The Senate Rotunda was never silent.
Even when no voices rose, even when no debates took place, the chamber hummed a faint vibration of repulsorlifts, environmental regulators, and the collective weight of ten thousand worlds breathing under one roof. The Republic was grand, vast, ancient and exhausted. The Clone War had only begun, and already it strained every artery of the galaxy-spanning government.
Chancellor Sheev Palpatine stood at the central podium, robes immaculate, expression carefully crafted to show fatigue without weakness, sorrow without despair, determination without arrogance. His appearance never faltered not even under bright Senate chamber lights that exposed the imperfections of lesser beings.
The holoprojectors flared to life, displaying battle reports from across the Outer Rim.
Burning cities.
Shattered fleets.
Falling Jedi.
A shudder passed through the Senate.
Palpatine lowered his head, voice soft.
"My fellow Senators… the Separatist threat grows bolder with each passing cycle. Their armies advance, their fleets multiply, and our noble defenders—the Jedi are stretched across thousands of frontiers."
His tone carried no accusation. Only sorrow.
Perfect.
"The Clone Army fights valiantly, yet we lack the necessary numbers to defend our worlds and our freedoms. The Republic must act. Not tomorrow, not after committee debate now."
Dozens of Senators murmured. Some fearful. Some calculating. Most already owned.
Standing from her floating pod, Senator Bana Breem of Kuat spoke with rehearsed conviction.
"Kuat Drive Yards can expand production of Venator carriers and Acclamator transports immediately. But we require authorization for wartime shipyard expansion."
There it was.The hook.
Palpatine nodded graciously.
"And you shall have it."
Gasps, whispers, attention shifting as if drawn by gravitational pull.
Senator Nix Card of the Inter-[Galactic Banking Clan, projecting via hologram, adjusted his spectacles.
"The Banking Clan will extend interest-free credit to support this fleet expansion so long as the Senate grants emergency war asset security privileges to ensure repayment."
A polite way to say:The Republic will belong to the bank when the war ends.
But fear drowns caution. Fear chooses survival today and debt tomorrow.
A pod slid forward Bail Organa, his face drawn with worry.
"Chancellor, this is no small measure. Emergency powers have already been granted. To extend them further risks weakening the Senate's role in governance"
A ripple of unease.
Palpatine bowed his head in respect.
"Your caution honors you, Senator Organa. But consider the alternative. If the Republic falls, what remains to protect our liberties? If our enemies take Coruscant, what use is Senate procedure? Peace requires victory. And victory requires strength."
He raised his eyes soft, pleading, benevolent.
"I ask not for power. I ask for the means to secure peace."
Exactly the words the Senate wanted needed to hear.
Senator Mas Amedda bellowed:
"All in favor of granting the Chancellor extended wartime command and military production authority?"
Pods rose. Thousands of them.A sea of compliance.
Opposition existed small pockets, quiet voices but drowned beneath applause and cheering hollow triumph.
The vote passed.
Power was not seized.
Power was given.
The Jedi Temple High Council Chamber
The sunset bathed the spires in molten gold, reflected across polished marble. The Jedi Council sat in quiet tension.
Mace Windu's jaw was tight.
"Emergency powers again. Production expansions. A clone mobilization order in the millions. This is not sustainable."
Master Yoda closed his eyes.
"Grip tightening, the Chancellor's hand becomes. In shadows, something grows."
Obi-Wan stood respectfully at the chamber's center, traveling cloak still marked with dust from his last campaign.
"The war is going poorly. General Grievous continues to out-maneuver us. It is not simply numbers the Separatists are coordinated in ways we have not anticipated."
Mace's gaze sharpened.
"And the Senate gives Palpatine more authority with every defeat."
Yoda's ears drooped.
"Blind, they are. Afraid, they are. Freedom traded for promise of safety, hm."
The Council did not yet see the trap.
Only that they were losing.
Outer Rim Front — Vanqor System
The Separatist flagship cut through the void like a spear.
General Grievous stood at the bridge viewport, cloak draped over his armoured shoulders, eyes burning like furnace coal. His breath rasped mechanical, cold, measured. Unlike the theatrical monster the Republic propaganda would one day paint him as, this Grievous was clarity sharpened to a killing point.
No rage.No frenzy.
Just purpose.
"Jedi cruiser has entered system," reported a tactical droid.
Grievous did not turn.
"Position Trihex-Formation. Cut off their hyperspace egress vector."
The droids moved. Precise. Efficient. Like extensions of his will.
The Jedi cruiser emerged already surrounded.
On its bridge, Master Daelin Voss felt the noose tighten.
"He's already predicted our entry path. Ready weapons! Launch fighters!"
But the battle was not a battle.
It was a lesson.
Grievous watched the Republic form defensive lines.
Too slow.
"Commence pincer collapse. Apply plasma shear. Target the command bridge."
The Separatist fleet moved in silence no taunts, no dramatics just inevitability.
The Republic cruiser cracked open like bone. Escape pods launched, scattering like sparks.
Grievous turned away before the explosion bloomed.
"Send salvage teams. Recover lightsaber crystals. They will be needed."
His voice was calm.
Not victorious.
Expected.
Coruscant War Funding Council
Deep beneath the Senate District, in private conference lounges where holo-recorders did not reach, the true war was fought.
Representatives of the Republic's largest industrial, financial, logistical, and armament syndicates gathered around a polished obsidian table.
Palpatine moved among them like a conductor before an orchestra.
Kuat Drive Yards.Rothana Heavy Engineering.Corellian Engineering Corps.SoroSuub Corporation.The Banking Clan's loan assessors.Trade Guild resource brokers.
Powerful men and women tycoons, nobles, oligarchs every one of them owed him something now.
Some owed their fortunes.
Others owed their lives.
"Production quotas will increase by forty percent," Palpatine said softly. "Clones require armor. Ships require engines. Blasters require tibanna gas. War requires investment. And investment requires return."
Eyes glittered with hunger.
War was a furnace.
They were the ones selling fuel.
A Corellian factory magnate leaned forward.
"And when the war ends?"
Palpatine smiled faintly.
"When the war ends… the Republic will be grateful to those who preserved it. You will be rewarded with reconstruction contracts, exploration charters, territory rights, mining concessions, transport monopolies…"
The magnate exhaled.He had just heard the promise of nobility by profit.
"Then, Chancellor, you shall have everything you require."
It was said gently.
But what it meant was absolute:
The war will not end until you want it to.
Jedi Casualty Records Rising Toll
Holo-tables flickered with names.
Master Kennis Val – confirmed killed above Hypori.Master Voss – presumed deceased.Padawan Brig Lisen – lost on Felucia.Knight Saral Diem – executed on Mygeeto.
The hallways of the Temple grew quieter.
Not by choice.
By subtraction.
Senate Media
Holo-networks broadcast Palpatine's words across the galaxy:
"Together, we stand strong. Together, we will restore peace."
Civilians believed him.
Because the alternative was despair.
Meanwhile… Palpatine Worked Alone
In his private office, lit only by the distant glow of Coruscant's city-lights, Palpatine stood still, hands folded behind his back.
The galaxy was moving exactly as he wished.
Fear.
Dependence.
Gratitude.
Wars can be won with fleets.
But empires are won with obligation.
"Soon," he murmured to himself, voice silk and poison,"they will ask me to rule them forever."
And they would.
Not because he demanded it.
But because they would no longer remember how to live without him.