The knock on the door made everyone look up.
"Were we expecting someone else?" Rhodey asked.
Six heads shook. One—Natasha's—didn't. She was already standing, moving toward the door with the unhurried confidence of someone who'd planned for this moment.
The door slid open. Padmé Amidala stepped through, her senatorial robes immaculate despite Coruscant's evening humidity. She smiled at Natasha, then looked past her to the assembled Avengers.
"Padmé?" Hope stood, surprise evident. "What are you doing here?"
"Natasha invited me." Padmé moved into the room, embraced Hope warmly. "She said there was something I needed to see."
"There is," Natasha said. She gestured toward the holographic displays still floating above the table. "We found something at Kamino. Something you and your Senate allies need to know about."
Padmé's eyes went to the data files—the schematics, the command protocols, the inhibitor chip diagrams. Her expression shifted from curiosity to alarm in the space of a heartbeat.
"You... you got into Kamino's systems?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "The classified files?"
"With help from your contacts," Natasha confirmed. "And what we found..." She pulled up two holographic displays, positioned them in front of Padmé. "You should see for yourself."
The first display showed a numbered list—150 entries, each one a command protocol. The second highlighted specific orders, magnified for easy reading.
Padmé scanned the first few entries. Her face went pale.
"What is this?"
"Contingency orders," Sam said. "Hardwired into every clone's brain via inhibitor chips. Commands they'll execute without question or hesitation once activated."
"In theory," Natasha added, "these were supposed to prevent abuse of the clone army. Emergency protocols to ensure no single person could use millions of soldiers for personal gain."
"But they're more than that," T'Challa said quietly.
Padmé looked up from the display, fear written clearly on her face. "How much more?"
"Some of the orders make sense," Rhodey said. He'd been through military protocol training—recognized the logic behind certain contingencies. "Order 4, for instance. If the Chancellor is incapacitated, command transfers to the Vice Chair until a replacement is elected. Order 5 is similar, but puts the Chief of the Defense Staff in charge with a strategic committee for oversight."
"Order 65," Matt added, "authorizes the clones to remove a Chancellor deemed unfit to lead. The Senate Security Committee would designate a replacement."
"Those sound reasonable," Padmé said slowly. "Emergency measures for crisis situations."
"Yeah," Sam said. "Those are the ones that sound reasonable."
Padmé's eyes narrowed. "And the others?"
Sam pulled up Order 37. "Mass arrest and execution of civilian populations harboring wanted fugitives. Communications blackout of the entire system for a month to cover it up."
Padmé's hand went to her mouth.
"Order 13," Hope said, "authorizes planetary annihilation if a Republic world defects to the Separatists. Complete destruction of infrastructure and resources to deny them to the enemy."
"But—" Padmé struggled to find words. "We've never heard of Republic worlds being destroyed. Not on that scale."
"Because it hasn't happened," Sam said. "Yet. The orders exist. They just haven't been activated."
"At least not the extreme ones," Scott added. "Some of the more 'normal' protocols might've been used during the war. We have no way to know."
Padmé was shaking her head, slowly, like she could deny the reality in front of her. "This is monstrous. These men—these clones—they're people. Sentient beings with thoughts and feelings. And you're telling me they have these... these murder protocols built into their minds?"
"That's exactly what we're telling you," Natasha said.
Padmé looked down at the list again. Her eyes found one entry, highlighted in red. "Order 66," she read aloud. Her voice was steady, but her hands trembled. "What does that one do?"
The room went silent.
"Senator," Matt said carefully, "maybe you should sit down first."
"Tell me." Padmé's voice carried the authority of someone who'd been queen before she was old enough to vote. "What is Order 66?"
Sam answered. "In the event of Jedi officers acting against the interests of the Republic, the Supreme Chancellor may authorize lethal removal of said officers. All Jedi serving with the Grand Army are to be executed and declared traitors to the Republic."
The color drained from Padmé's face. She swayed, caught herself on the table. "No."
"Yes," Natasha said quietly.
"No, that can't—" Padmé's breathing quickened. "Anakin. Obi-Wan. Ahsoka. Every Jedi serving with the army. They'd all—" She looked at the Avengers with wide, terrified eyes. "We have to tell them. We have to warn them right now—"
"We can't." Natasha's voice was gentle but firm.
Padmé spun to face her. "What?" The word came out sharp, almost a shout. "What do you mean we can't? Natasha, my husband is a Jedi! He's in danger every second these chips exist!"
"We all understand that," Hope said, moving to Padmé's side. "We're worried too. But—"
"But nothing!" Padmé's composure cracked. "How long have you known? How long have you been sitting on this while Anakin and the others walk around with armies that could turn on them at any moment?"
"Since Kamino," T'Challa said. "Three days."
"Three days," Padmé repeated. "Three days you've known the Jedi could be slaughtered by their own soldiers, and you haven't told them?"
"We're going to tell them," Sam said. "But we need a plan first. A strategy."
"A strategy?" Padmé's voice rose. "The strategy should be 'tell the Jedi immediately so they don't get murdered by mind-controlled clone troopers!' How is this complicated?"
"Because the moment we reveal what we know," Matt said, "whoever put these chips in place will know we're onto them. And they might activate Order 66 immediately rather than risk exposure."
That stopped Padmé cold. "They could... they could trigger it now? Just like that?"
"With the right authorization code," Natasha confirmed. "Which means we need to be very careful about how we handle this. Who we tell. When we tell them. And in what order."
Rhodey leaned forward. "We also need to start removing the chips. Surgically. From as many clones as possible. Every clone we free is one less weapon pointed at the Jedi."
"But that will take time," Scott said. "Months. Maybe years to reach all of them. And we can't do it secretly—the Kaminoans will notice."
"So we need political cover," T'Challa said, looking at Padmé. "Authorization from the Senate. Medical necessity. Some legitimate reason to perform brain surgery on millions of soldiers without raising suspicion."
"And we need to identify who's behind this," Sam added. "Someone put these chips in place. Someone has the authority to activate them. We find that person, we remove the threat at its source."
Padmé sank into a chair, her face in her hands. When she looked up, her eyes were red but dry. "You're asking me to keep this secret. To let Anakin walk around with an army that could kill him at any moment. While we play politics and investigate conspiracies."
"We're asking you to trust us," Natasha said. "And to help us. We need your connections in the Senate. Your allies. People who can help us push through legislation for 'medical evaluations' of clone troopers. Who can help us slow down clone production. Who can start asking questions about where this army actually came from."
"Meanwhile," Rhodey said, "we start removing chips. Quietly. One squad at a time. Starting with the clones who trust us—Rex, Cody, the others we've fought beside."
"We prove the procedure is safe," Hope added. "Document everything. Build a case. And when we're ready—when we have enough clones freed and enough evidence gathered—we blow this whole thing open."
Padmé looked around the table at the seven Avengers. "You're certain this is the right approach? That keeping this secret, even for a little while, is the best way to protect the Jedi?"
"No," Sam admitted. "We're not certain. But it's the approach that gives us the best chance of success without triggering a massacre."
T'Challa added quietly, "Sometimes the hardest thing to do is nothing. To wait. To plan. When every instinct screams at you to act immediately." His eyes were sympathetic. "But acting without thinking gets people killed. We've all learned that lesson."
Padmé closed her eyes, breathed deeply. When she opened them again, her expression was resolved. "What do you need from me?"
"Start with your closest allies," Natasha said. "Senators you trust absolutely. Bail Organa, Mon Mothma, anyone in your circle who won't panic or leak information. Have quiet conversations about clone rights. Medical evaluations. Oversight of Kaminoan production facilities."
"Slow things down," Sam said. "Make it harder to produce new clones with chips. Every delay gives us more time to work."
"And watch the Chancellor," Matt added. "Palpatine has accumulated significant emergency powers during the war. If anyone has the authority to activate these contingency orders, it's him."
"You think Palpatine is behind this?" Padmé asked.
"We think someone is," T'Challa said. "And the Chancellor is the most obvious candidate. But we can't prove it yet. So we watch. We investigate. And we don't tip our hand until we're ready."
Padmé stood, straightened her robes. "I'll do what I can. But please—" Her voice broke slightly. "Please get those chips out as fast as you can. I know you're right about being careful. But every day we wait is another day Anakin could..." She couldn't finish the sentence.
Hope squeezed her hand. "We'll keep him safe, Padmé. All of them. I promise."
Natasha walked Padmé to the door. "You have a Senate session in an hour. You should prepare."
Padmé nodded. "Keep me informed. Any developments, any progress—I want to know immediately."
"You will," Natasha promised.