C232 Meeting the Senate

C232 Meeting the Senate

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The Senate Building loomed ahead, a massive spire of gleaming durasteel and glass that seemed to pierce the endless Coruscant sky. Its sheer size and grandeur spoke volumes about the power it represented—a power that, to Peter, felt as fragile as the threads holding it together.

The shuttle settled onto the designated landing platform with a soft hiss of hydraulics. Republic guards stood at attention, their polished armor glinting in the sunlight. The air was charged with tension, as if the entire planet held its breath.

The ramp lowered, and Peter was the first to step out, his crimson coat catching the breeze as he descended with unshakable confidence. His mask concealed his face, the faint red glow of its lenses adding to the air of mystery surrounding him.

Behind him, Padmé followed, her movements poised and deliberate, her formal dress flowing like water as she descended the ramp.

Anakin trailed close behind, wide-eyed and clutching at his small pack, while Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Jar Jar brought up the rear.

Peter took a slow look around, taking in the towering spires, the meticulously arranged security details, and the glistening Senate insignias embossed everywhere. “Huh,” he said, his voice amplified slightly by the modulator in his mask. “Overpriced space decor. Looks like the galaxy’s biggest wedding cake.”

Padmé shot him a sharp look, her tone low and pointed. “Peter, please. This is serious.”

Peter tilted his head slightly, the gesture casual. “Oh, I’m serious. I seriously hope they didn’t blow their entire budget on the foyer.”

Anakin stifled a laugh, though his eyes darted nervously to Padmé. She didn’t respond, instead shaking her head in exasperation and stepping forward to address the waiting guards.

One of the officers stepped forward, his posture stiff as he bowed to Padmé. “Your Majesty, welcome to Coruscant. The Senate awaits your arrival. Please follow us.”

Padmé inclined her head graciously, her voice calm. “Thank you. Lead the way.”

The group moved forward, the guards flanking them in a tight formation as they entered the grand halls of the Senate building. Anakin’s gaze darted everywhere, his wonder written plainly on his face. He tugged at Peter’s sleeve, whispering eagerly, “Is the whole planet like this? Buildings and ships everywhere?”

Peter leaned down slightly, his tone conspiratorial. “Pretty much. No grass, though. Makes you wonder where they bury the bodies.”

Anakin blinked, his face scrunching in confusion. “What bodies?”

“Don’t worry about it, kid.” Peter straightened up, smirking faintly beneath his mask.

Padmé glanced back at them, her regal demeanor unshaken, though there was a faint furrow in her brow. “Anakin, try to focus.”

“Y-Yes, Your Majesty,” Anakin said quickly, though his eyes remained glued to the towering structures around him.

As they passed through the massive doors leading to the Senate chamber’s inner halls, the atmosphere grew heavier. The grandeur of the Senate was oppressive, its marble floors and golden accents exuding a calculated authority. The chatter of distant conversations echoed faintly through the corridors.

Peter let out a low whistle, his voice echoing softly. “Gotta admit, they know how to intimidate people.”

Padmé didn’t look back, her tone sharp but quiet. “Peter, if you say one more thing—”

“Relax, Queenie,” Peter replied lightly. “I’ll play nice.”

Her steps faltered for a fraction of a second at the nickname, but she didn’t respond, keeping her focus ahead. Still, Peter caught the faintest flicker of something in her posture—a hesitation, perhaps, or an unspoken thought.

“Here’s the thing, Count,” Peter continued, his tone casual but sharp. “I didn’t come here to take orders or make promises. I came here because the Republic failed Naboo. If I hadn’t stepped in, the Trade Federation would still be there, illegally occupying a sovereign planet.”

Dooku’s eyes narrowed, his voice cool. “And what of your intentions, Star-Lord? You wield a power that is both unprecedented and unaccounted for. The Senate has every right to question whether you are a threat or not.”

Peter shrugged, his tone unbothered. “Call me whatever you want. I don’t need your approval.”

The tension in the chamber was palpable, senators glancing between Peter and Dooku as the exchange grew increasingly heated. Bail Organa, his pod hovering nearby, raised his hand for attention.

“Enough,” Bail said firmly, his voice carrying a note of authority. “This is not the time for accusations or hostility. Star-Lord’s actions, whether questioned or not, saved Naboo. We should focus on addressing the Trade Federations crimes and the failures that allowed this invasion to occur in the first place.”

A wave of agreement rippled through parts of the chamber, though Dooku’s expression remained unreadable. The Supreme Chancellor cleared his throat, his voice rising over the renewed murmurs.

“The Senate will take all perspectives into account,” Valorum announced. “To that end, a committee will be formed to investigate Star-Lord’s actions and assess any potential threat he may pose to the Republic.”

Peter’s mask tilted slightly, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips beneath it. “Sounds fair,” he said lightly, though his tone carried an unmistakable edge. “Just make sure this committee isn’t corrupt and actually does its job, unlike some of you here.”

Gasps rippled through the chamber, but Peter turned on his heel, walking back toward Padmé without waiting for a response. She glanced at him, her expression a mix of exasperation and grudging admiration, before returning her attention to the Senate.

“Thank you for your time, Chancellor,” Padmé said, bowing slightly. “Naboo will cooperate fully with this investigation.”

The Chancellor nodded. “This session is adjourned. The committee will convene tomorrow.”

As the group exited the chamber, the senators began to talk amongst themselves in hushed tones, the room buzzing with speculation and uncertainty.

In the shadows of his pod, Count Dooku watched them leave, a faint, calculating smile tugging at his lips. “Interesting,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the din. “Very interesting indeed.”

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The Senate chamber’s grand doors hissed closed behind them, muffling the buzz of heated debates and murmurs from the senators still inside. Peter strode ahead of the group, his hands tucked casually into his coat pockets, while Padmé, Anakin, and the rest trailed behind. The heavy tension from the hearing lingered like an unseen cloud.

As they moved down the long, polished corridor toward the transport bay, Peter felt it—a faint yet unmistakable presence in the Force, watching him, waiting. He slowed his pace, letting the others drift ahead until he came to a stop near an ornate side door leading to a quiet, secluded garden.

“You go on ahead,” Peter said casually, glancing over his shoulder. His mask hid his expression, but his tone carried enough weight to prompt Padmé to stop.

She turned to him, frowning. “What do you mean, ‘go on ahead’? We’re supposed to—”

“I’ll catch up,” Peter interrupted lightly, though there was a subtle firmness in his voice. “Just... gotta take care of something first.”

Padmé hesitated, her brow furrowing. Anakin looked between them, confused, while Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchanged a knowing glance.

Finally, Padmé sighed, clearly not thrilled but unwilling to argue in front of everyone. “Fine. Don’t take too long.”

With that, she and the others continued down the corridor, leaving Peter alone.

The moment they were out of sight, the soft, measured sound of a cane tapping against the polished floor broke the silence. Peter turned his head slightly, watching as Yoda emerged from the shadows of the garden entrance. The diminutive Jedi Grandmaster moved slowly but deliberately, his sharp green eyes fixed on Peter.

“Follow, I thought you might,” Peter said, his voice carrying a faint edge of humor as he turned fully to face Yoda. “What can I do for you, Master Yoda?”

A/N: 1974 words :)????????