belamy20
patreon
*Chapter 34: The Curtain Rises*
🕑 Added 2025-05-18 22:11:07 +0000 UTCAs they left the towering spires of the Jedi Temple, Obi-Wan Kenobi grabbed his fast-walking master, Qui-Gon Jinn. “Master, are we really just dropping this? Handing it off to the Republic’s Commerce Department? By the time they remember to look into it, I’ll be a 90-year-old hermit!”
“You heard the High Council’s decision,” Qui-Gon said, shaking his head and continuing on.
They passed a room where a tall, white-haired man was speaking via holocomm to someone in an ornate robe. Sensing their presence, the man waved a hand, and the door slid shut.
“That’s Master Dooku,” Obi-Wan noted. “Looks like he’s talking to Senator Palpatine. They’ve been getting cozy lately.”
“Ever since the Mandalorian campaign ten years ago, my master has lost faith in the Jedi Order,” Qui-Gon explained. “He’s leaning toward political solutions now. His connection with Senator Palpatine isn’t surprising.”
“Fine, but what about the Endor system?” Obi-Wan pressed. “Are we really just ignoring it?”
“We’ll investigate ourselves.” Qui-Gon climbed into their ship and set a course for Coruscant’s administrative district.
Obi-Wan grinned at his master’s actions. “So, you’re starting to lose faith in the High Council too?”
“It’s not about trust,” Qui-Gon said, pointing to the co-pilot’s seat. “The Republic is stretched thin, dealing with too many issues. They don’t have the capacity to handle everything. But we do.”
---
“…That’s the situation, Senator,” Master Dooku said calmly to the holographic image of Senator Palpatine.
“So, a group’s colonizing Endor with a massive civilian ship, and they took out the bounty hunters you sent,” Palpatine said with a chuckle. “Interesting, sure, but not exactly our problem. Maybe in 200 years, Endor will join the Republic.”
“With respect, Senator, Endor is in the Outer Rim, far beyond the Republic’s reach,” Dooku countered. “Even if a sovereign planet rose there, the Republic couldn’t govern it.”
“That’s exactly what we’re working toward, Master Dooku,” Palpatine said, spreading his arms enthusiastically. “A stronger, more unified Galactic Republic. One where a single command can mobilize the entire galaxy’s resources. When that day comes, we’ll be unstoppable.”
“You’re a good man, Senator Palpatine—a rare kind of politician,” Dooku said gravely. “But I must warn you: in this corrupt Republic, people like you don’t tend to last long.”
“Even if I’m assassinated tomorrow, I’ll die on the right path,” Palpatine replied solemnly. “My death would light the way for others. The Republic needs people like me to make that sacrifice.”
Dooku took a deep breath and bowed. “As long as people like you exist, there’s hope for the Republic. Thank you, Senator.”
Palpatine returned the gesture. “It’s my duty, Master Dooku.”
After ending the call, Palpatine left the Galactic Senate, returning to his modest home. He shed his senator’s ornate robes, donning a plain gray cloak and pulling the hood low. Checking that no one was watching, he slipped through a hidden passage to a concealed airspeeder and vanished.
In a dark, maze-like corner of Coruscant’s industrial underbelly, Palpatine stepped off the speeder and activated a unique comm device. A hologram flickered to life, revealing a fierce-looking woman with facial tattoos. She snarled, “You shadowy creep, finally bothering to call?”
“You’d better hope I’m in as good a mood next time,” Palpatine growled, his voice now low and raspy, like an old, wounded beast. “The Nebula Front is under my control.”
The woman’s temple twitched as she suppressed her anger. Bowing her head, she said, “Fine. What’s the target?”
“Rima Trade Route, 47 standard hours from now,” Palpatine said darkly. “A Trade Federation convoy will stop there to resupply with minerals. Hijack the shipment and deliver it to Kalinda. Someone will handle the goods.”
“Payment?”
“I’ll have the credits laundered. You’ll get half—2 million credits. The other 2 million is for another job: use a bank trust fund in your name to transfer those credits to my agent.”
“As long as the money’s good, it’s no issue,” she said. “Who’s the recipient?”
“The current Galactic Chancellor, Finis Valorum,” Palpatine hissed, his distorted voice dripping with menace.
The woman laughed. “Oh, that’s rich. We’re in.”
---
*Dawn Star, Outer Orbit, Mothership Lower Deck*
A solemn military bugle echoed through the vast, empty deck.
No band played—the sound came from the main computer, yet it did nothing to dampen the somber, heroic atmosphere.
Ventus stood at the forefront, dressed in a crisp military uniform, saluting sharply. Behind him, key Fourth Civilization officials like Qi Jian and Clement stood in a row, also saluting.
Before them, 100 marines lined both sides, their assault rifles fitted with bayonets raised to the sky. In the center, 42 metal coffins were neatly arranged, each etched with the Fourth Civilization’s emblem: a simplified galaxy with four spiral arms, crossed by two swords symbolizing strength and authority. Above, the letters “4TH”; below, the word “Scourge,” representing the Fourth Civilization—or the Fourth Cataclysm.
These 42 coffins held the remains of the 34 fighter pilots and 8 transport crew members killed in the bounty hunter attack. They were the first warriors of the Fourth Civilization to fall since arriving in the Star Wars universe. Everyone present knew they wouldn’t be the last.
Ventus took a deep breath and spoke slowly. “They were the best warriors, the finest pilots. I believe, given a fair fight, any one of them could’ve taken down those bounty hunters with ease. But they didn’t get that chance. All they had were outdated fighters.”
His voice rose with conviction. “Even so, they didn’t hesitate! They knew their weapons couldn’t pierce the enemy’s shields, knew a single shot from those laser cannons could end them—yet they didn’t back down! Because every one of them understood they were guardians… guardians of the final spark of our Fourth Civilization!”
---
*[Easter Egg: Image 1 - Galactic Republic Senator, Sheev Palpatine]*
