The Galactic Senate chamber was a monument to democracy—two thousand floating platforms arranged in concentric rings around a central podium where Chancellor Palpatine presided. Today, as with most days since the war began, the chamber was chaos.
"This is not a philosophical debate!" Senator Halle Burtoni of Kamino's voice echoed across the chamber. Her platform had risen to speaking position, putting her pale features in the spotlight. "This is about survival. We need more troops to fight both the Separatists and this new threat—Ultron. The Republic cannot afford another failure like Jabiim."
Scattered applause and shouts of agreement erupted from various platforms.
Bail Organa's platform rose next. The Alderaanian senator's voice was calm but firm. "Our military commanders report that the clone troopers perform admirably. Their courage is beyond question. What we cannot afford is fiscal irresponsibility. The war has already pushed the Republic to the brink of bankruptcy."
A wave of murmurs—some agreeing, some objecting.
Lott Dod of the Trade Federation spoke next, his Neimoidian features arranged in what might have been a smile. "Bankruptcy is not inevitable, Senator Organa. If we pass the enhanced military funding bill and open new credit lines with the Banking Clan, we'll have the resources to continue our defense."
Mon Mothma's platform floated forward. "Deregulate the banks? Senator Dod, forgive me for being skeptical of any proposal that benefits the financial institutions you represent."
"We were attacked!" Another senator—a male Ishi Tib—rose to speaking position. "Ultron struck Coruscant itself. Our capital. Then Jabiim fell despite our best efforts. We need more soldiers. More ships. More—"
"More war?" Padmé Amidala's platform shot into the center of the chamber. Her voice cut through the cacophony like a blade. "More money, more clones, more death? We're discussing financial policy, but what about our moral responsibility? How many more systems must burn? How many more soldiers must die? Haven't we had enough?"
"Senator Amidala," the Ishi Tib senator said with barely concealed contempt, "are you suggesting we surrender to the Separatists?"
"I'm suggesting we try negotiation before we bankrupt the Republic to build more soldiers."
"Negotiate with terrorists?" someone shouted.
"We need to vote now!" another voice called. "Authorize the funding!"
"The enemy isn't just one force anymore," Burtoni said. "The Separatists and Ultron both threaten us. We need—"
"We need peace with at least one of them," Padmé interrupted. "Fighting on two fronts is already destroying us. We must find diplomatic solutions before we have nothing left to defend."
The chamber erupted into competing shouts and arguments.
At the public entrance to the Senate chamber, three observers watched the chaos unfold.
Peter Parker hung upside-down from an architectural support, his mask pushed up to expose his face. Beside him—or rather, below him from his perspective—Ahsoka Tano stood with her arms crossed. Anakin Skywalker leaned against the wall, his eyes fixed on Padmé's platform.
"A lot of these guys are either too scared or too stubborn to see sense," Peter commented.
Ahsoka glanced up at him. "Doesn't all the blood rush to your head when you do that?"
"Spider powers." Peter tapped his temple. "Perks of the job."
Anakin barely seemed to hear them. His gaze remained locked on Padmé as she gestured emphatically, making her case to a chamber that didn't want to hear it.
"She's right, you know," Anakin said quietly. "About Ultron. The Separatists are one thing—at least they're predictable. But Ultron? He strikes anywhere, anytime. Jabiim proved he's the bigger threat."
"Senator Mothma agrees with you," Ahsoka said, pointing to the Chandrilan platform where Mon Mothma was speaking.
"Ultron's attack on Coruscant showed us all how vulnerable we are," Mothma said. "His victory on Jabiim demonstrated his tactical superiority. We cannot simply throw more soldiers at this problem and hope it resolves itself."
"Which is exactly why we need more clones!" the Ishi Tib senator shot back. "Who's to say Ultron won't attack again right now while we debate?"
"Creating more clones could help," Burtoni added, her tone suggesting this was the only reasonable conclusion.
Peter made a disgusted sound. "This is like watching the British Parliament, except less polite."
Anakin smiled despite himself. "You've watched British Parliament?"
"YouTube videos. They yell at each other a lot. It's weirdly entertaining."
A new platform rose—blue skin, head-tails marking him as Twi'lek. Cham Syndulla of Ryloth.
"But what if we don't have enough clones?" Cham's voice carried across the chamber. "We all saw what happened when Ultron attacked. Systems across the galaxy suffered while our forces were spread thin. What happens when the clones can't be everywhere at once? Our citizens need to know how to defend themselves. How to fight for the Republic when the army can't reach them in time."
Burtoni's response was immediate and sharp. "Are you suggesting our clones are ineffective, Senator?"
"Don't put words in my mouth." Cham's voice took on an edge. "I know the clone troopers' courage better than most. I've fought beside the 71st Legion. Bled with them. Watched my friend, Jedi Master Ima-Gun Di, die defending my homeworld alongside those brave men." His voice softened with genuine emotion. "I would be the first to champion their cause and their achievements. They are the finest fighting force the Republic has ever fielded."
Several clone shock troopers standing guard in the chamber stood a little straighter at those words.
"But I refuse," Cham continued, his voice hardening again, "to let them shoulder this burden alone."
Palpatine leaned forward in his podium. "Senator Syndulla, please clarify your meaning."
"What I mean, Chancellor, is that we cannot ask the clones to defend the Republic by themselves. We cannot place the entire weight of this war on their shoulders and the shoulders of the Jedi who lead them."
Padmé's platform shot forward. "Cham, what are you saying?"
Syndulla turned to her, his expression apologetic but resolved. "I'm saying there are millions throughout the Republic eager to fight for their homes. Willing to risk their lives for this cause. I have warriors on Ryloth who would stand beside these honored clones in a heartbeat."
"You're talking about expanding the military," Bail Organa said slowly. "Creating a conventional volunteer force to supplement the clone army."
"Exactly." Cham gestured to the assembled senators. "Why should only Kamino's children fight our wars? The Naboo fought when the Trade Federation invaded. The Gungans stood with them. Why don't we ask the same of the entire Republic?"
The chamber erupted. Platforms rose and fell as senators shouted to be heard. Some supported Syndulla's proposal. Others condemned it. The noise was deafening.
"ORDER!" Palpatine's voice boomed through amplification. The chamber quieted. "Senator Organa, you had a motion?"
Bail's platform rose. "I move that we table the banking deregulation bill until a full fiscal impact study can be completed. I further move that Senator Syndulla's proposal for a supplemental volunteer force be referred to the Military Oversight Committee for review."
"Seconded," Mon Mothma called out.
"All in favor?" Palpatine asked, his tone suggesting he already knew the outcome.
The vote passed narrowly. The session adjourned.
Padmé walked toward the chamber exit, exhaustion written in every line of her body. Anakin, Ahsoka, and Peter met her at the entrance.
"Are you okay?" Ahsoka asked immediately.
Padmé looked at the two Jedi—her husband and his Padawan—and felt the weight of everything Natasha had told her pressing down like a physical force. Order 66. Inhibitor chips. The clone army programmed to kill every Jedi it served.
She wanted to scream it. Wanted to grab Anakin and Ahsoka and run somewhere safe and never let them near another clone trooper again.
But that wasn't the plan. That would get them all killed.
"I'm fine," Padmé lied. "Just tired. It's been a long day."
"Maybe some tea?" Peter suggested. "My Aunt May always says tea and cookies fix everything. Well, not everything, but you know. Most things."
Despite everything, Padmé smiled. "Maybe, Peter. That might help."
"You should rest," Anakin said, concern evident in his voice. "You've been pushing yourself too hard."
If only it were that simple, Padmé thought. She nodded, let Anakin take her hand, and tried not to think about the army that surrounded them. The army with kill orders in their brains.