Carpathia

The night air hummed with repulsorlifts as a Naboo based starship descended onto the Senate landing platform. From her place among the handmaidens, Cassandra kept her hood drawn low, her posture serene despite the unease coiling in her gut. Something wasn’t right. Captain Typho had insisted on increased security, and while the extra personnel stood at attention around them, she knew an attack wouldn't come from an obvious angle.

The ship abruptly landed, jostling the passengers to the side. The pouring rain slid down the windows, the cabin light unsteadily flickering over the glass.

Crap weather?

Cassandra didn't answer, instead leaning back and glancing out of the window. The highway lanes above them were teeming with yellow and red lights.

Yeah, bad weather.

She heard and felt the sigh as if they were next to her.

That makes it the third day in a row. Seriously, we have to consider a different city.

The security's low voices quietly talked amongst each other, the electric lamps fizzing in the background. Head tilting to the side, Cassandra felt herself wander off.

There's no point thinking about it now. This was the best choice.

There was another long, heavy sigh.

I know

Dormé stepped closer, her voice just above a whisper. “Stay close. Once we’re inside, we can breathe easier.” Cassandra gave a small nod but kept her senses stretched wide, feeling the tension in the Force. Cassandra slightly nodded but kept her senses sharp, feeling the tension ripple through the Force. As the ramp began to lower, she and Dormé positioned themselves on either side, prepared to assist Cordé if necessary. Cassandra’s unease deepened as Cordé stepped forward.

Fire erupted from the starship in a blinding flash, a shockwave slamming into Cassandra’s chest as she was thrown back. The world tilted—heat, metal, screaming. She landed hard, rolling instinctively to shield Dormé from the brunt of the explosion. Smoke swallowed the platform, thick and choking. Her ears rang, and the acrid stench of burning metal and oil filled her lungs as she scrambled to her feet, scanning for threats through the haze. Cordé lay crumpled near the wreckage, her breaths shallow and labored. Padmé was already at her side, cradling the dying handmaiden’s face. Cassandra pushed back the knot of grief forming in her chest, focusing instead on the platform’s perimeter. Shouts echoed as security forces fanned out, but the tension in the Force warned her this was only the beginning.

“I’m sorry, my lady…” Cordé gasped, her fingers weakly clutching Padmé’s hand. “I failed you…”

Padmé shook her head, her voice breaking. “No. You did your duty.”

Cordé’s body stilled, her last breath escaping softly. Cassandra clenched her fists, pushing down the surge of guilt and loss. There was no time to grieve. Captain Typho’s urgent voice broke through the chaos.

“We need to move—now!”

Padmé’s face hardened, her anguish pushed aside by determination. Dormé took her arm gently. “My lady, please. We can mourn later.”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she murmured. “It was a mistake coming back”

Dormé gently took Padmé’s other arm, her voice softer but no less firm. “Please.”

Padmé exhaled sharply, nodding as if forcing herself back into motion. “Yes… you’re right.” As they made their way inside, Cassandra’s mind worked fast. This wasn’t a random act of terror. It was calculated. And if the attacker had failed once, they would try again.

The rush to the apartment was quiet, filled only with the distant hum of speeders and the muted footsteps of guards escorting them. Padmé said nothing, her expression unreadable, but she could feel the weight pressing down. Once inside, the silence was thick, heavy with unspoken grief. Padmé stood near the vanity, staring at her reflection in the polished glass. Soot smudged her cheek, and her elaborate travel gown was stained from smoke and ash.

Dormé moved first, unfastening Padmé’s outer robe with practiced efficiency. “You should change before the Senate meeting,” she said softly.

Padmé didn’t respond at first, her fingers curling slightly at her sides. “She shouldn’t have died.”

Dormé’s hands stilled for a moment before continuing. “She knew the risks, my lady.”

“That doesn’t make it easier,” Cassandra interjected gently, stepping forward with a damp cloth. She began wiping the soot from Padmé’s cheek, her movements careful and steady.

Padmé met her gaze through the mirror, dark eyes flickering with emotion. “No,” she admitted quietly. “It doesn’t.” The senator didn’t flinch, only exhaled slowly, grounding herself in the small act.

“We need to focus on what comes next,” Cassandra said after a pause. "Go forward for Corde."

Padmé inhaled sharply, squaring her shoulders as if physically pushing the grief away. “I won’t let this stop me.” Dormé nodded approvingly, selecting a fresh gown and beginning to fasten the delicate clasps. With quiet efficiency, they helped Padmé prepare, ensuring not a single strand of hair was out of place. It was a careful ritual, one that masked the emotions they couldn’t afford to show. Once ready, Padmé turned to them, her composure fully in place. “Let’s go.

-----

The vast rotunda of the Galactic Senate buzzed with urgent voices, each senator clamoring to be heard over the others. The weight of impending war loomed over them, thick as the Coruscant smog. At the center of it all stood Mas Amedda, his voice cutting through the noise.

"Order! We shall have order!" His deep, authoritative tone barely made a dent in the rising chatter. "The motion for the Republic to commission an army takes precedence, and that is what we will vote on at this time."

The chamber quieted, thousands of eyes turning toward the central podium as Supreme Chancellor Palpatine stepped forward. His expression was grim, carefully composed, and when he spoke, his words carried the gravity of a man deeply shaken.

"My esteemed colleagues, excuse me..." He paused, allowing a beat of silence to settle over the Senate. "I have just received some tragic and disturbing news." Another pause—long enough for unease to creep in. "Senator Amidala of the Naboo system… has been assassinated."

A stunned silence fell over the chamber, a collective intake of breath. Whispers followed, rippling through the pods like a rising tide. Palpatine continued, his voice thick with solemnity. "This grievous blow is especially personal to me. Before I became Chancellor, I served Amidala when she was Queen. She was a great leader who fought for justice, not only in this honorable assembly but also on her home planet. She was so beloved she could have been elected queen for life." He let the words hang in the air before adding, "She fervently believed in democracy. Her death is a great loss to us all."

A respectful moment of silence followed, but it was broken swiftly as Senator Ask Aak of Malastare maneuvered his pod forward. His voice rose in frustration.

"How many more Senators will die before this civil strife ends? We must confront these rebels now, and we need an army to do it!"

Another pod glided into place, this time occupied by Ambassador Darsana of Glee Anselm. His expression was troubled. "Why weren't the Jedi able to stop this assassination? We are no longer safe under their protection."

The voices of agreement swelled, and Orn Free Taa, the corpulent Senator from Ryloth, moved his own pod to the forefront. "The Republic needs more security now! Before this comes to war!"

Palpatine lifted a hand, his voice still smooth, still commanding. "Must I remind the Senator from Malastare that negotiations are continuing with the separatists? Peace is our objective here, not war."

The Senate erupted into divided shouts, pro-war and anti-war factions clashing in an uproar of sound. Mas Amedda attempted once more to call for order. Cassandra kept her hood drawn just slightly forward, scanning the room with a keen eye. The Senate’s reaction had been immediate when their pod moved, and not all of it was relief. Some senators were merely surprised, others… unsettled. It made her uneasy. Someone had wanted Padmé dead, and now they knew their attempt had failed.

A murmur of shock and confusion spread through the chamber at the sight of the supposedly deceased senator. Padmé stood tall, her voice steady as she addressed the Senate. "My noble colleagues, I concur with the Supreme Chancellor. At all costs, we do not want war!"

The chamber fell silent once more—then, a wave of relieved cheers and applause rolled through the crowd. Palpatine's expression shifted ever so slightly, a flicker of something unreadable before he spoke. "It is with great surprise and joy that the chair recognizes the Senator from Naboo, Padmé Amidala."

Padmé did not waste time. "Less than an hour ago, an assassination attempt was made against my life. One of my bodyguards and six others were ruthlessly and senselessly murdered. I was the target, but more importantly, I believe this security measure before you was the true target." Cassandra kept her stance relaxed but ready. If there was another attempt on Padmé’s life, it would be here—before the entire Senate, where chaos could be easily manufactured. Her hand lingered near the folds of her robe, where a hidden blade was strapped, and she subtly reached out with the Force, searching for any ripple of hostility among the crowd. "I have led the opposition to this army, and there is someone in this very body who will stop at nothing to ensure its passage," Padmé declared. A wave of outcries followed, many booing and shouting against her accusations. Others remained silent, considering her words carefully. Padmé pressed on. "I warn you, if you vote to create this army, war will follow. I have experienced the misery of war firsthand. I do not wish to experience it again, and I do not wish it upon any of you!"

More murmurs, some in agreement, some in resistance. "Wake up, Senators. You must wake up!" Her voice grew more urgent. "If you offer the separatists violence, they will only return it in kind! Many will lose their lives. All will lose their freedom. This decision could destroy the very foundation of our Republic!"

Cassandra caught a slight movement in one of the upper pods. A senator—one she didn’t recognize—had stiffened. His aide, standing beside him, had subtly touched his ear, as if receiving a message. Thalia tensed, resisting the urge to reach out through the Force. She could feel it—shifting intentions, a ripple of something.

Then, movement from Orn Free Taa’s pod. He maneuvered closer to Padmé’s, his tone matter-of-fact. "My motion to defer the vote must be dealt with first. That is the rule of law." Padmé clenched her jaw, frustration flashing across her face, but she knew there was no arguing against procedure.

Palpatine leaned forward, his expression the picture of sympathy. "Due to the lateness of the hour and the seriousness of this motion, we will take up these matters tomorrow." His gaze flickered briefly to Padmé before he declared, "Until then, the Senate stands adjourned."

As the session ended, Padmé exhaled slowly, her heart still pounding. She had made her case, now all she could do was hope.

Cassandra leaned in just slightly, speaking under her breath. "I think we caught someone’s attention."

Padmé didn't react immediately, but she saw the slight shift of her gaze—the understanding. The senator nodded, voice low. "Then I suppose we should be very careful tonight."

Cassandra’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Agreed." As they departed, her senses remained sharp, tracking every senator, every aide, every movement they encountered on their way out.