Star Wars: From the Clone Wars to Starfaring Heroes

Chapter 287-289 - The Stars Take Their Place (Part 3)

Where exactly is the Speaker of the Supreme Council?

As MP Mon Mosma took her seat in the main conference hall, this question lingered in her mind.

This Galactic Council meeting is extraordinary.

This marks the official end of Speaker Palpatine's third consecutive term, while the Republic's constitution clearly stipulates that this position can only be held for a maximum of two consecutive terms.

In fact, according to the original founding documents of the Republic, his term should have ended four years ago.

However, when the separatist crisis broke out, Parliament passed the Emergency Powers Act by a majority vote, extending his powers indefinitely.

However, as the fighting over Sereno gradually subsided, more and more voices in the parliament began to question the situation.

How long will this so-called "state of emergency" last?
The answer, of course, lies hidden in the details of the amendments that grant the Speaker these broad powers.

The state of emergency can only be terminated by the Speaker of Parliament himself, and this decree will effectively strip him of all the special powers he has accumulated.

However, in the past four years, Parliament has passed four constitutional amendments, each granting him more power under the pretext of wartime needs, and finally passed the Reflection Amendment at the most critical moment of the core world crisis.

This amendment was excessively restrictive, at a time when the Separatist fleet's attacks had already spread to Coruscant and the agricultural loop.

At this point, it is no longer realistic to expect him to politely relinquish his emergency powers.

For four years, their repeated votes and declarations have only added fuel to the fire. Now, hoping that the flames will extinguish themselves is wishful thinking.

They must extinguish this ever-growing flame of greed through a vote.

Mon Mosma piloted the anti-gravity pod deep into the center of the conference hall, using all his strength to avoid showing the slightest sign of retreat under the gaze of two thousand councilors, tens of thousands of delegates, and trillions of citizens across the galaxy.

She scanned the entire conference hall, her gaze sweeping over the layers of anti-gravity seating pods, which extended outward and upward like concentric rings of saw teeth.

In theory, each parliamentary module represents the voice of a corner of the galaxy.

Then she saw the empty council chambers, including Naboo's seat.

Some members of parliament were ousted or died in various “accidents,” while others completely lost faith in the institution they had once been proud of.

Because the Galactic Council is now more and more like a rubber stamp institution that endorses every whim of the Speaker.

She couldn't help but think: This parliament is like a huge whirlpool, and the members of parliament are sitting in their seats like unfortunate drowning people clinging to the edge. Everyone is trying to avoid being swallowed up by the central power core, but they are unknowingly giving it more and more power.

At this moment, the figure in the gorgeous velvet robe was not on the central stage. Instead, there stood the blue-skinned Chaglia man, Mas Ameda, the deputy speaker and parliamentary spokesperson of the republic, standing there majestically.

"Dear colleagues!" Mon Mosma announced with all his might, "I believe you all understand the reason for gathering this solemn institution today!"

She paused deliberately for a moment, her sharp gaze sweeping across the room, as if challenging any possible dissident to stand up.

But no one spoke up.

The very fact that this hearing was even held proves that Mon Mothma's camp has secured enough votes to put the meeting on the increasingly empty schedule of the Galactic Council.

However, regarding the countless floating cameras scattered throughout the rotunda, she officially revealed the reason: "For those who think this is insignificant,"

Mon Mosma continued, his voice firm and strong, "What we are going to discuss today is the re-election of Supreme Council Speaker Palpatine, and the Emergency Powers Act that enabled him to be re-elected!"

Her words echoed in the hall, amplified by the complex acoustic structure.

She was greeted not with thunderous applause or fierce protests, but with suppressed, uneasy whispers and the rustling of robes.

The tense atmosphere naturally spread as the councilor Chandler gripped the edge of the podium tightly, his gaze sweeping over the faces... some indifferent, some visibly uneasy, and others with unwavering determination.

The hovering cameras buzzed around her, their lenses precisely aimed at her, transmitting her image and sound to trillions of people across the galaxy.

She understood the significance of this moment and knew she had to seize the opportunity. Palpatine's position was in its most precarious period in years, as the crisis at the heart of the world had shaken public trust in him.

They cannot wait until the war is completely over, otherwise Palpatine may use this opportunity to consolidate his cronies and regain popular support.

“However, our current situation is,” her tone hardened, “that the brave warriors on the front lines have driven the Separatists back to Sereno! The Speaker’s third term has ended, the Separatist Alliance is doomed, yet he still clings to power. This solemn institution has become a mere ceremonial venue, and our Galactic Republic’s constitution… the cornerstone of our civilization… is constantly being trampled upon by executive decrees and emergency amendments! Can we tolerate this continuing?!”

The tense atmosphere in the hall was palpable.

The lawmakers shifted nervously in their seats, some nodding in agreement, others deliberately avoiding eye contact.

On the central platform, Mas Ameda's blue eyes gleamed, his expression unreadable.

He remained motionless, his braid hanging down over his shoulders, like a monarch's robe.

But his grip on the scepter tightened noticeably, and although he maintained a calm demeanor, the slight trembling of his braid betrayed his unease.

He did not interrupt her.

Everyone in the hall knew what made him so uneasy, or rather, what was the reason for that person's absence.

Mont Mosma's gaze swept across the room with laser-like sharpness. She didn't know the specific reason for his absence, but it would be foolish not to seize this opportunity.

“But,” she raised her voice, drawing the attention of the entire galaxy, “where is the Supreme Chancellor?”

This statement exploded like a shock bomb in Parliament.

Whispers spread like ripples, and the councilors looked at each other, some confused, others feigning ignorance.

Even the suspended camera seemed to pause in mid-air for a moment, recording every subtle movement and whisper.

“On such an important occasion,” Mon Mothma continued, his tone deliberately questioning, “people might expect the Republic’s leader to be present, to respond to the institution’s inquiries, and to assure the galaxy that the trust placed in him is being used responsibly, not out of personal ambition. However… he is not here.”

The deputy speaker gripped the ceremonial scepter even tighter, his knuckles turning white against the dark wood.

Despite his cautious and neutral expression, the slight swaying of his braid betrayed his inner unease.

"His absence," Mon Mosma pressed, his tone laced with doubt, "does it reflect his respect for Parliament, for the Constitution, for the entire Republic?"

A murmur of unease rose in the hall.

Even staunch supporters of the Speaker found it difficult to justify his obvious absence at this moment.

The live broadcast focused on Senator Chandella, whose resolute expression contrasted sharply with the increasingly uneasy members of parliament around her.

"—So! Do you have an answer, Vice Speaker!?" She suddenly turned to the podium, forcefully pushing the anti-gravity council chamber forward, her body swaying slightly from the inertia. "Where is the Supreme Speaker?"

……

The commando team stormed into the building through a large window that had been blown open on the upper floor. The gunboat hovered outside the window, and the team members jumped over the dangerous drop to enter the tower.

Adi Gallia instinctively activated his lightsaber, the sapphire blade emitting a steady hum that dispelled the writhing, hissing energy of the dark side.

Iscart followed closely behind into the building, with the rest of the ARC soldiers behind him.

The gunboat then sailed away to make way for the next LAAT low-altitude assault transport aircraft to unload the troops.

Once all the squads of "Orek's Squad" were lined up, they immediately began their operation, with the Jedi Knight leading the commandos, special forces, and intelligence personnel.

The team members raised their guns to their chests, used glow sticks to light their way forward, spread out in formation under crossfire cover, and went deep into the building, clearing rooms and hidden corners one by one. Only after confirming that it was safe did they declare that the floor was no longer a threat.

The burning lightsaber cast green, blue, and other colored shadows on the dusty gray wall.

"Floor cleared!" Commander Thorne reported via communicator.

“We have shut down all the turbine elevators,” Master Shakti added. “Nobody can use them now.”

“Roger that,” Commander Valiant replied. “My squad has secured all exits. Once ready, we will begin our advance downhill.”

“Roger,” Thorne said. “Aurek team on the north flank, Bakta team on the south flank. Begin operations.”

They cautiously descended the stairs, the team moving like shadows through the abandoned building, the silence amplifying all sounds.

The faint hum of lightsabers, the scraping sound of plastic alloy boots on cracked concrete, the occasional clicks of communicators, and static noise.

The Orek team's glow sticks pierced through the dim fog, their beams reflecting off the scattered wreckage and broken transparent steel.

The air was thick with the mixed smells of worn-out circuitry and years of dust, which were stirred up by the passing of soldiers and Jedi.

Every creak of the building structure seemed deliberately made, as if the entire building was watching their every move.

“Bakta team,” Master Gallia said through the communicator, “report the situation.”

“The north corridor is secure, no contact targets detected,” Thorne replied, his voice slightly tinged with communication noise. “Entering the east wing, which appears to be the administration floor.”

On the other side of the building, Commander Thorne's squad advanced steadily along the south side.

His commando team moved with textbook precision, leaping between cover points, scanning every room with blaster carbines, while controlling all exits and advancing toward the center.

They plan to meet up with the Orek team at the center and trap the players inside between the two teams.

However, after turning every corner and breaking through every door, there was only emptiness.

Nothing at all.

Safe! Nobody's here.

Safe! Nobody's here.

Safe! Nobody's here.

(End of this chapter)