Star Wars: From the Clone Wars to Starfaring Heroes

Chapters 113 and 114 - The Republic Parliament (Combined)

Korusa Sector.

The Coruscant Galaxy.

At times, MP Padme Amidala falls into a deep state of doubt.

Were the mountains of reports, data, and bills she saw the same as what the thousands of other members of the Galactic Council under the dome saw?
War is like a tireless meat grinder, devouring lives and resources day after day.

Each time Padmé stepped into that deafeningly noisy council hall to attend a new round of meetings, he felt that the entire galaxy was slowly and irreversibly sliding into an abyss of madness.

Or is it just parliament itself that's going crazy?
Or perhaps... the one who's really going crazy is actually herself?
As her colleagues waved their arms around her, shouting and arguing about issues that seemed increasingly absurd to her, a cold and dizzying sense of clarity suddenly washed over her.

The familiar figure on the speaker's platform now seemed to be shrouded in an unfathomable shadow in her eyes.

Yes, she must be crazy.

That's for sure.

This must be the only reasonable explanation.

Otherwise, how should we understand all of this?
A bitter and absurd laugh almost burst from Padmé's throat.

She pressed her lips tightly together, barely managing to suppress it.

Only when she occasionally exchanged glances with Bel Organa, the representative of Odran, who was sitting not far away, or Mon Mosma, the representative of Chandela, who was a few rows away.

They discovered the same confusion, anxiety, and a tacit sense of powerlessness.

Only then could Padmé briefly escape this suffocating sense of isolation and regain a sliver of reason.

If a mad fate is unavoidable, then at least she is not the only one to fall into it.

This thought became her only solace at that moment.

The strange smile that Padmé tried so hard to suppress but still managed to reveal did not escape the eyes of those around her.

Tekra.

Her former maid, now her most trusted parliamentary assistant, looked over with concern, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the data panel.

Padmé shook her head at her, indicating that she was alright, and forced herself to refocus her attention on the urgent report from the Republic's Supreme Command on the floating screen in front of her.

She needed to confirm that what she was seeing was not a hallucination, and that the sense of absurdity did not stem from her own mental derangement.

Beside the podium, the messenger who brought the report was still standing stiffly on the anti-gravity suspension chair.

He looked more than just uneasy; it was a deep-seated shame and fear.

He clasped his hands tightly behind his back, as if trying to hide something, his head bowed low, his gaze fixed on the tips of his gleaming but slightly trembling military boots.

He stood there like a statue awaiting final judgment, radiating an aura of despair.

Padmé looked at him, feeling not anger at the bad news, but deep sympathy for this unfortunate little man who had been pushed out to bear the silent wrath of the entire parliament.

What is this so-called "a glimmer of hope"?
That's nothing but a fleeting illusion, because such a thing simply doesn't exist in the cruel reality!
Ten million lives were lost!

Those were living, breathing lives, fighting for the Republic!
At this very moment, these self-proclaimed "public servants" are sitting deep within Coruscant, a steel behemoth isolated from the flames of war, shouting themselves hoarse.

What they demanded was endless war!
Is this deliberate cold-heartedness, or have they already completely severed ties with the real world?
Have they become so engrossed in this vast, cold, power-playing "cradle of steel" that they have completely forgotten the all-consuming war that is raging outside?

They enjoy the endless privileges that come with their positions, but have they ever thought about the sacrifices on the front lines?

"There's no need for debate!" Senator Raab from Tarn waved his arms, his sharp voice piercing through the noise. "The bill must pass immediately! We need the funds to build more warships! Now!"

"Who will build it?!" the Rendelli senator roared back defiantly, his voice full of sarcasm. "Look at Quarter Dynamics Shipyard! The only thing they can reliably 'deliver' right now is a series of failure reports!"

While Representative Rendelli's accusations deviated somewhat from the core issue of the current funding and seemed almost absurd, this sharp criticism hit the nail on the head.

At the Quarter Power Dockyard, several representatives, their faces ashen, could only suppress their humiliation and remain silent.

Their prized "Victory-class" star cruisers have long been thoroughly criticized by several renowned admirals.

Even more devastatingly, their newest and most expensive flagship, that massive dreadnought, was also completely destroyed in the recent battle.

Of course, Quarter's representatives repeatedly defended themselves in private.

These losses were caused by operational errors by frontline commanders and Jedi generals, and had nothing to do with the quality of the shipyard products; the responsibility ultimately lies with the military.

But in this powder keg-like parliamentary hall, they wisely chose to cower in the shadows of their seats, avoiding all eyes, and praying that the storm wouldn't hit them directly.

“We cannot be so irresponsible!” Congressman Bell Organa’s voice rose with difficulty amidst the clamor, tinged with obvious worry. “The Republic’s finances are already on the verge of collapse to support this war! And now we have to raise funds to make up for such enormous losses? This will completely crush us! It will bankrupt us completely!”

“We might not go bankrupt!” Representative Saam slid his hoverchair forward, trying to get everyone’s attention. “Fellow members of parliament! Please take a close look at the emergency funding bill drafted by my caucus! It clearly outlines feasible solutions for raising the necessary funds!”

Padmé's fingers slid rapidly across the control panel of the hover chair, bringing up the bill.

After only a few glances, a chilling sense of disappointment gripped her, adding to her disillusionment with the organization she worked for.

This plan is nothing short of blatant opportunism and utterly shameless.

"—The core of this bill is to relax regulations on interstellar banks!" Representative Fal of Rodia was furious, his voice trembling with agitation. "This is absolutely unacceptable! This is like drinking poison to quench thirst!"

"This price is insignificant in order to make up for our losses!" Senator Bertoni of Camino immediately retorted, his tone firm. "Are you suggesting that we just stand by and watch the separatists rout us in the Peremian sector and do nothing?"

These words were like a fuse that ignited an uproar in the Senate.

"no way!"

"Those traitors must be stopped!"

"Allocate funds for the war! Crack down hard on the separatists!"

"Then who will take responsibility for this crushing defeat?!" Senator Orn Fri Taa of Reilos's voice, filled with grief and indignation, pierced through the clamor of the crowd. "How can the Supreme Command of the Republic take responsibility?! They promised us victory, and what did they do? They brought back the most devastating loss in the Republic's history! Now they come back like beggars, reaching out to us for more money to fill this bottomless pit!"

“I solemnly assure you all,” the messenger, who had been cowering beside the podium, shouted in a trembling voice, “that the command headquarters is undergoing a complete and thorough reorganization! We guarantee that a disaster of this scale will never happen again!”

"Reorganization? 'Ensure'? What the hell does that mean?!" A furious roar exploded from a corner.

The messenger trembled with fear, his head drooped even lower, and his body seemed to shrink even smaller.

Padmé felt like a puppet whose soul had been emptied, slowly and heavily sitting back in the wide back of the suspension chair.

She dug her hands into her hair and hugged her head tightly.

Money, money, money!
My ears are filled with nothing but credit points!
But there wasn't a single person!

Not a single person mentioned those ten million vanished names!

No one is speaking up for them!
She peeked through her fingers at the Speaker's seat high above.

Speaker Palpatine sat upright, his face shrouded in an inscrutable expression, looking down at the chaotic farce with an almost dreamlike gaze.

Or rather, it wasn't a discussion at all, but just an ugly argument.

The scene vaguely transported her back to the era of Speaker Finnis Valoren, but this time, she couldn't tell whether the Speaker's calm expression stemmed from pain over the incompetence of the governing body or deep concern over the deteriorating war situation.

Clearly, it is impossible to expect the Speaker to quell the chaos and bring rationality.

She sighed deeply and wearily, as if that breath had drained all her strength.

Can't the Jedi Order send even a sliver of rational voice to the Senate?

However, the facts are clear: they, like the Supreme Command, bear undeniable responsibility for this disastrous defeat.

If the widespread media coverage is true, the Jedi Council dispatched their top Jedi general to command the operation, and now, that general has also fallen in battle.

But Padmé's anxieties went far beyond that. Anakin, where are you?

Before he left, he only hurriedly told her that he was going to the outer ring star system to carry out a mission.

The outer ring... Wasn't the Battle of Peremian held on the outer ring?
Was he also on that hellish battlefield?
Could he...? Her gaze involuntarily swept over the messenger who had brought the terrible news and looked as if he had lost his parents, and a cold fear instantly gripped her heart.

Could he be on that cold list of ten million casualties?

Padmé may have to wait weeks, or even months, for definitive news.

How could she possibly know this now?
She is a senator from the Naboo system, and he is a general from the Republic.

They each had their own duties, and each was deeply mired in their own war.

"How selfish I am, and how derelict all of us are at this moment!"

Padmé inwardly berated herself.

At this critical moment concerning the survival of the republic and the deaths of millions, she was instead indulging in personal worries.

Look at your colleagues around you. Although their actions may be completely wrong, at least they are still arguing and acting in the name of the Republic.

And what about herself?
What are you thinking about again?
Do something?
“Congressman Padmé, you must say something.” Tekra approached anxiously, his voice low, but his earnestness was like an invisible needle, precisely piercing Padmé’s sore spot.

“Among such a group of people?” Padmé gave a bitter smile, gesturing with his chin towards the chaotic, market-like meeting place. “Everyone knows I oppose war and insist on peaceful negotiations. They won’t let me speak, Tekra. Did you hear that? Nobody cares! Ten million people have died! And their ‘best solution’ is to sacrifice more lives to prolong this massacre, instead of trying everything possible to end it!”

Tekra was silent for a moment, then raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the arguing members of parliament, then over the more silent and observing faces, and finally back to Padmé's face.

“Madam, your reformist caucus members will listen, won’t they? And what about those representatives from the outer star systems… Perhaps most people in the chamber don’t care right now, but what about those outside? The ordinary citizens watching the live stream, those who have lost loved ones and are living in fear? When they realize that in this chaotic parliament, there is still a member who cares about them, who is calling out that life is more important than credits, they will care! Madam, why not speak directly to them?”

“The people…?” Padmé murmured, repeating the word.

"The Senate is ultimately accountable to the people." Tekrat's voice was unusually firm, and he gave Padmé a powerful look.

Padme didn't know how much truth remained in that statement given Palpatine's increasingly centralized power.

But deep down, she has never been someone who would back down in the face of challenges.

The former queen and current member of parliament from Naboo slowly and resolutely stood up.

Her gaze, sharp as a hawk's, swept across the magnificent and bustling Senate chamber.

A clear and bold plan quickly took shape in her mind.

She knew in her heart that most of the members of parliament were just watching and waiting to see how things would turn out.

In such a decisive moment, they only want to stand on the side that seems safer and more powerful.

But now, the argument has reached a stalemate, and the "safe" option has not yet appeared.

And what about the speaker?
What is his real agenda?
Since pushing through the Army Building Act, he has introduced and passed one controversial and almost overreaching bill after another, using every crisis to expand the military’s power to an unprecedented degree.

As a member of the Loyalists Council, Padmé has consistently set aside personal concerns and chosen to support these bills.

But now?
Faced with millions of lives lost, faced with such an ugly performance by Parliament?
Padmé shifted his gaze from the trembling messenger to the numerous holographic camera robots hovering and moving in the hall.

These cold machines, like vultures that have smelled blood, circled above the legislators, their cameras constantly capturing every expression of excitement, anger, or panic, turning this national disaster into a holographic live-action drama for the entire galaxy to watch.

The media pursues ratings, and ratings require dramatic conflict.

What could be more dramatic than lawmakers arguing hysterically?

Nevertheless, there are always one or two camera robots that remain vigilant, their lenses scanning the surroundings, ready to pounce on the next member of parliament who might speak.

Padmé gently moistened her lips, which were dry from nervousness, cleared her throat, and straightened her back.

She even subconsciously straightened the wrinkles in the exquisite robe she was wearing, which symbolized her status as a member of Parliament Naboo.

As expected, her movements immediately attracted the attention of a holographic camera robot hovering above and to the side.

It deftly adjusted its direction, smoothly traversed the central airspace of the hall, and hovered directly in front of her hover chair, its cold lens pointed at her.

She had to create a huge shockwave, she had to say something that would drown out all the noise and instantly grab the attention of all the camera robots.

This is her only chance to bypass the clamor of parliament and speak directly to the "people".

Previous military defeats were either covered up or downplayed, but the loss of ten million people?

This news is like a galactic explosion; billions, even trillions of people are undoubtedly holding their breath, watching this through holographic networks, eager to know how the Republic's highest authority will respond to this earth-shattering disaster.

Padmé calmly pressed the speak request button on the control panel of the hover chair.

Senate President Mas Ameda glanced down at the console to confirm her identity, then looked up, his gaze piercing through the chaotic crowd to her, and gave a brief nod: "The President now grants Naboo representative, Senator Padme Amidala, permission to speak!"

Her hover chair's drive mechanism emitted a slight hum, carrying her smoothly forward.

The holographic camera robot followed closely behind.

Padmé took a deep breath, as if inhaling all the foul air of the entire parliament, and then, with all his might, unleashed his long-suppressed anger and grief into a roar that resounded through the heavens—

"Are you all crazy?!"

Her voice, clear, sharp, and filled with unbelievable anger, exploded like thunder in the magnificent Senate chamber!

The energy that erupted in that instant miraculously overwhelmed all the arguments.

The entire venue, from the front row to the top, seemed to have been muted, falling into a deathly silence, with only the echo of her voice buzzing in the vast space.

Padmé caught a glimpse of at least two or three more holographic camera robots flying rapidly toward her as if drawn by a magnet.

If even this can't get the entire galaxy to hear it, then there really is no other way.

Padme Amidala: For a long time, she has been the calm, rational, intelligent, and eloquent voice in the Senate of the Republic.

She carefully maintained her image as a calm and persuasive legislator.

But at that moment, that image shattered.

Instead, there was a party fighter who dared to charge into battle, the former Queen of Naboo who had personally witnessed her homeland being ravaged by war and the displacement of her people.

A person who has tasted the bitter fruits of war and can no longer endure it.

"Now that I've finally gained your attention, my esteemed colleagues!" Her voice, still booming, was scorching with anger, no longer an elegant debate, but an almost roaring accusation. "Then, allow me to ask this: why do I only hear credit points! Credit points! Funds! Fiscal bills!? While you all argue heatedly about the financial costs of this war, should I remind this solemn institution—that this war also costs lives!? Should I remind everyone here that ten million people have already paid the price with their lives!?"

'Ani, you're fighting your own battle.'

'Now, it's my turn to fight my battle!'

"They are clones, Congressman!" Congressman Edsel Bar Garne of the Luna system rebuked in a condescending tone, as if correcting an ignorant child. "That's the sole purpose for which they were created! What you're doing now is just humiliating yourself and wasting everyone's time..."

“And the way you are now, Congressman!” Padmé abruptly turned to the source of the voice, her roar instantly drowning out the other person's, her eyes sharp as knives, “precisely exposing the extent of your utter ignorance! Should I remind this 'solemn' institution,” she deliberately emphasized the word “solemn,” full of sarcasm, “that the entire galaxy only has two million clone soldiers!?”

Senator Edsel Bar Gañe was struck as if by an invisible punch; his face turned deathly pale, and his body involuntarily shrank back as if trying to hide in the hover chair.

Above Padmé's head, a fourth holographic camera robot was already hovering steadily, its lens locked on her.

She had no idea that billions, even trillions, of eyes were watching her every move through holographic projections.

She could feel the mixed look of surprise and support in the eyes of Bell Organa and Congressman Farr.

The entire Senate chamber fell into an unprecedented, suffocating silence, as everyone's attention was firmly fixed on her earth-shattering question.

(End of this chapter)