Kalee
26 BBY
He tried not to glare at the senators.
Bail Organa of Alderaan; Orn Free Taa, the only fat Twi’lek Qymaen had ever seen; and Mon Mothma, the Senator of Chandrila, stood before him.
“You are all despised in this world. Your communique didn’t offer many details. Yet you are still allowed under the banner of peace,” he said. He stayed his hand only because of Queen Amidala’s assurances and the understanding that killing those senators would not be worth the trouble.
“Tell me, senators, what made you come to Kalee?” he asked. Only his Izvoshra and the other important tribe chiefs were allowed into the meeting room.
The rest were too emotional.
Bail Organa, one of the beacons of democracy in the Senate, spoke first. “You, and your people, have every right to hate us. There is nothing we can say for the wrongs done to you by the Republic. You were the victim, yet we believed you to be the perpetrator. The Yam’rii ravaged your world, and once they lost the war, we sanctioned you into starvation.”
His Izvoshra bristled but not outwardly. He could see it in the subtle way they tensed, the way their knees bent slightly.
“Digging up fresh wounds is unwise,” he said, almost growling as the pain of the memories
“Not digging up wounds, Warlord, merely acknowledging the Senate’s faults,” Orn Free Traa said, eyeing the fresh fruits on the table.
Whether they were despised or not, customs dictated that anyone under the flag of peace be offered food and water.
He chuckled. Why that blue waste of space had come with Organa and Mothma, he would never know. Where they called it ‘our fault,' Orn Free Taa specifically said the Senate.
“Our ignorance is not an excuse. We can’t change the past. What we can do is to try to make amends,” Mothma joined. As two of the most prominent senators to champion reparations to the Kaleesh, they were the ones sent to lead the talks.
A dangerous prospect but one they had volunteered for.
His chest rumbled, deep and slow. “Amends? You think you can make up for the suffering my people went through? This, I must hear.”
“When the Yam’rii stripped your world of its resources and rendered what remained unusable, they earned massive profits,” Organa said. The surface resources weren’t the important part, though.
“Resources?!” he slammed his fist on the table, finally losing his composure. “They sold hundreds of millions of my people to slavery.”
“Which is why,” Mothma joined, holding out a datapad to him, “the Republic has started a program to return them to Kalee, all financed by the frozen Yam’rii assets.” Hundreds of thousands, kept in the mines of Huk and Outer Rim worlds that enjoyed trade with the Republic, were freed. The cost of transport, rehabilitation, and compensation were covered by the assets.
Non-member worlds had to agree to pay for the costs as well, lest they face sanctions. She was truly grateful to Chancellor Palpatine in this matter.
“Along with the fines, interest, and the investments made with the plundered resources, a reparation package of six hundred fifty billion credits will be handed to the Kaleesh,” Free Taa said. The amount was subjected to rigorous disputes and financial investigations.
That it had taken so little was nothing short of a miracle.
“An additional two hundred billion credits for the economic and social damages caused by the Republic’s unjust sanctions will also be added to that amount,” Mothma said.
That part was nothing compared to the actual damages the sanctions had caused. However, getting more out wasn’t possible, not even with the Chancellor’s efforts.
“Eight hundred and fifty billion credits, huh?” he said to himself. It certainly was better than nothing. At the least, they could finance small-scale industrial growth on Kalee.
But he had more important matters for now. “And the bugs?”
“If you mean the Yam’rii, they are facing sanctions. Their seat in the Senate has been suspended. All their previous claims will be investigated,” Bail said. That a member would commit such heinous crimes and hide it from the system for so long was an…
Embarrassment wouldn’t even begin to describe it.
“And our burial sites in Oben? The Republic returned it to the bugs. There have been many attempts to desecrate it,” he said. So far, only the threat of one last potential assault had stopped them.
It wouldn’t last long.
“The colony can not be given to you. However, the Republic will be open to posting peacekeepers outside the burial site for protection.” Unless it was between two members, the Republic did not have the power to decide which side should take possession of a star system or a specific planet.
She knew the Kaleesh would never be a part of the Republic.
“That would have been acceptable if we trusted you.”
“Then I am afraid you will have to solve this issue with the Yam’rii.”
“So it would seem.”
“Was there anything else?”
“No, Warlord,” Organa said, already getting up.
“Then leave my world.”
—
“That is quite a bit of credits,” Anakin said. Sure, it was less than one third of what they had extracted from the Trade Federation, but they didn’t have to twist any arms for it.
He nodded, hand rubbing his chin beneath his mask. “We will use it to buy machines and supplies for our farms. After that, we shall see.”
The holographic projection of his brother turned to his left. “Corlen, can the mobile manufacturing centers be modified to produce farming equipment?”
“They are universal. As long as you don’t want something complex, they can make it.”
“Excellent. We’ll send half of them to Kalee. You’ll simply need the raw resources,” he said.
Qymaen gave a slow, deep bow. “Then we can perhaps build factories for fertilizers and such and invest in our infrastructure with the excess credits.”
“Good. Now if you excuse me, I have a meeting,” Anakin said, disappearing without an explanation.
“With whom?” he asked Corlen. He was kept informed of any meetings should his input be necessary.
There was nothing in the schedule.
Corlen shrugged, going through his datapad. “He didn’t say anything to me.”
—
Huk
The homeworld of the Yam’rii reminded him of Kalee as he had first seen it.
Desolate.
The difference stemmed from the advanced technology of the bugs. Skyscrapers dotted the capital. Airspeeders formed tight lines in traffic jams. The well-paved roads were perfect for leisurely walking. It was no different than any other metropolitan city in the galaxy.
Except for the fact that it was built on wealth and lives plundered from other worlds.
The Yam’rii were ruled by a loose coalition of aggressive warlords. There was no single leader to speak to. Their council ruled from the capital in a grand assembly.
Assembly was his destination.
The first one to realize who he was was a local. He couldn’t tell its gender, but what he could see was the fear in the bug’s eyes. He slowly backed off, silent, arms brought in front of him, watching.
His reaction triggered a chain of similar acts. Every single Yam’rii in his vicinity backed off, giving him a wide berth. Not a single one attacked, however.
—
He strolled up inside the meeting chamber without a single interruption.
There were eleven warlords gathered, each too alike for him to tell apart. Sitting around a half-circle table, they fell silent upon his entrance. Eleven sets of beady eyes watched him, unwilling to act yet.
“What do you want?” The one in the middle asked, his speech a mix of different-toned clicks.
The color of his exoskeleton was a darker green than the rest, perhaps indicating age.
“Is this how you greet a guest?” He summoned a table and a chair, pouring himself a cup of tea. “No wonder everyone hates your kind.”
“As for what I want, it is simple. You will cede Oben to the Kaleesh,” he said, taking a long sip from his cup.
The rightmost Yam’rii stood up. “You dare to come here and make demands of us?” His compatriots locked eyes on him, forcing the bug to sit.
He let out a long, drawn-out sigh, a serene smile visible beneath the hood. “Obviously.”
“We are not the Hutts. You are a fool to have come here,” the middle one said, testing the Sorcerer.
Orange, ethereal blades appeared behind him, one for each warlord. “If, even for one second, any one of you believes that I am in danger, well, you are warlords, you should be armed,” he said, taking another sip.
“I opened a portal from Tatooine to here with a wave of my hand. I defeated Jabba the Hutt single-handedly. I control the hyperspace lanes. It took,” he raised his voice, leaning forward, "two and a half weeks for the Trade Federation to buckle before me.”
He relaxed once more, done with his tea. “Shall we test how long you’ll last, especially with the Republic sanctions?”
"Obey, you say.”
“Yes. I want you to immediately,” he said, stopping as his senses flared. One of the warlords raised his arm, a blaster in gauntlet form on it, ready to fire. He was faster, however, launching a single blade. It cut through the distance in less than a blink of an eye. The sharp blade cut through the bug’s head. The guard section didn’t follow the lead, instead transferring the kinetic energy to the warlord. His head snapped back and he stood motionless for a moment before falling.
The remaining Yam’rii watched him in silence.
“As I was saying, I want you to immediately cede Oben to the Kaleesh. Otherwise, well, just as I have techniques to restore a planet, I have the ones to destroy them,” he said, turning around, opening a portal to home.
He didn’t look back.
—
Kalee
“What?”
“They are withdrawing all claims on Oben, declaring it Kalee territory.”
“Do they think we would fall for that?”
“The Sorcerer was there. He killed one of the warlords and threatened to burn their planet if they didn’t do as told.”
Qymaen threw his head back, his holoprojection getting disrupted for a moment. He howled, bringing a smile to Bentialis’ face. The sorcerer had walked into the meeting of the Yam’rii warlords, threatened them into compliance, and had left.
“Move as many of our people to Oben as you can. We need to secure the planet before they can decide otherwise.”
“As you wish.”
—
Sereno
“Lord Tyranus, report,” Sidious said. Whenever their plans were progressing smoothly or there was an issue, Dooku could tell what his master was feeling by the tone of his voice.
He took a deep breath, preparing himself.
“My master, Nute Gunray doesn’t remember anything,” he said.
“What?” Even though Sidious spoke through a holoprojection, Dooku felt the temperature drop sharply.
“He does not remember anything after being rendered unconscious on the ship. I believe the Sorcerer has tampered with his memories. I checked his mind; there is nothing to be found,” he said. He had spent agonizing hours probing Gunray with the Force. Whatever the sorcerer had done had left no evidence behind.
“Are you telling me all those concessions have been given for nothing except Gunray’s worthless hide?”
“Yes.”
“You fool,” Sidious bellowed, and Dooku once more felt his airways constrict.
“Neimoidians are scared,” he forced the words out, trying not to struggle to preserve energy and oxygen. “They are committed more than ever, believing that the Force is the only possible way to stop the Sorcerer,” he explained.
It had come as a surprise to him. With Gunray’s state and the losses they had suffered at the hands of the Sorcerer, the Trade Federation leadership was terrified. The only possible mystical counter to his abilities was the Force.
Unaware that he didn’t think there was a single living Force sensitive who could hope to contend with the Sorcerer.
Sidious dropped his apprentice. “Then perhaps this wasn’t a total loss.”
“Keep working with our allies. In the meantime, stay away from Tatooine and the Hutt-held territories.”
“Yes, my master.”
—
Naboo
Theed Royal Palace
Padme bowed before the new queen.
Being relieved of her position had taken some of the weight off her shoulders. The pain and responsibility of her handmaidens, guards, and citizens stayed, though.
As expected, Jamillia had won the election. She had given her speech; the short period of orientation where Padme showed her the ropes was over, and she had finally taken her place.
“Padme Amidala. You are without a doubt one of the greatest leaders to ever grace Naboo. Enough that our people, including me, wanted to elect you for a third term.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said, bowing. Her back felt stiff as she was the one on the receiving end of this.
“What are your plans for now?”
“I honestly don’t know,” she said. She couldn’t tell the truth to anyone in the room.
“Then perhaps I can offer you something.”
“Oh?”
“As you know, Senator Vencil is our current representative in the Senate. However, given his advanced age and desire for retirement, I would like to offer you his position. I cannot think of a single individual better poised to represent Naboo and our values in the Senate,” Jamillia said.
Padme blinked. She was actually going to investigate the mastermind behind Gunray no matter what. She wanted to do it as a former politician retiring in Coruscant. The Senate, where the Sith lord held great influence, was actually the perfect place.
“I would be honored,” she said. There was nothing to consider. It would put her in the spotlight, but as long as she played the naive, idealistic senator, there would be no reason for anyone to suspect her.
She would investigate the rot from the inside.
“Then it is agreed. You may take as long as you need to visit your family and rest. Your security and ID details will be ready by then.”
—
“It is going to feel weird, not calling you Your Majesty,” Asajj said, leaning on the wall outside the main gate once she had left the palace. Not as the queen on a task or a young leader seeking to free her world, but as Padmé Amidala.
Or rather, Padme Naberrie.
“It is fine, Asajj. You will get used to it,” she said, getting into the airspeeder. She greeted Vaeliae with a nod, and she took off.
“Didn’t actually expect you to be a senator now. Do I call you my lady or senator?” Asajj asked. She would follow her to Coruscant, but the thought of being so close to the Jedi left her…
Angsty.
“Whatever you feel like,” Padme said, her attention on the outside.
She crossed her arms. “You want to investigate the Sith lord, don’t you?”
“Is it that obvious?” she asked before shaking her head. Of course it was. “I am going to visit my family first. You can come if you want.
Ventress smirked. “How can I miss the chance to meet them at last?”