. The hushed operators, comms officers, and assistants stared questioningly at their Captain, who was now profusely changing color from red to white.
Struggling with himself, the man put on his most friendly smile and squeezed out in a crooked, hoarse voice:
"Well done... Leave the connection, buddy."
"Ha-ha-ha!"
"Bitch!"
Out of rage, Charles suddenly clenched his fist and broke the Captain's PDA containing all the passwords and orders, but right now the man didn't even notice, for the first shots from the Nemesis had reached their target.
Flashes of explosions rolled across the outer ring of the famous Trade Federation ship, tearing through the hull and forcing the cruiser—which was surely commanded by a cowardly Neimoidian—to hastily retreat and hide behind its comrades.
Suddenly, the "Dawn of Democracy" lurched violently. The deck threatened to slip from under their feet, but the crew, accustomed to space battles and other galactic dangers, held their ground and continued the fight.
"Report!"
"Sir, a hit to the bow." Quickly reading the report, the officer frowned seriously, but soon his brows smoothed out and he spoke in a much calmer tone than at first. "The shield partially collapsed but is already regenerating. Enemy fire is heavy and concentrated..."
"So they really did slap a bunch of new guns on those wrecks," Haresa spat directly onto the floor, leaning his fists on the dented table. "Prepare the boarding parties; I think our logistics guys will want to see what they've stuffed in there..."
Pulling out a pack of extremely foul-smelling and cheap cigarettes, which made the Captain's voice grow coarser and harsher every year, the man lit up right there, then spoke in a much calmer and more focused voice.
"Hear that, Noriega? Leave one ship operational..."
"Well, you've gone all boring and serious again, and I liked it so much when you..."
"Did you hear the order?" Those terrifying steel notes cut through Haresa's voice. The sepulchral tone under which his soldiers had stormed the planets of various aliens and enemies of Democracy.
"Yes, sir." The time for games was over, and despite the foolishness at the start, each of them was already a seasoned veteran and officer who understood when to cast aside jokes. "We'll leave the far left one for our eggheads; let them have their fun."
***
Read early on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Granulan