The Senate chamber was never silent. Even when no debates were held, the cavernous dome of durasteel and transparisteel seemed to hum with centuries of argument. Today was no different.
From his platform, Senator Palpatine of Naboo leaned lightly on the railing, a serene expression masking the hunger in his eyes. Delegates from the Core to the Outer Rim bickered about tariffs and border disputes, their voices clashing in an endless cacophony.
Palpatine let them speak. He wanted the chaos. Every word of discord was another stitch in the tapestry he was weaving.
Finally, Mas Amedda, the Vice Chair, bellowed for silence. The floor yielded, and Palpatine stepped forward, his tone calm yet commanding.
"Esteemed Senators," he began, "the galaxy grows restless. Piracy spreads across trade routes. Corporate guilds stockpile arms. Worlds once loyal to the Republic now speak of secession. These are not whispers to be ignored they are warnings."
He let the silence settle before continuing."The Jedi, for all their wisdom, cannot patrol every system. We must ask ourselves: what is the Republic if it cannot protect its own citizens? We need unity, resolve, and decisive leadership."
Murmurs swept the chamber. Some senators nodded, impressed by his clarity. Others narrowed their eyes, suspecting ambition beneath the words.
Palpatine smiled faintly. That was fine. Suspicion and fear were tools. Tools I will turn upon them when the time comes.
That night, in a hidden chamber deep beneath Coruscant's surface, the Senator shed his mask. Cloaked in black, he stood before his master.
Darth Plagueis the Wise loomed in the gloom, eyes glinting beneath his hood. His voice was smooth, deliberate. "You spoke well, apprentice. They look to you now, even those who doubt you. It will not be long before your voice sways the Senate as the loudest of them all."
Palpatine bowed, though the gesture was shallow. "They crave order, Master. They are weak, divided, desperate. All they need is a shepherd strong enough to lead them into the pen."
Plagueis's lips curled in a thin smile."And when that pen becomes a cage?"
"Then they will thank me for it."
The elder Sith's laugh was quiet but dangerous."Patience, my apprentice. The galaxy must rot further before the Republic falls into our hands. We shall cultivate the decay."
Palpatine bowed again, but inwardly his thoughts burned hotter. Patience. Always patience. But the galaxy will not wait forever. And neither will I.
Far from Coruscant's halls of power, rain hammered endlessly against the shining domes of Tipoca City. Within its sterile halls, Jango Fett stood in full armor, watching rows of white-armored cadets march in perfect unison.
"Again!" he barked, voice sharp and unforgiving. "Form up tighter! You're soldiers, not thugs in a back alley."
The clones obeyed instantly, their movements mechanical but precise.
Kaminoan scientists observed silently from the platforms above, recording data. To them, the clones were property, numbers in a sequence. To Jango, they were weapons his weapons.
Yet as he watched one young squad execute a flawless breach-and-clear maneuver, he allowed himself a flicker of pride. Not bad. They'll make fine soldiers. Mandalorian soldiers in everything but name.
He adjusted the training scenario, ordering live-fire exercises with lethal precision. These clones would one day march across the galaxy, and Jango Fett would be remembered not just as a bounty hunter, but as the man who shaped an army.
On Coruscant, Palpatine returned to his private apartments, the cityscape stretching out before him in endless rivers of light. He clasped his hands behind his back, reflecting on the day's proceedings.
The Trade Federation. The Banking Clan. The Techno Union. All pawns waiting to be nudged. All fearful of instability yet blind to the greater storm.
Soon, they will beg for stronger rule. And I will be there to answer.
His reflection on the transparisteel window warped, darkening as though the shadows themselves bent toward him. His lips curled in satisfaction.
The galaxy still believed him to be nothing more than a dedicated servant of Naboo. But in truth, he was already much more.
Senator Palpatine. Dark Lord of the Sith. The galaxy's future Emperor.